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huggybearsunshine · 1 year

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The Things We Left Behind Part 24

[Part 24] Takes place during the first half of 8x22 Clip Show.

Cas watched the needle weave in and out of his skin with a stoic expression that would have fascinated Dean if he weren’t trying so hard not to look him in the eye.

“You stopped me apologizing earlier, but… your energy still feels…” Cas trailed off, touching Dean’s hand when he didn’t look up.

The hunter sighed harshly, cutting the string and setting the pliers down on the counter of the sink.

“Cas, I don’t have it in me to do this tonight,” his voice sounded worn so thin it was barely there, “My best friend is off god knows where, I had to revive my little brother today with an ice bath just to keep him going, and I’m covered in the blood of the man I love, who is supposed to be immortal by the way-”

“I am, I’m just… Crowley used an Angel blade-“

Dean’s hand rose to stop him and it worked as Cas went still, breath hanging between them when their eyes met.

“I’m so tired, and right now, I just want to take you to bed,” the hunter furthered.

Cas looked as if he wanted to question him, but instead, he simply nodded agreeably, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Dean looked like at least a bit of the weight was lifted as he leaned, hands on Cas’ thighs and forehead pressing into his chest.

Cas went to rub his back but the other man darted up at the touch.

“Come on,” Dean helped him to his feet, and the pair walked toward the war room where the others waited.

“You’re looking better,” Benny’s smooth voice called out as the two entered.

“Benny,” Dean moved forward once he was sure the Angel’s balance would hold in his absence, “To the rescue as usual.”

“Well, when an Angel commands it,” he laughed back, shaking the hand he had been extended before turning to the celestial in question, “How ya doin’, Cas?”

“Better now,” he remarked on a sigh, “Sam, are you-?”

“I’m okay,” the other hunter joined them and clapped the Angel’s shoulder, though the action was much weaker than usual.

Cas wasn’t sure if that was more for Sam’s benefit or his own, but he chose not to comment.

“We’re going to bed,” Dean spoke up before anyone else could, “Sam, you sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” he reiterated with only a slight irritation to his tone.

“Okay,” the older of the brothers continued, “Benny, you need a room?”

“Nah, I’m good, brother,” he shook his head and Dean nodded absentmindedly.

He had put on the mask well enough, but it was noticeably slipping as the minutes dragged on.

“Okay, thanks again,” he was still nodding as he said it, eyes not really meeting anyone’s.

“Hey Tex,” Benny caught his attention, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you know me,” he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Just beat.”

He slapped the vampire on the shoulder with a quick tap.

“Thanks again,” Dean offered, “Gonna have to start a tab on all the favors I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’,” Benny waved him off but his eyes told Castiel that his worries hadn’t been alleviated.

“Cas,” his stare was acknowledged with a curt nod and a raised brow.

“Benjamin,” Cas answered in turn, and the vampire was gone.

“Come on,” he heard next to him quietly but when he turned, Dean was already on his way to the room.

With a sympathetic smile from Sam, Cas was off as well, aware of every bit of the tension between himself and the man ahead of him. But Dean needed sleep, and that was something Cas could give him for tonight.

The rest could wait.

But when Dean awoke that morning, he swung his legs over the side, pulled his jeans on, and left the room without so much as a glance toward Cas.

He sat up, himself, as the door clicked shut and stared for an inordinate amount of time, feeling a sudden cold, emptiness in the hunter’s wake.

He sat there amongst the hunter’s things, for how long, he wasn’t really certain, but he couldn’t make himself leave the comfort of the room. Possibly due to worry of not being allowed to return.

He wondered what particular decision had been his undoing.

But he also had to wonder if Dean would be feeling this bad, were the roles reversed.

When he finally stood, he winced at the pain in his abdomen. Not because it was so intense but because it was unusual for him to feel at all.

Cas moved awkwardly as he shuffled down the hallway and rounded into the library, favoring one side of his body more than the other.

“Cas,” Sam started to stand but swayed back into the chair again, uneasy on his own feet, as the Angel gave him a knowing look.

