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Dean yawned in the passenger seat of the Impala, foregoing yet another night of sleep, as Sam stretched to reach for the case file he’d prepared. Dean asked, “So, what did you dig up again?”
“The guy that got attacked the other night, his neighbor was the one to bring him to the hospital. Spooked her enough to want to stay at a friend’s place tonight. Anyway, she said she smelled sulfur, so looks like a demon.”
Dean rubbed his sleepy eyes and said, “Wait, didn’t the guy say he thought he got mauled by a little girl?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Sounds familiar. Can’t put my finger on it though.”
Sam frowned as he tried to remember if he knew anything that connected the clues he had before him and then, with a click of his tongue, he said, “Dude, it’s probably an acheri.”
“An acheri? Dude, I don’t think I’ve even seen one.”
“I have,” Sam said hesitantly, “Uh, back when Azazel zapped me to Cold Oak.”
“Oh,” Dean said, choosing at that moment to double-check his gun. “Same drill as demons, right?”
“Salt or iron,” Sam confirmed. “Knife will give us a permanent solution.”
So they pulled the necessary equipment from the trunk before entering the apartment complex and popping the lock of one of the residences. There was a light on in one of the rooms and Dean hissed under his breath, “Thought you said she wouldn’t be here!”
Before Sam could answer, a woman came through the door and let out a short yelp before recognizing Sam, “Oh, god. It’s just you, agent.”
“Um, yeah. Hi there. Sophie Briggs, right?”
Once she had gotten over the shock, Sophie narrowed her eyes at him, “What are you doing here?”
Sam cleared his throat, “Ah, well, since you seemed so upset at the hospital, just thought we’d do a sweep of the premises to make sure it’s all-clear for you.”
“Yeah, right. And don’t you need a warrant to barge right in, guns blazing, without my permission?”
Sam was at a loss for words, so Dean put on what he liked to call his 'razzle-dazzle' smile to try and charm their way out of this one, “Listen, Sophie- can I call you Sophie? I’m Agent Plant. We just came across some new evidence that had lead us to believe the killer may still be in the area. Just wanted to be sure you weren’t a target. And my partner tells me you’d been planning on staying someplace else tonight, so if you’d like an escort, I’d be more than happy to assist.”
Sophie seemed to weigh the situation in her head while Sam and Dean held their breaths, hoping she would let them slide. She was a fairly pretty woman, with long brown hair and dark eyes. She was just the kind of tail Dean used to chase on the regular before that habit had dulled down dramatically, and he wasn’t particularly keen on putting the effort into the standard procedure to get laid that night. Especially not when they’d just broken into her apartment fully armed, which was all sorts of creepy out of context.
Finally, she said, “Could… Could I see your badge again? Both of you?”
They agreed, and as she reached for Dean’s false ID, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him despite her shout of protest, just barely saving her from the claws of a monstrous child. Sophie turned just in time to see the demon’s grotesque face and she screamed before Sam shot it with a salt round, causing it to fade with a screech.
Sophie stumbled backwards until she backed into the wall and cried out, “What the hell was that!?”
“It’ll be back,” Sam said. “Dean, get her out of here.”
“Alright, hold on. You’re gonna need this.” He pulled their demon-killing blade from his belt and was handing it to Sam when the demon reappeared and launched itself at Sophie. The knife clattered to the ground as Dean dove between them, the acheri’s claws digging deep into his back as he leaned over Sophie, shielding her with his body, his arms pressed against the wall on either side of her. He grit his teeth and screwed his eyes shut at the pain, wrenching them open to make sure Sophie hadn’t been injured. She stared back at him, awed.
Dean let out a rough sigh as the demon screamed and the claws disappeared from his back after Sam had stabbed it.
Sam gingerly touched Dean’s arm and asked, “Dean, you gonna be alright?”
Dean and Sophie’s eyes were still locked, unblinking, when Dean mumbled absently, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m alright.”
When he still leaned over Sophie, who didn’t seem too bothered by it or what she’d just witnessed, Sam said, “Uh… Dean?”
Finally, Dean blinked, and his eyes seemed to drag behind to keep looking at Sophie as he turned until he broke contact to look at Sam, “Yeah? Oh, I’m… Never mind.”
Sam peered at Dean as if examining him for head trauma before shrugging it off. Sophie was still against the wall, a little out of breath, but she didn’t seem too disturbed at the fact that she’d just been attacked by a demon. Regardless, Sam decided to give her a run-down of what had happened, seeing as Dean was suddenly unable to form coherent sentences.
As they were on their way out, Sophie said, “Wait.” Dean immediately spun around and came right back to her as she said, “It won’t come back, will it?”
