Chapter Text
Dean is not very good at being on his own.
He’ll never admit it, obviously. It’s a part of him he hates; how much he needs people. It’s a weakness he hasn’t found a way to cover up, though he’s tried. Without someone else to focus on, the only place to go is inside his head, and it’s not a great place to be, especially not now that Sam’s gone; has been gone for months now.
He’d tried, of course. A string of one night stands, flirting with anything that moved. And it worked, for a while. And then it didn’t. And Dean lost interest anyway, listening to the voices in his head mock him for it, like they do with everything these days.
So he turned to the bottle, his old standby when he needed to not think, but being alone in a crowded bar made him anxious, so he started staying in. The alcohol helped, in a way. It dulled the pain, at least, and sometimes allowed him to sleep a few hours before he woke up screaming. It dulled everything else too, everything besides the voices.
You always knew you’d end up here, they tell him. Why would anyone stay with you?
Weak.
Worthless.
That’s why no one wants you. You deserve this.
Every sensation, every emotion slowly faded, until one day he’d realized that he had trouble remembering the last time he really felt something, and he knew that should scare him, but it didn’t anymore. He’d stopped taking cases, and started spending his days locked in motel rooms, losing time while he listens to his list of failures on repeat in his head. In the beginning, he’d cringed at the words; screamed, trying to cover them up. Now he just listens.
And that’s how he ended up here, lying in bed beside a nearly empty bottle, idly twirling a blade between his fingers.
Do it.
The voice is so soft that it takes a minute before he notices, gentle in the way it curls down his spine, which makes a sick, distant sort of longing kick up under his ribs. “Can’t,” he slurs to the room. “Promised Sammy…”
What does that matter now? It asks him. He’s never coming back. Sammy hates you.
That one still hurts a little, but he’s used to the pain now. Sometimes he enjoys it. “I’ll go to hell,” he mumbles.
Exactly, it replies smoothly. We both know that’s what you want. It’s what you deserve. You need to be punished for your failures.
Dean nods absently, resting the point of the blade against his chest. It would be easy, really. So easy he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done it earlier. And sure, there were faster ways to die, but slow and painful sounds more like what he should get, after what he’d done, didn’t it? He’d bleed out before anyone came looking for him There was no one to stop him anymore. And even if there was, why would they?
The tip digs into his skin a little, and he hisses, pain sharp and bright through the darkness. And it’s so sweet that he digs it in further, just to feel.
He hears the flutter, a distant memory, and isn’t surprised to find the angel standing beside the bed, though his concern seems strange. After all, he is just a memory. “That’s nice,” he murmurs to the room. “I figured I’d crack eventually. At least it’s a nice hallucination.”
The angel’s frown only deepens, and he glances down to the knife, alarmed. Well, as alarmed as he ever got, which, if Dean’s memory serves, isn’t very. “Dean, what are you talking about? I must insist you put the knife down.” Dean only blinks up at him, the same soft, dazed smile on his face, and finally Cas reaches out to pull the knife from his grip, a move that Dean doesn’t fight, but which does make him frown.
“I thought all you people in there were in agreement. You’re just here to give me something nice look at while I go.”
“I’m not in your head,” the angel insists. “I assure you, I’m very much real.”
Dean blinks at him for another moment, his breaths starting to pick up. “You can’t be,” he says finally.
Cas tilts his head slightly, and Dean nearly smiles at the movement. “Why not?”
He sputters a little at that, annoyed. They’ve been over this before. “Because Cas – the real Cas – he…he hates me. Because of what I did. The same as Sammy. I failed them both. That’s why he never came back,” he explains. “No one comes back.”
Something strange happens in the angel’s expression, and he looks almost pained, though Dean doesn’t remember him ever wearing that particular face. “Dean,” he says slowly. “You’re not making any sense. It is me. And I would never hate you. Please listen to me.”
An uncomfortable feeling starts in the pit of Dean’s stomach, and he sits up too fast, the room spinning as he slumps forward. The angel grips his shoulder, and it’s like lightning, the shocks ripping through him as he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s too much; he hasn’t been touched in so long, and he thinks he might die if it continues, and also if it stops. Cas starts to lift his hand, worried that he’s hurting the man, but Dean grabs onto his wrist, keeping him in place, because even if it’s not real, he’s feeling it, and he hasn’t done that in a long time.