“Sam, have you seen Dean?” he asked, already looking like he knew the answer.

“Think I heard him leave about an hour ago, why?” Sam’s brows stitched in confusion, “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, I think he’s upset with me,” Cas looked away.

“You did say you guys would stop getting yourselves hurt being reckless over each other,” Sam offered a sympathetic look his way as he said it, “And to stop lying…”

“Yes, we did,” he acknowledged honestly.

“He probably just needs some time,” the hunter added sagely.

“Of course,” Cas nodded before grunting and leaning against the table for support.

“You okay?” Sam’s brow arched in concern.

“My wound isn’t healing as quickly as I’d hoped, but your brother insisted on stitching me up in the meantime,” he sunk into the nearest chair, “And I am getting better… slowly…” his eyes pulled upward and a crease formed between his brow, “You, on the other hand, are getting worse…”

“Well, two trials down, one to go,” Sam was now the one avoiding eye contact.

“And the final test, do you know what it is?” Cas held his stare regardless.

“I have to cure a demon,” Sam’s attention returned, wanting to see the reaction on Cas’ face.

“Of what?” the seraph just looked confused.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he sighed, “Ever heard of anything like that?”

“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ve come to understand recently that my memories can’t be trusted…” Cas’ shoulders fell.

Sam’s hand reached out to touch his shoulder, surprising him out of his thoughts, “Wanna talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say…” he responded, voice rasping a bit as he spoke, and Sam just nodded in understanding.

“Hey, I’m here if you do, and as far as Dean is concerned, he’s gonna get over it, just…” the hunter hardened a bit, “Be patient… You always have been with him and it’s gotten you this far.”

Cas nodded uncertainly so he continued.

“You’ve always been good at knowing what Dean needs,” he further assured the Angel, “Trust your instincts…”

This seemed to spark an idea in Cas as his eyes lit up.

“Just don’t go running off again, okay?” Sam added though, by the looks of it, he now had only a part of the celestial’s attention, if that, “It really affects him…”

“Of course,” Cas nodded slowly before disappearing in a gust of wind.

“Like that,” Sam laughed and threw his hands up in defeat.

He reappeared next to a convenient store and rounded in through the door as the bell above announced his presence.

Wandering around the store and grabbing anything he thought Dean would like, Cas noticed the boy who worked there growing more annoyed with him by the second.

“I do have money,” he offered as a way of assuaging his ire, but as he approached him, Cas’ own seemed to spike, “Where is the pie?”

“Think we’re out,” the attendant shrugged.

“You don’t understand,” Cas pulled him in by the collar, “I need pie.”

“Put the virgin down, Castiel,” the familiar voice called from over his shoulder.

“Metatron,” Cas lowered the boy before turning to him.

“Let’s talk,” the scribe nodded toward the door.

“You can come out now,” Sam called out with a roll of his eyes and Dean slowly stepped into view.

“You, uh, knew I was here, huh?” he shuffled self-consciously.

“Yeah, I knew you were there,” Sam replied with a smirk, “Why are you hiding from Cas?”

“I’m not hiding from Cas,” he looked away, “I just… I don’t know, I just need a minute to think without him doing his sad puppy-dog eyes…”

Sam laughed, but it turned into a cough which had Dean rushing to his side.

“You okay?” his big brother instincts kicked in, but Sam nodded reassuringly.

“Maybe you should take a break?” Dean offered, “‘Least ‘til you feel better…”

“This is what’s going to make me feel better,” he motioned toward the papers around him, “By the way, do we have a room 7b?”

“What do you want, Metatron?” Cas asked as they walked the sidewalk.

“It’s Marv in public,” he amended before answering the other Angel’s question, “And you intrigue me, Castiel.”

“How so?” his brows furrowed.

“You’re the spanner in the works!” the scribe announced excitedly, “The break in the great machine!”

“I wasn’t the first…” he replied with a thoughtful look.

“Another story I’d like to hear,” he acknowledged.

“It has an unfortunate ending,” the seraph’s eyes fell.