“Don’t worry,” Dean said. “That thing’s not gonna hurt anybody any more. Wouldn’t leave you here alone if it could.”
Sophie smiled softly and Sam could swear he felt an uncomfortable blush coming on as he watched the two make dewey-eyes at each other. Sophie said, “Well… In case something strange starts happening again… do you think I could get your number so I could call you?”
Sam started to pull out one of their fake business cards when Sophie’s eye flickered up to his, almost in a warning, before looking pointedly at Dean. Sam could take a hint when he saw one, so he let Dean give her his own card. What surprised him even more was when Dean added, “In case that line doesn’t work, let me give you my personal number.” And he does, scribbling the number of his main, not-so-disposable phone on the back of the card and giving it back to her with a smile, “If you need me, you can call me. Any time, day or night.”
Sam rolled his eyes and said, “Glad to help. Take care,” before dragging Dean away.
Back at the motel, Dean hissed between his teeth as Sam pierced his skin with a needle, pulling a thread through as he stitched up the deeper gashes on his back. Sam repeated the action, closing up one wound before starting up on the next one. Between groans of pain, Dean said, “So… an acheri. That’s something you don’t see every day.”
“Yeah, well… crazy times. I’m surprised we haven’t run into more before.”
“Yeah…” Dean grunted as Sam wiped down his closed cuts with a whiskey-soaked washcloth. “Hey, what do you think of Sophie?”
“Um… I dunno, Dean. She’s alright, I guess.”
Dean nodded, “Yeah, but I mean, she’s really something, isn’t she?”
“What? Dean, you barely spoke even five minutes. How would you know?”
Dean shrugged, regretting it as his stitches stung him, “I dunno, man… just something about her, I guess.”
“What’s up with you? You’re acting really weird.”
“Nothing! Nothing… Come on, Sam, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve been attracted to someone.”
“I know,” Sam said. “I just don’t think I’ve really seen you like this before.”
“Like what?”
“You just seem… smitten.”
Dean frowned at the accusation, “Smitten? Are you serious, Sammy? What, have you been reading too many romance novels? I just like her, that’s all.”
“If you say so,” Sam said, just before Dean’s phone started ringing.
Dean snatched up his phone from the bed and answered, “Hello?”
His eyes widened, “Sophie? Are you alright?” He breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled, “Oh, good… Yeah, yeah, I’d love to… Sounds great, I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Seven o’ clock?... Okay, see you then.”
Dean twisted around to look at Sam, a cheeky grin on his face that said he was only too proud of himself, "Guess who just called me up for a date."
"At two in the morning? That's a little weird."
"Nah," said Dean, "I actually think it's pretty hot. She's taking charge, getting what she wants before someone else swoops in for a piece of my sweet ass."
Sam scoffed, "Okay, Dean. Whatever you say."
And he let Dean get away with his conceited comments simply because he hadn't seen Dean so carefree in years. It was nice, and he didn’t have the heart to be as merciless as Dean would be if the situation were reversed.
But he was starting to reconsider twenty-four hours later when Dean came back to the motel, smiling even before he walked in the door, “Hey, Sammy. You’re still up?”
“Yeah… had a good night, I take it?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.” It seemed his mouth refused to stay straight as Dean kicked off his shoes, “I mean, Sophie is just… she’s pretty awesome.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, “Yeah? I’m surprised you didn’t decide to stay the night, then. I wasn’t expecting you back anyway.”
“Nah, not this time.” His expression softened, “I wanna do this right, y’know? Take it slow for a while. See how it goes.”
At this, Sam was thoroughly alarmed, “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
“Shut up,” Dean said dismissively. “I”m going to bed. Gonna meet Sophie tomorrow too. Oh yeah, and we’re sticking around for the rest of the week, at least.”
While Dean readied himself for bed, Sam couldn’t help but feel completely weirded out. Dean’s behavior was straight-up bizarre. Well, for him, at least. Dean Winchester didn’t swoon, dammit. He didn’t go on romantic dates without at least trying to clear all of the bases. Sure, it was sweet, and maybe Dean deserved to finally find someone that made him happy. But Sam’s instinct told him something was up.
So the next evening, when Dean went on his second date, Sam called Cas, “Hey, Cas. You mind swinging by? I was hoping you could help me figure out a hunch I’ve got.”
“Of course,” Cas said. “Where are you?”
“Motel 64 in Elkhorn, Nebraska. Room 2D.”
Cas appeared before him in an instant, “Hello, Sam.” He looked around the room before asking, “Where’s Dean?”