“Dean, talk to me. You look like you’re in pain. I don’t understand. Am I hurting you?” Dean doesn’t answer, but opens his eyes, and they’re full of so much more than they were a minute ago. Cautiously, Cas reaches out for Dean’s thoughts. He shouldn’t, he knows, and promised he wouldn’t, but something is wrong and he needs to know why. The force that pushes back at him nearly makes him cringe, and it takes him a minute to sort out; to see the sheer terror and desperation in him. He looks down to where Dean has a death grip on his arm, and finally it clicks into place. He takes in Dean’s expression for a moment, more open than he’s ever seen, and makes a decision, his tone softening with his expression. “It’s going to be alright now,” he says gently. “I’m here with you.” Very slowly, he reaches up with his free hand to grip Dean’s other shoulder. Dean flinches at the touch, but keeps his gaze locked on Cas. “Will you trust me, Dean?”
He waits patiently, watching the nervous bob of Dean’s throat while he pushes away the guilt. He’d always thought of Dean as his human. It was clear now that his beautiful, fragile little human had needed him, and he wasn’t there. But he would be now, if Dean would let him. “It’s okay,” he murmurs when Dean looks to him, unsure. “I can help. I can make it stop.”
Finally, Dean gives a tentative nod, and Cas smiles. “Thank you.” He blinks, and they’re in a different hotel room, a much nicer one that will make this easier. He gives Dean a few minutes to process the change, overwhelmed as he is. Dean’s dropped the hand holding onto him in his surprise, but Cas doesn’t release his arm. After a couple of minutes he looks up again, puzzled, and Cas doesn’t need to read his mind to understand the question. “We’re here to get you cleaned up, and fed, and rested,” he answers.
A shadow of doubt crosses his expression. “But you can’t…I don’t…I don’t deserve that. Why?”
Cas frowns slightly, considering his answer carefully to find one that Dean won’t outright reject. He knows that, in this state, arguing about Dean’s worth is pointless. “Because I would very much enjoy doing that, if you’ll allow me to,” he says finally.
Dean is tense while he considers this, his breathing tight and frightened. On one hand, there’s the voice. You don’t deserve those things, it reminds him. He’s going to leave you again.
But what he’s offering – the chance to stop thinking, if only for a few minutes, to give his responsibility to someone else – it’s too intoxicating, even though he knows it’s only going to make it hurt worse, another memory to torture himself with when he’s alone again. He finds himself nodding anyway. Cas smiles, and it hurts how much Dean would give to have him do it again.
“Thank you, Dean. Come with me.”
He walks slowly into the bathroom, and Dean can’t do anything but follow, watching as he shrugs off his coat and tie, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up to the elbows. Finally, he reaches for the hem of Dean’s shirt, pausing when the man tenses. “W-What are you…? You can’t…”
Cas smiles, shushing him gently. “It’s alright. I’m going to undress you so that we can give you a bath,” he explains calmly. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. All you have to do is relax and let me help.”
Dean hesitates, a part of him screaming that he shouldn’t be allowing this; shouldn’t accept this kindness that cuts into him more than the blade did. But there’s something in the way Cas says it, a quiet, calm confidence that makes him want to sink into it, to give up control and let this happen, and it’s that part of him that nods. “O-Okay…”
The angel nods, gently pulling Dean’s shirt free. His eyes fall to the mark left behind by the knife, and his grace itches to heal it, but he knows that Dean needs to be eased into this, and he’s not there yet. Instead, Cas murmurs softly while his fingers go to the waistband of his jeans, pleased when Dean’s wide, unsure eyes stay locked on him as he’s carefully stripped. “Good, Dean,” he praises softly, watching him blush. “Let’s get you in the water.”
The man looks over, surprised to see that the tub is already full, and slowly steps into the tub, a small noise escaping him at the warmth. There’s a sweet, soothing scent coming up from the water, and he can’t help but sink into it. “That’s better, isn’t it?” Cas says, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’ll have you clean in no time. You’re going to feel much better. Just relax for me.”
Dean doesn’t relax, of course, but Cas didn’t really expect him to, only speaking to let Dean absorb his tone, hoping the surety of it moves him closer to a place where he’ll allow himself to be cared for. As much as he wants to berate himself for allowing him to fall so far, he knows he needs to focus his energy on Dean right now if he has any hope of bringing him back after so long falling prey to his own self-destructive thoughts.
Dean watches him warily as he retrieves different items from the cabinets. He’s fighting the impulse to let go, Cas knows, still hearing the voice in his head that tells him to resist, but Cas also knows it’s a battle he’s going to lose. He can be patient until then. He very specifically doesn’t ask for permission, but he does move slowly as he soaps up a washcloth, touching it gently to Dean’s shoulder before starting to wash him. Dean flinches at each new touch, but doesn’t pull away or try to stop him, a huge improvement in itself, so Cas continues to speak calmly while he works, watching him carefully as he hesitantly starts to relax, soft, breathy sounds escaping him.