“Most do,” Metatron nodded, given him a pensive moment before asking what he really wanted to know, “But you full-on rebelled right? No contact with upstairs at all…”

“Not consensual contact, no,” Cas grumbled, then upon seeing the scribe’s surprised expression, explained, “Naomi…”

“Ah, say no more…” Metatron grimaced, “I’m familiar with Naomi’s tactics.”

“Really, you?” Cas looked up and Metatron raised his hand to dissuade him.

“No, she didn’t dare mess with my memory- scribe and all,” he mended as Cas nodded in understanding, “Listen, I’ve had no one, and I mean no one, I could talk to about heaven or any of the rest of this stuff with in millennia… I thought we could- I don’t know- be… friends.”

“Friends,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yeah, you know, grab a bite, shoot the shit, talk about enemies or… relationship problems?”

“Dean and I have no problems-“

“I knew it,” Metatron interrupted as they came to a stop at a bench and he motioned to take a seat, “You don’t just love the hunter, you’re… in love… romantically…”

Cas sat with an exasperated sigh, “Dean and I share a profound bond…”

“How did this happen?” Metatron pressed again, determined to get Cas to open up and tell the full story.

The brothers entered the room, clearing cobwebs away as they did.

“What happened?” Sam asked while they each explored separate sides of the room, “You and Cas were great and now…”

“I’m tired of him lying- or withholding, whatever you want to call it- I’m just tired of it,” Dean wouldn’t look at him, busying himself with some of the room’s artifacts, “And the disappearing every time there’s a problem…”

“Hey, I understand why you’re mad, but… go easy on Cas, will ya?”

“If anyone else- I mean, anyone…”

“But he’s not just anyone,” Sam cut him off with a knowing look, “He’s Cas…”

“That’s the point… He’s supposed to be the one who doesn’t do this shit to me, and yet here we are again and again!” he blew up, knocking some book from a shelf.

A click froze him though, and he looked the shelf up and down.

Slowly, he reached out and found the book which seemed to be attached to the shelf itself. With a tilt, it moved and the entire structure swung open like a door.

“No way…” a boyish excitement escaped him.

“Is that a… dungeon?” Sam peaked around him.

“It’s a dungeon!” Dean exclaimed.

“I rescued him from hell,” Cas finally sat down.

“He’s the Michael sword?” Metatron’s jaw dropped.

“No,” Cas’s eyes cut to him, “He’s Dean Winchester. He was never Michael’s to claim.”

“But he’s yours to?” the scribe posed.

Cas’ face hardened, “We claimed each other.”

“Wow, you really are in love, aren’t you?” Metatron delighted, “And with the Michael Sword, himself,” he tisked with an impressed look to his eyes, “I gotta say, that’s bold even for me…” he thought on this for a moment before his questioning continued, much to Cas’ chagrin, “So, you were sent to retrieve him and- what? Couldn’t let go?”

“Why do you care?” Cas tried to shut him down, but Metatron was persistent.

“That’s the exact question that I want to know!” he answered excitedly, “Why do you care?”

“How am I supposed to answer that?” Cas’ brows knit defensively, “I love him because I have never seen any other choice but to!”

That answer seemed to only spur the scribe on even more.

“I thought as much,” he smirked, “You are far more interesting than I gave you credit for, Castiel.”

“So, it’s the lying… the evasiveness that’s getting to you,” Sam persisted, and Dean dropped something back into the box he was looking through on the table with exaggerated frustration.

“Yes, Sam,” he bristled, “Wouldn’t it get to you?”

But after a moment and a steadying breath, his voice calmed.

“He keeps doing this… finding out he was working with Crowley behind our backs and lying to my face,” he stressed the last three words, “That was bad enough… but thinking this could be a pattern with him… Just lying to me or keeping things from me when I don’t agree, it’s… not what I signed up for.”

“And the disappearing…” Sam added gently.

“He does it every time…” he rubbed his face, “I can’t agree with him on everything, I’m never going to be that guy, but… I just wish he would stay and face it when things get bad.”