Sam’s eyebrows twitched up, still having a hard time with the sight of his brother practically giddy as he gushed about Sophie, all the while texting her in the middle of every conversation. He said, “Not here. He’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“What do you mean? Is something wrong?”
“I dunno. I feel like a jerk thinking something’s wrong, but he’s really not been himself since the other night. We were hunting an acheri and we’d just saved this woman when suddenly they couldn’t take their eyes off of each other. I had to drag him out of there.”
Cas cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Well… I think it sounds like a normal romantic human interaction.”
“That’s the thing. The words ‘Dean’ and ‘romantic’ don’t belong in the same sentence unless the word ‘isn’t’ is in between them. Anyway, I needed some help to do some recon, since I can’t exactly spy on them myself with Dean either with her or me at all times. I was hoping you could help.”
“Of course. So you think maybe this woman is manipulating Dean’s behavior? Could be a witch or a demon. Perhaps a siren. You said you were hunting an acheri?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
Cas explained, “While acheri have been known to act independently, they are easily summoned and controlled. It’s possible she may have summoned the demon to lure Dean in.”
“Great. We didn’t even check to see if she was a demon or anything.” Sam sighed.
“I’ll scout the town for demon activity, see if that’s the case. Let me know when Dean returns and I’ll check on the woman to see what she is and take care of her if I need to.”
And he was gone before Sam could say another word. When Dean comes through the door late that night, Sam shoots Cas a quick text message before greeting him, “Hey, how was the date?” Dean’s cheeks were flushed and he immediately sidled over to the kitchenette where he held onto the back of a chair. Sam got up from where he was sitting on the bed and came over to him, “Hey, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”
Dean looked up at him blankly before he gave him a small smile, saying quietly, “Sammy… I think I’m in love.”
Sam actually took a step back from the bombshell Dean had just dropped, “W-what? Dude, you barely know this girl.”
“I know enough. And man, she’s my dream girl.”
“And what happened to taking it slow?”
“We are! It’s just… I dunno, she’s somethin’ else.”
Dean’s eyes seemed to go out of focus as his mind wandered and Sam snapped, “Dean, I’m sorry, but you, of all people… falling head-over-heels in two days? Sounds a little too Romeo & Juliet to end well.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “It’s not like that. I mean it, Sammy. She loves me too, she said so. And it’s amazing because… she knows me, she knows what I do and she doesn’t push me away for it.” He looked at Sam again, disappointed, “I thought you’d be happy for me. I mean, after all the crap we’ve been through, don’t you think I deserve something good for a change?”
He shook his head and started to walk away, but Sam grabbed his arm, “Dean, I just-”
Dean yanked his arm out of Sam’s grip and kept going, “Just forget it, Sam.”
The following day, Dean had left for another date, and Cas had returned with some intel.
“She’s not a monster.”
“Okay, that’s great. Doesn’t explain what the hell is happening. Is it a false alarm? Did Dean just lose his mind?”
“Not quite.” Cas said, “The woman has the mark of a cupid on her heart. Fresh.”
Sam was starting to get accustomed to bewildering news and said, “So we can assume Dean was marked too.” He tried to think back to the last time he’d dealt with a cupid and his blood ran cold, “Why does heaven want them together?” The last time he’d faced a cupid, it had told them their parents were fated to be together so they could bring him and Dean into the world, and their whole family suffered for it.
“You’re right to be suspicious,” Cas said, morose. “I did some investigating. It would seem this woman, Sophie Briggs, is also of an important angelic bloodline.”
“Which one?”
“Raugel. She’s not his true vessel, like you were for Lucifer or Dean was for Michael, but her body is still compatible to hold him should he need to take corporeal form. Anyway, a cupid was assigned to bring Sophie and Dean together, but they are rarely told more information than is necessary to carry out the order. I couldn’t find out much more than her bloodline. If cupids are still involved in keeping his bloodline alive… his purpose is still destined to be served.”
“So tell me about this… Raguel. If he gets a true vessel, what is he going to do?”
Cas sighed, “Raguel is meant to keep order in heaven, make sure all angels are performing their orders as they are written and ensuring their cooperation amongst each other, including archangels.”
Sam scoffed, “Well, he’s done a hell of a job.”
“Raguel has been absent for almost as long as God.”
Sam narrowed his eyes, “If he’s meant to keep order… If he comes back-”
“I’ll be eliminated. As will thousands of my brothers,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “It only gets worse.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Scripture states that Raguel is meant to take the form of man on Earth and exterminate luminaries who inaccurately spread the word of God before the Second Coming.”
“Second Coming? You mean, like… Jesus?”