The more Cas touches him, the quieter the voice in Dean’s head gets; the only thing that convinces him there’s a chance he might not be hallucinating. It’s dangerous, he knows, because Cas left him before, like Sam, and he could very well do it again, and he might not survive it this time. He should fight this harder, and he has questions, but he’s so, so tired, and he doesn’t want to fight or think anymore. He’s not sure when his eyes closed, but he opens them again, looking up at Cas, who smiles warmly. “Feels good?” the angel asks.
He nods, suddenly aware that he’s been whimpering softly when Cas touches him. He should be embarrassed, but he just doesn’t have the energy for that, and Cas doesn’t seem upset with him.
“Good. I think you’re all clean. Let’s get you dried off.” Dean makes a sad noise, starting to look upset, and Cas shushes him softly. “It’s okay, I’m not leaving,” he murmurs, stroking a hand through his wet hair until he settles down. “I’m here. Just relax.”
He manages to get Dean up and wrapped in a towel, drying him gently and helping him into soft pajama pants. He’s already struggling to stay awake, and doesn’t argue when Cas carefully picks him up, leaning into his chest and wrapping his arms around Cas’ neck. He doesn’t let go when they reach the bed, and Cas smiles, sitting down and settling Dean in his lap, cradled against his chest. Dean looks up at him, surprised, but Cas just smooths his hair back. “I’m going to check your health,” he says, settling a warm hand against Dean’s bare chest. “It won’t hurt.” Dean nods, his eyes fluttering closed as he rests his head over Cas’ heart, feeling the steady beat beneath his cheek. He gasps softly when Cas starts, feeling his grace humming beneath his skin, spreading warmth through his body. He doesn’t have the strength to worry about what Cas will find, trusting that, whatever it is, Cas will take care of it.
Cas hears the tail end of that thought, and he smiles for a moment, then frowns at how much damage he finds. Dean is severely malnourished, but when he glances down he finds the man nearly asleep, and he knows he won’t last through a proper meal. He debates his options for a moment, then makes a decision. He knows Dean will fight it, but he hopes that he’s earned enough trust to do this.
“Dean?” he says softly, smiling when his eyes crack open. “I know you’re tired. I promise you can rest soon. I’m going to ask you to do something for me, and I know you’re not going to like it, but I need you to trust me.” He makes a curious sound, eyes widening when he sees the bottle in Cas’ free hand, immediately going tense. “Shh, I know, it’s okay,” Cas soothes. “Look at me for a moment.” Dean obeys, though he doesn’t relax. “Good. I know this is a lot to ask, but let me explain. We have to get some nutrients into you before your body starts to shut down. I’d like to heal you myself, but your system is still very sensitive right now, and I couldn’t heal you without causing you a great deal of pain, which would put too much stress on your body. I know you’re not a child. This is just a practicality to prevent you from choking if you fall asleep, and it’ll be easier for your body to absorb what you need in this form. It’s just for now. Once you’ve rested we can get you eating a proper meal and we never have to talk about it again if you don’t want to, I promise. Do you think you can give it a try for me?”
Dean eyes the bottle warily, considering it for a long moment, then gives a hesitant nod. “O-Okay…” he whispers, blushing lightly.
Cas smiles, hugging him tighter for a moment. “Thank you, Dean. I appreciate your trust very much.” He carefully rearranges the man to make it easier, letting the bottle hover a few centimeters away and waiting patiently for Dean to open up himself rather than feel like it’s being forced on him. He gives one tentative suck, then another, and, to Cas’ surprise, slowly starts to relax, his eyes closing again. Though he’d like to believe it’s at least partly because Dean enjoys being cared for, he knows it’s mostly due to the easing of his hunger pangs. Either way, after a few minutes he’s boneless and content in Cas’ arms, a much better result than the resigned acceptance the angel was hoping for.
“Very good, Dean,” he praises softly. “I’m proud of you.”