“Yeah…” Sam didn’t know what to say to him other than, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“How?” Dean laughed bitterly, “He’s not here…”

He looked away, unable to meet his brother’s gaze, when he noticed something in the corner, “Well, that could be interesting…”

“I still don’t understand why any of this is of interest to you,” Cas rolled his eyes to heaven, though he knew he would find no help there.

“Do you know how few firsts there are for someone who’s been on Earth as long as I have? I’m not Naomi, Castiel… You can trust me,” he folded his hands in front of him and a pleased smile spread across his face, “Plus I need someone to talk to about what’s been going on back home!”

“By ‘home’ you mean… heaven?” Cas’ eyes narrowed on the other man.

“I’m trying to play catch-up… digging around, crawling through a few divine nooks and crannies and from what I can see,” he shifted in his seat, “Without the archangels, it’s a mess up there. Open warfare.”

“Sounds like you know more than I do.. I thought Naomi was running things now,” Cas looked off to the side, her name still triggering memories of torture and manipulation.

“Is that what she told you?” Metatron raised a questioning brow to him, “Naomi’s just one of many factions at play right now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It’s all broken.”

“And I’m the one who broke it,” Cas looked away again but this time in shame, “There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken… I spilt so much blood,” his voice hardened in self-hatred, “I tried to atone for my sins, do penance, and I let down the people who care about me to protect our secrets… I’ve just done nothing but fail.”

“Look, I know… but now the angels,” he quieted his voice, “Heaven, needs someone to come to the rescue. They need us, Castiel.”

“Us?” Cas’ stoicism slipped for a moment.

“Just picture it,” Metatron’s voice grew in excitement, “We ride to the rescue and save the day! It’d make a great story…” he took a beat, “Would make Dean proud.”

Cas looked skeptical, so he continued a little more frustratedly.

“We need to lock down heaven- all the factions, you, me- and work this stuff out,” the scribe concluded.

“Like a family meeting?” Cas asked, still just as unconvinced.

“I’m going to let you think on it, but I know I can convince you I’m right,” he winked before vanishing without further explanation.

“Wait, Metatro- Marv!” Cas looked up and then away in frustration.

No wonder Dean found it so frustrating when Cas would disappear in much the same way.

In a blink, Cas found himself outside of the bunker, walking in on a film playing through a projector in the library and stopping with a tilted expression to take in what he was seeing.

“Well, that was weird,” Dean’s voice drew his attention as it always did, and he moved further into the room, “With three exclamation marks.”

“What is this?” Cas now joined them fully in the room, distractedly placing the grocery bag on the table.

“Oh, there he is,” Dean’s face fell instantly and his posture tightened.

“Film we found in this hidden room,” Sam replied off-handed my, eyes still fixated on the screen, “That wasn’t a normal exorcism. They changed the words.”

“I believe ‘lustra’ is Latin for wash, or cleanse…” Cas offered, brows knit closely in thought.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that was the most freaky part, the vocabulary,” Dean shot back, “What about the bloody high five or-or the chest burster?”

He stood, suddenly needing to be at the same eye level as the Angel across from him.

“Anything else on the film, like director’s commentary? Sequal maybe?” he added, Cas’ presence bringing his anger back to the surface.

“Yeah, listen to this,” Sam took over, lifting his laptop as he brought it nearer to Dean, “The older priest, Max Thompson, bit the dust in ‘58, but the younger one is still alive and in St. Louis.”

“Think this kind of weird is worth the drive?” Dean looked from him to the screen and back.

“Yeah, I think it’s worth the drive,” Sam replied incredulously.

“Alright, let’s roll,” they all began toward the entranceway, but a pointed finger rounded on Cas, “Not you.”

“Sam is more damaged than I am,” it was almost pleading as it fell from the Angel’s mouth.

“Yeah, well, even banged up, Sammy comes through,” Dean’s anger wavered minutely but returned as he took a deep breath.

“Dean, I just want to help,” Cas’ own flared in response.

“We don’t need your help,” he looked sorry as soon as he said it, but doubled down anyway, “Just stay here, and… get better. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Dean,” Cas stalked over, shoving him into the wall.