“Well, Jesus is the Holy Ghost, and the Holy Ghost is God, so yes. Before his return, Raguel is meant to purify the heavens and Earth to prepare for God’s arrival.” Cas added, “I have faith in God to be forgiving to me and my brothers… But I know Raguel will not be so merciful.”
Sam let out a disbelieving sigh and asked, “So, if he’s going to ‘exterminate luminaries’... Cas, that’s pretty much any person of faith. Anybody who simply invited their friend to go to church with them. It’s not like we ever had all of the right answers, so even devout followers will die. Not to mention everyone who follows a religion that’s considered inaccurate by this Raguel.”
“Believe me, Sam, I understand how grave Raguel’s return would be, for heaven and Earth,” Cas said.
“What does he need with Dean anyway? He’s not even the right bloodline.”
“As I said before, Raguel was meant to keep even archangels in line. He’s incredibly powerful. As such, he’ll need a vessel strong enough to contain him. Perhaps by mating someone of Michael’s bloodline with his own, the resulting offspring would be suitable.”
Sam was starting to feel sick at the idea that sounded way too much like his parents’ story, and that it was happening all over again to Dean. He said, “We can’t let that happen.”
“I agree.”
"I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You know it," said Dean, before planting a kiss on Sophie's waiting lips. He muttered in her ear, "I love you. So much."
"I love you too. Come over early tomorrow. I can take you to that gourmet breakfast place I told you about with the bacon, egg, and cheese muffins. I think you'll like them."
Dean smiled broadly, "You know me so well already."
"You're not that hard to figure out, hun'," Sophie teased with a wink. Dean laughed and gave her another smooch or three before finally tearing himself away and leaving her apartment complex.
Once he sat down in the Impala, he shook his head, still having a hard time believing he'd managed to find someone like Sophie. What he felt for her was unlike anything he'd felt before. Not for Lisa. Not for Cassie. No, this... this was what true love felt like, he thought to himself. He didn't even bother scolding himself for having such a flowery commentary running through his mind. He was too preoccupied with thoughts of another life in the making as he drove back to the motel.
He went into the room and immediately noticed Cas and Sam sitting at the table in the kitchenette, both of them looking up at him expectantly. Dean snorted, “Told you not to wait up mom and dad. What, did I miss curfew?” He tossed his keys onto the table, “Cas, what’re you doing here? Got a case?”
Cas stood up, “Yes. Actually, it might be best if you have a seat.”
Dean’s flickered back and forth between Cas and his brother suspiciously before lowering himself to sit on the bed, “Okay. Weird. Anyway, what’s going on?”
Sam leaned forward in his chair, leaning on his elbows and looking up at Dean through his hair gently in the way he does when he has to deliver bad news to people they’ve met on hunts, “Dean, it’s about you. And Sophie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird how quickly you fell for her?”
Dean’s face grew stony in anger, “Seriously, Sam? I take a shine to a girl and you call Cas here to see if she’s, what, a witch? Then you hold a freaking… intervention! I can’t believe you.”
“Dean,” Cas said, “he was right to worry.”
Dean hesitated before finally asking, “Did you find anything?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, both of you have been marked by cupids.”
Dean let out a small huff of surprise before he finally said, “Alright… doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” Sam said, “Dean, if you stay with her, you’re playing right into their hands. And things are going to get bad.”
Dean’s stubbornness cracked as he asked, “How bad?”
Cas filled him in on the details of Raguel and said, “You’ve been manipulated into having feelings for her. You’re meant to procreate with her. And your children will be subjected to a fate not unlike yours. It could be in twenty years or a millenium from now, but your descendants will carry the burden of being a vessel for heaven, and they will be forced to serve its ends.”
Dean’s composure had all but dissolved. It sounded too much like the speech Sam gave their mother when they’d travelled back in time to try and do exactly what Cas and Sam were doing here with Dean. He was starting to understand just how devastated his young mother had felt. He whispered, “But… I can’t leave Sophie… I can’t.”
Cas was about to explain again that their love wasn’t even a natural one when Sam cut in, explaining softly, “Dean, this is exactly what happened to mom. They brought her and dad together to have us. Now she’s dead... and we were forced into a life she never wanted for us. So tell me… do you want the same for Sophie? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” Dean put his head in his hands as Sam continued, “I’m sorry that this is happening. I’m sorry you can’t have this, I really am… But you know as well as I do that as long as angels are involved, this won’t end well.”
Dean sat there for a long while. He’d thought he was done being heaven’s puppet, but here he was being forced to do its dirty work yet again. And now Sophie, his Sophie, was a part of it too. He wanted to throw a wrench into his destiny again, because screw them. It tore him apart inside to even think of leaving Sophie. But he’d had a history of dragging people down with him. He shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. It’s just further proof that he could never even entertain the idea of loving anybody. That wasn’t a life meant for him. Finally, he scrubbed his face with his hand and muttered, voice broken, “What do I have to do?”