Dean is pleasantly surprised, both about the feeling that spreads through him at that sentence and about this experience in general. He’ll still probably be embarrassed about it later, but it’s really not so bad, and Cas doesn’t seem to understand how weird it is enough to judge him for it. Though he hates to admit it, it is oddly soothing, and like Cas said, it’s just a practicality, right? He can feel the voices trying to get through, to mock him for enjoying this, but all he can hear is Cas’ calm words, and everything is too fuzzy for him to worry about anything else. Besides, whatever is in the bottle tastes suspiciously like apple pie, and he wonders idly if Cas did that on purpose. They still have a lot to talk about, and Dean is still hurt and confused by his abandonment, but right now he feels better than he has in months, and he decides that conversation can wait if this feeling can continue a little bit longer.
An embarrassing little whine escapes him when Cas removes the bottle, and the angel smiles, rubbing soothing circles over his belly. “I know, but it’s been a long time since you’ve eaten much of anything. If we give you too much you could get sick. But after you rest, if you want it, you can have more.”
Dean nods in reluctant agreement, and then Cas is rearranging him again, having a far easier time moving him than he should until Dean is cradled against his chest again. Though he knows it’s childish, he doesn’t fight the movement, Cas’ warmth sinking into him and chasing out the chill that took up residence in his bones all those months ago. Cas begins rocking him gently, and he should be embarrassed, but he just can’t bring himself to care, because when’s the last time he was just held like this? Probably not since Mary, and it’s that thought that finally does it, the wall he’d put his emotions behind crumbling as they all rush back into him.
Cas’ hold on him tightens at the first sob, and soon he’s nearly hysterical, gripping Cas’ shirt in clenched fists while he sobs into the angel’s neck. “That’s it Dean, let it go,” he encourages gently, rubbing his back as he shudders. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay.” He can’t stop the flow of emotion once it’s started, and his feels it all; every feeling he’d suppressed sweeping through him, released in tears and pained howls. His despair over Sammy, the pain of Cas’ abandonment, all the shame and frustration he’d carried, and the uncertainty and fear that came with their earlier activities; it all rushes over him so fast he can’t breathe, and he holds onto Cas for dear life. The angel just holds him through it, encouraging his breaths when needed and offering comfort where he can, but mostly just giving him time to work through everything he’d held back.
When he starts to quiet, Cas starts up the rocking motion again, hoping it soothes Dean’s trembling a little. “I’m s-sorry, shit, I’m so sorry…” the man breathes, still unable to release his hold on Cas’ shirt.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Cas assure him, hugging him tighter. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to express your emotions.”
Dean shakes his head, sniffing. “I failed,” he insists. “You’re being nice to me but I don’t deserve this! I was supposed to keep him safe, that was my job, and I…” A rogue sob escapes him, and he buries himself further in Cas’ neck as the angel shushes him.
“What happened to Sam wasn’t your fault, and you know it,” he says calmly. “You tried your best, and you did an amazing job keeping him as safe as you could. You can’t control everything, Dean, and that doesn’t make you a failure, despite what the voice in your head tells you, nor does this make you weak. I know how much Sam’s death hurt you, and I should have known better than to leave you in that state. That was my fault, and I’m sorry. But you’re not bad, Dean. And I know you don’t believe me yet, but I’m going to try my best to show you.”
Slowly, Dean nods, gasping as he tries to calm himself down. Eventually, his breaths regain a somewhat normal rhythm, his cries reduced to small hiccups. “That’s good, Dean,” Cas murmurs, kissing his temple softly. “Deep breaths. I’m here.”
A washcloth appears in Cas hand, and he manages to coax Dean out from his hiding place enough to gently wipe his face. Dean moans softly at the cool cloth, and Cas smiles. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now, I know we have a lot to discuss. But right now, you need to rest. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten any real sleep.” Dean shakes his head hard, his grip tightening again. “It’s okay. I’m going to be right here when you wake up. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but all I can do is promise and hope that you’ll give me a chance to prove it to you.”
Dean sniffs again. “What if this is just a dream?” he murmurs.
Cas considers it, stroking a hand through his hair lightly. “I understand why you’re scared,” he says soothingly. “But I promise this isn’t going away, and neither will I. It’s alright to let go now. You’re safe. I’m not leaving you. Just relax.”
It takes a long minute, but finally the last bit of fight leaves him, and Dean goes limp in Cas’ hold. The angel smiles, continuing the light motion through his hair as he hums soothingly, and it’s only another few minutes before the exhaustion overcomes the man in his lap. He continues to hum lightly, keeping an eye on Dean’s dreams, pleased when he sleeps peacefully through the night. Though he knows they’re in for a difficult conversation, he also knows how hard it is for Dean to give up even a little bit of control. For him to allow Cas to care for him, even if it’s just for one night, gives him hope that things can be repaired. It won’t be easy. But for now, Cas is content to watch his human sleep.