He kissed him as if he meant for it to hurt, harsh and bruising, before pulling back with his eyes locked dangerously onto the hunter’s own.

“I love you, and I apologize for getting ambushed by Crowley and Naomi but I think I have suffered quite well enough for that mistake already,” as if to further his point, a spot of blood began to pool on his shirt where his stitches were pulled loose in the sudden movement, “But Dean, when you do get back- safely and in one piece,” he stressed that last part, “We are going to talk about it and fix it.”

He pressed in, both dangerous and alluring.

“I will not be spoken to in that way, do you understand?” he practically growled and Dean felt his knees weaken beneath him in response.

“Yeah,” he managed to force a breathy answer out, and Cas’ hand loosened its hold on his collar to cup his cheek instead.

“Please pray to me if you need me,” the Angel’s voice softened.

“Okay,” Dean nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Cas let his eyes linger a moment before pulling away and nodding to a gaping Sam before he walked off down the hallway.

“You okay?” a grin crawled up Sam’s cheek when his eyes met with Dean’s.

“No… shut up…” Dean shrugged his jacket back into place, “Let’s go.”

———————

@destiel-wings @destieliscanon5nov @destieldisaster, your comments made my day!

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huggybearsunshine · 1 year

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Fewer Things Part 3

[Part 3] The gang summon the empty.

“If things go wrong, just… get them out of here.”

It was Dean’s only concern after ‘get Cas out,’ but everything had to be perfect. It had to work, because he owed Cas that much at least. He was all focus, all soldier, and it did not go unnoticed.

“Always so determined when it comes to getting that broken Angel back,” Chuck’s eyes narrowed in on the elder Winchester as his head lifted from where it went slack, “It was always ‘We’ve lost everything, we lost Cas! Bring him back!’”

“Stop,” Sam tried, but Dean held a hand up.

“No,“ he shook his head, “Ignore him. We have too much riding on this.”

“It’s always too much when it’s him, isn’t it, Dean?” Chuck continued.

“Come on,” he looked to Rowena, “Help me with this…”

But she didn’t move.

“Go on, Rowena,” Chuck had her frozen in place, “You gotta help him get his Angel.”

“Rowena,” Dean spoke more harshly, and something seemed to snap in her.

“That’s our Angel, you sniveling runt,” she hissed before joining Dean at his side, “What can I do?”

“That’s my question,” he finished rubbing his face, “What do you got in case this thing goes for anyone else?”

“Hi Sam,” the younger Winchester looked over to find himself now the sole object of Chuck’s attention, “How’s the shoulder been?”

“Sam,” Dean grabbed his arm, having approached unnoticed, “Wanna help Rowena?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, glancing toward the old god before moving to cross the room.

“Do you do anything but run your mouth?” the elder brother turned to Chuck before his avoidance got the best of him.

“I’m getting somewhere though, aren’t I?” the bound man grinned maliciously, “‘Cause you can barely seem to look at me.”

“I’ve just got more important things to worry about than you,” Dean brushed him off, knowing full well that he was right.

“Oh that you do,” he smirked back.

“Dean?” a delicate hand gripped his forearm and he turned to see Eileen’s eyes softening as they met with his, “We’re ready.”

He turned to find the other two eyes on him as well.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally nodded and crossed to them, “Let’s do this.”

He grabbed a knife and a familiar green jacket off of a table behind them, handling it like it were precious before scraping a few flakes from the handprint on its sleeve into the bowl.

Then he heard it before he saw it, that awful wet squelching noise.

He was instantly back to that day, watching it swallow him. Watching him disappear.

But what he didn’t expect was for Cas to be the one walking out of the goo.

“Hello, Dean,” but it wasn’t him.

It instantly felt so wrong it made the hunter’s skin crawl.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he recoiled back.

“I thought this would be a welcome visage,” it grinned, “My true form has a tendency to melt people’s minds.”

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Sam’s hand gripped him.

“Why am I here?” the shadow wearing Cas’ face asked, quickly growing impatient.