Sam sighed in relief, glad they didn’t have to force Dean out of the situation, and Cas said bluntly, “Well, Sophie is likely under heaven’s protection right now, so killing her is out of the question.”
Dean started, but Sam was first to ask, “Is there a way to remove the mark?”
“No. It’s impossible.”
“So,” Dean began slowly, “I’m stuck like this? Me and her? We’ve got to feel like this and stay away from each other?” He breathed a heavy sigh, “If it’s just me, fine… But I can’t just up and leave Sophie if she’s just going to have a broken heart for the rest of her life.”
Cas said, “There’s a spell. It can be used to manipulate the mark and transfer the effect.”
Cas disappeared, leaving both of the brothers with questions on the tips of their tongues. The silence between them hung heavy until Dean’s voice cracked out, “Do-... Do you think I could call her?”
Sam’s face melted into pity that Dean didn’t even flinch from. It wasn’t fair, he knew that. It’s not like anything in their lives ever was. It didn’t make him hurt any less to have to see his brother suffer yet another huge disappointment. He nodded, “Yeah. Should be alright.”
Dean got up and stepped to the far end of the room before calling Sophie. Sam could overhear Dean as he said softly, “Hey baby.. No, I’m alright, don’t worry… Looks like I won’t be able to make it tomorrow… I know, I know. I’m sorry. I really wanted to see you but, uh… there’s a case out of town… No, actually, I…” Dean paused, collecting himself before saying, “I won’t be coming back… I’m so, so sorry, and I love you, bu-... I can’t. We can’t do this anymore… D-don’t cry, I-... I’m sorry. Take care, Sophie.”
Both brothers kept their backs turned as they wiped their eyes.
Sam said again, “I’m sorry, Dean.”
“No… it’s okay.” Dean chewed on his lip in distress before saying, “Thank you, Sammy. For keeping an eye out on me.”
Sam offered a bittersweet smile, “It’s what I’m here for. Someone’s got to.”
Suddenly, Cas appeared, bringing with him a swift gust of wind and a number of various objects in his arms. He laid everything out on the table and started working without a word. Sam asked, “How exactly does this work? You said you have to transfer the effect.”
“Correct,” Cas said, bringing up a vial of some amber liquid up to eye level with a squint before unplugging it and pouring its contents into a heavy brass bowl.
“Where’s it getting transferred?”
“Well, it’s impossible to erase the effect if both parties are still under the spell. Transferring the spell to another human wouldn’t do any good for Dean or for the other person’s free will. It’s why I’ll transfer the spell to myself.”
Dean seemed to snap out of his melancholy and asked, “Wait, what? How the hell is that going to help?”
Cas explained, “Sophie will be released from her spell since her other half in the spell, you, will no longer be bound to her but to somebody else. Her affections will subside with time as if you’d simply had a normal separation.”
“Okay, great,” Dean said. “But why’s it gotta be you? No offense, Cas, but I think it’d create a pretty awkward dynamic. Not exactly fired up to go gaga for you at all, much less forever.”
“It won’t be permanent. The mark is only intended for humans. I’m an angel and my vessel’s original spirit is no longer bound to this body. If the mark is transferred to my heart, it won’t take effect since there’s no soul in here to bind to yours. While initially your feelings for Sophie will transfer to me, they’ll have the same effect as Sophie’s. What you feel will subside with time because there will be no actual bonding between two hearts since mine won’t respond to the mark.”
“Still doesn’t sound like any fun.”
“Would you rather maintain your mark and Sophie’s, and somehow try to live without her? Performing the transfer is much easier than tearing yourself away from your falsely contrived soul mate. Besides, who else is there? Sam? I doubt either of you would enjoy that.”
The brothers both wrinkled their noses at the idea and Castiel continued pouring various herbs in the bowl, “Also, as long as I’m alive, you can never be struck by a cupid’s spell again since you’ll still be linked to another beating heart.”
Dean shook his head before finally conceding, “Alright, fine. Let’s just get this over with.”
After Dean and Cas contributed a few drops of their blood to the amalgam, Cas muttered a few words of Enochian.
After a moment of silence, Sam asked, “Did… did it work?” He looked between Dean and Cas for any sign of change before asking, “Dean?”
Dean let out a short breath. He was aware that he was under the effect of the spell, but it didn’t change the way his heart began to race at the sight of Cas, who was suddenly… different. When Sam called him again, Dean said, “W-what?”