“I’ve got a deal for you, since you seem to like those so much,” Dean ground out through his teeth, “You give Cas back-“

“Not happening hunter, I’m having way too much fun with that one,” it practically laughed in glee.

“And we give you him,” Dean insisted on finishing.

The shadow’s eyes were on the bound man instantly and predatorily, “Oh, yes… I would like to have him.”

But before another word could be spoken, black tendrils shot out and claimed the old God much the same way it had claimed Cas.

“Wait,” Dean realized too late that he was retreating, “Hey, wait!”

He dove forward, but it was no use. The entity was gone. Chuck was gone. And Cas was nowhere to be seen.

“Cas!” his voice screamed, “Castiel!”

Then it was silent. A hollow sort of silence because it didn’t work.

He sank into himself and into his grief, this time fully lost of hope.

His hands reached up to cover his face and the sound that came out was more animal than man.

It didn’t work.

“Dean?” Sam stepped toward him, but Rowena’s hand caught his arm.

She shook her head, and he would almost swear he saw a mist to her eye.

She tugged and he let her walk him out of the room. Eileen got the message and also left to let Dean mourn without having to feel exposed.

But he was exposed nonetheless.

There were thoughts he couldn’t explain to himself, or maybe he could, but what did it matter anymore. Cas was really gone.

Cas was really dead.

Cas was… dead, leaving behind nothing but the voice in Dean’s head.

“Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being.”

“Garth,” Sam answered his persistently ringing phone as he was herded into the kitchen by the others, “Garth, I really can’t talk right now…”

“Sam, it’s important…” the other voice shook as much as his.

Eileen snatched the phone from his hand and hit the FaceTime button, waiting for the image to appear on screen, “Talk to me.”

But Sam couldn’t focus on any of it. Dean was going to be worse than ever after all of this. He was going to go even further over the edge than he was and Sam didn’t know what that would look like. He didn’t know if Dean would make it through this time, and that thought had his mind reeling.

“Sam,” Eileen’s voice pulled him back, but the eyes that met hers were desperate and lost.

“Garth,” he seemed to have to remind himself.

“He needs help,” she nodded, signing the words as she said them, “Dean needs you here. So, I’m taking care of this.”

Sam couldn’t even formulate a response but the look on his face must’ve given away his concern because Rowena stepped forward with a knowing look.

“I’ll help,” she offered and Sam’s eyes turned toward her gratefully.

Eileen simply shrugged with the hint of a smirk threatening her lip.

“It’ll be like a girl’s trip,” she looked between them, then a dip took her brow, “I’ve never had one of those.”

Dean pulled himself up to his feet as the walls closed in around him. But it wasn’t the walls. It was as if his own skin was too tight. His bones too big. His breath too heavy.

He looked around for any kind of relief, but found none.

But his feet carried him away, needing distance.

Needing to board that room up and never look at it again, but he didn’t have the strength. All he wanted in that moment was to fall to the ground.

Instead, he found himself in his room, jacket held tight in his hand.

He sat on his bed without looking where he was going, just looking at it.

The handprint. The only piece of him he had left.

He had to go.

But as he neared the garage he could hear the others’ voices and chickened out, choosing instead to duck into Cas’ room and sit in the rubble he created.

He’d been there for a while, long enough for his eyes to sting from crying, when he saw something beneath the bed.

The corner of a box, exposed in the destruction of the room.

He reached for it and tugged it toward him, flicking the lid off and looking at it like it might explode.

But there was no bomb inside, no literal bomb at least, however, the contents hit Dean like one nonetheless.

Inside was a scattering of things the two men had shared throughout the years.

A photo of Dean in his cowboy hat, the mixed tape, the FBI badge he’d made for Cas, and to his surprise, the amulet- or Samulet as that one girl who wrote the musical about their lives had called it. A few things from Claire and Jack were also among the items, but the most of it was him. He had kept these in a seemingly special place.

He did make himself at home, but he felt he had to hide it, and Dean wasn’t sure which was worse.

————————

@spuffy-destiel @destieliscanon5nov

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