“How do you feel?”
“I’m… I’m fine.”
“No, I mean…” Sam pressed on, “You’ve gotta feel something. Do you…do you feel any different?”
“I-I…” Dean sputtered, a blush building on his cheeks as he stared at the ground, “What do you think, Sam? Yeah, everything’s going according to plan, but I’m not going to sit here and talk about my feelings. Like it’s not embarrassing enough.”
“What about… Sophie?”
“What about her?”
Sam raised an eyebrow, “How do you feel about her?”
Dean was silent for a moment, surprised. He’d remembered only moments before being on the verge of tears because he cared so much for Sophie, but here he was feeling almost… indifferent about her. Or at least, their relationship. Sure, he still felt like a dick for breaking it off simply because he didn’t want anybody to hurt because of him. It seemed the spell, no matter who it was aimed at, didn’t interfere with the non-romantic part of his brain, and he was still the same person. Just a person who was hopelessly in love with whoever triggered the mark on his heart.
Dean said, “Well, it’s not like I don’t care about her anymore. I just don’t… love her.”
And it was true. He didn’t. No, he was in love with Cas, like that wasn’t the weirdest thing ever. He still was upset that Sophie had to get mixed up in all of this, but at least he’d be suffering too. It’s not like Cas would ever love him back, and being aware of the spell didn’t make him feel any better about it as his heart already started to break at the thought. The surge of feelings he suddenly had for Cas didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like they would ever be reciprocated. It hurt like crazy, but Dean knew it was necessary to stop the impending heavenly whatever that he’d managed to get himself caught in yet again.
Dean finally said gruffly, “Alright, now that that’s done, can we please just put this town in the rearview?” He trudged into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.
Sam looked at Cas in concern, “You think he’ll be okay?”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Cas said. “What’s important is that we’ve averted catastrophe.”
Something clattered to the floor behind the bathroom door and Sam looked over as he muttered, “Yeah… I guess.”
They’d been out of town for a few weeks. Sam and Dean had already worked a couple of cases. They’d criss-crossed the country twice since Elkhorn, considering Dean had been finding jobs for them left and right, to the point that they hardly had a spare moment. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d be impressed by Dean’s drive.
But Sam did know better. He knew Dean needed to keep himself busy or he’d go crazy. The effect of the transfer took more of a toll on him than Dean dared to show. Dean actively acted normally, but it’s when he thought Sam wasn’t looking that his brother caught him behaving strangely. The wounded sighs, the long stares at his cell phone before shoving it in his pocket with a defeated look in his eye, the hidden bottle of Jack that made an appearance at least a few times a day, the way he sat up on the edge of the bed in the morning right after waking, curling in on himself for a moment before springing up and pretending that nothing was wrong. If Sam ever tried to bring it up, Dean immediately got cagey, dismissing Sam’s concerns or flat-out refusing to discuss anything.
And Dean preferred it that way. He didn’t need any heart-to-heart that Sam seemed all too eager to initiate. He’d much rather bury it all, in the same manner that he’s used to doing. And that’d be exactly what he would be doing, except this time, everything he buried seemed to sprout right back up through the dirt, like a flower, or, as Dean preferred to think of it, a zombie. After all, it seemed that all he wanted was for these feelings to die forever, but they instead came back to attack him with a vengeance. And, unfortunately unlike a zombie, his feelings didn’t exactly have a head he could enthusiastically blow up to kill besides the one on his own shoulders, and he wasn’t quite that desperate for those kinds of measures.
But Dean had been getting by for a while. Sure it got weird when Sam suggested calling Cas for a case and Dean rattled off a list of watered-down excuses for why they didn’t need him. And it was worse when he knew he couldn’t deny the fact that lives would be at risk if they didn’t call Cas in for backup. Actually speaking to Cas in person was painfully awkward and just plain… painful. And he couldn’t do it for long before he had to make some excuse to go out to his car or to just get away from him.
However, there is one day, after one too many nightcaps, when Dean dragged his feet into the motel parking lot, cell phone in hand as he called Cas on his own for the first time since before Elkhorn.
Cas appeared before him, “ Hello, Dean. Are you alright?”
“No,” Dean muttered miserably.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m just… I’m… I wanted to see you.”
Cas’ eyes shifted around uncomfortably, “Dean, I believe the spell is influencing your thinking.”
“No, screw the spell, Cas!” Dean leaned against the Impala and ran a hand through his hair, looking up at Cas sheepishly, “What the hell… Cas, you think… You think maybe this could work?”
“Dean, I-”
“I mean… let me just cut to the chase...” Dean let out a soft breath, taking a step closer, “I love you, Cas. And I… I wanna hold onto this. I can’t give this up.” He offered a small smile, “I mean, it’s better this way. We already look out for each other. Being with you wouldn’t be because of some angels trying to make me play their game. This actually makes sense, you and me. This is… we could actually do this.”
Cas took a half-step back, “Dean. This isn’t you.” Dean hung his head, visibly deflated as Cas continued, “You’re not in your right mind about me. And you won’t be for some time.”
Dean sniffed and looked back up, eyes wet but defenses slammed right back up as he said coldly, “Fine… whatever.” He shrugged, “Nothing I can’t handle. Not like I’ve never had to throw away everything I’ve ever wanted before. Just another day in the life.”
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said, seeing right through Dean’s weak bravado. “I am. I wish there was an easier way to have handled this. But you know as well as I do that you’re still experiencing the residual effect of the spell. Give it time, Dean,” Cas implored.
Dean nodded, turning his back, “Yeah, sure. I’ll muddle through.”
“Dean.”
But he was already walking away, “Night, Cas. See you around."
Dean stepped into the dark motel room where Sam was still sleeping soundly. He peered through the curtains to see Cas still in the parking lot. The angel ran a gentle hand over the roof of the Impala before pulling it back and vanishing into the air. Something about the gesture tugged at Dean’s heartstrings, and before he started bawling about his predicament, he decided to get under the covers and let the liquor in his system lull him into a dreamless sleep.
A few days later, Sam and Dean were working another case. Sam sat in their motel room, poring over a dusty old library book filled with scans of ancient tablets. Completely stumped, Sam had decided to call Cas.
"Hey Cas," Sam said when the angel appeared.
"Sam,” said Cas. “Dean isn’t…”
“No, he’s doing some questioning at the hospital.”
“Oh.” Cas seemed to relax a bit, “Alright. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, actually. This case is a little out of the ordinary for us. This book gives me only broad details on these tablets, but not anything I really need. These hieroglyphs are a little too tough for me to decipher and I was wondering if you could help me interpret them.”
Cas bent over the book, eyes squinted as he peered over the pages. He pointed at one of the symbols, “This is the Sumerian glyph for Utukku. They’re a type of spirit, sometimes benevolent or sometimes evil.”
“What’s their usual behavior like? Does it say?”
“What kind of things have you been seeing?”
“A lot of kids have been falling into comas in their sleep. There’s a few elderly people with the same problem, so we’ve ruled out a shtriga.”
Cas ran his fingers down the page, pointing out symbols that Sam still couldn’t read as he said, “It says here that evil utukku are called Edimmu. Ghosts of those who weren’t buried properly. Edimmu feed on the weak, usually children. Though I would believe the elderly fall into that category as well. This may be what you’re hunting. But what is it doing here?”
Sam shrugged, “I figured it’s managed to stay under the radar this whole time. Or, more likely, it was jostled up by the crap that’s happened over the years. The apocalypse, Eve, cracking Purgatory… Could be anything, really. I’ve kind stopped wondering at this point. As long as more don’t show up, I don’t push it.”
“I see.”
“Anyway,” Sam said, “How do we kill it?”
“You can’t. The spirit can be settled with a proper funeral, but chances are this spirit is so old it’s body is little more than dust. However, a funeral libation should suffice.”
“Libation?”
“A drink poured in offering to the spirit.”
“Wow,” Sam said. “That’s gotta be the least violent thing I’ve had to do to get rid of a spirit. Dean, will be happy, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam’s smile faltered, “Ah, you know. He’s kinda been hitting the bottle a little hard lately. Since the whole cupid thing.”
“Oh…” Cas said, “If the victims are still comatose after you’ve performed the libation, just let me know and I’ll see if I can heal them once the spirit is gone.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Sam said, not missing the obvious change of subject, “I’ll do that.”
“If that’s all-”
“Cas, wait.” Sam gave Cas an apologetic look, “Listen, I know things have been pretty… weird between you and Dean these days.”
“I suppose so. I expected things to change, but it’s been a bit… strange. Oftentimes I have no idea what is happening,” Cas said, matter-of-factly.
“Guess you haven’t heard unrequited love is a bitch. People do weird stuff because of it. So, sorry in advance if Dean does anything dumb.”
“Is there anything I could be doing to make things easier for him?”
Sam pondered for a moment before saying, “I guess that depends on Dean. For some people, it’s easier to still see the other person and let their feelings taper off until things go back to normal. Sometimes it’s easier to cut ties altogether. But I know neither of us want that.”
“So then what?”
Sam shrugged, “Some people just kind of avoid the other person if they can until their feelings die down enough that they can face them again.”
Cas shook his head, “It all seems very complicated.”
“Yeah, well, it’s generally accepted among humans that it’s not a good idea to fall for your friends either. Sure, it works out sometimes, but most of the time it just kinda ruins the friendship...”
“I’m starting to understand that,” Cas muttered.
Sam said quickly, “I’m not saying that that’s how it’s gonna be. I mean, the three of us… we don’t exactly have the standard model of friendship anyway. It’s gonna be crazy sometimes, it already has been. This is just something else we’ve got to work around. We’ve gotten over worse.”
Cas nodded, “That is true.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that I get this is weird. But it’s not something you guys can’t work out eventually. Things’ll go back to some level of normal with time.” Sam said, “You should stick around more. Maybe it’ll help things move along. I mean, you’ve already been dropping by every now and then, and Dean seems to be handling it okay. I think he’s doing a little better.”
Cas looked up at him skeptically, and Sam only looked back, confused. Cas cleared his expression, figuring Dean hadn’t told Sam about their meeting a few nights before. He hadn’t been to see them since. If Sam had known, Cas knew he wouldn’t be so daft as to think what Dean needed was even more of him so soon, no matter how optimistic he was about it.
It was then that the door swung open and Dean stopped short upon seeing Cas, something sweeping over his features. He recovered quickly, smoothing a hand over his suit as he said with forced composure, “Hey, Sam. Cas.” He barely acknowledged the latter with more than a glance.
The tension was palpable, and Sam said, “Uh… hey, Dean. Anything new crop up?”
“Not really. Another granny and two more kids have been admitted. You?”
“Well, ah, Cas was just helping me translate these runes.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean said with feigned interest.
“Ancient Sumerian spirit. Seems like a quick fix, too.”
“That’s great. Uh… thanks, Cas.”
“You’re… you’re welcome,” Cas said, watching Dean carefully.
The silence was stifling around them, and Dean said, “I’m gonna, uh, get cleaned up,” and he retreated into the bathroom with his duffel bag.
Sam cleared his throat and said, “I stand corrected. Looks like he’s taking the avoidance route. He must still be having a tough time.”
Cas nodded, “It seems that way. It may be best if I don’t come by too often. Again, if you need me, let me know, but I will otherwise keep my distance.”
Sam didn’t try to stop him this time. He knew Cas was probably right. But he wasn’t happy about it either. He sighed, “Alright. See you around, Cas.”
And then Cas was gone.
Dean swiftly undressed and jumped under a hot shower, grateful that this motel had a good heater and fairly good water pressure, and he let the heavy drops pound against his back . His shoulders hunched forward as he touched his chest, where his marked heart felt like a pulled muscle, tight and restrained since Dean couldn’t act on his feelings the way he wanted to.
He hadn’t wanted to see Cas. He couldn’t exactly blame Sam for calling him over. They still needed his help from time to time. But a simple text message might have been nice.
But he wasn’t mad. He hadn’t been mad about anything since the cupid struck him. Either he’d been hopelessly in love with Sophie and happy about it, or he was hopelessly in love with Cas and felt miserable because of it. He couldn’t look at the guy without feeling pathetically despondent. Just when he was starting to think maybe the worst of it was over, the sight of Cas brought him right back to square one. It was frustrating having to start all over, and he was exhausted from putting himself back together again and again. It was like running on a bridge that was falling out from under him, and there was no choice but to keep running, no matter how painful it was. He just wanted a break, but it seemed there was none in sight.
He’d stopped being embarrassed about it too. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t help his feelings. He was just too tired from the toll they took on him to bother caring. He kept telling himself that this was just another consequence of the job. He just got dealt another bad hand and he’d have to deal with it like he had dealt with everything before.
But he was used to fighting bad guys. He was used to fighting for what was right. But this, what he felt for Cas… It was amazing and wonderful, and it felt wrong to want to kill it. He’d come to terms with the fact that he would have to. But seeing Cas brought all of those doubts back full-force. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He wanted to lay down his arms and surrender to it.
Sam was researching what they would need to put the edimmu to rest when Dean poked his head out of the bathroom cautiously before emerging. It was obvious to Sam that Dean had been completely thrown, even as he padded softly to his bed. Sam asked, “You alright?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s just… you didn’t seem too thrilled to see Cas, is all.”
Dean frowned, “Drop it, Sam. I’m going to bed.”
Sam watched as Dean got under the covers with his back turned, curling in on himself and twisting the sheets around him and over his face, tense. It was sad, Sam thought, since he was used to seeing Dean relaxed, splayed out and snoring without a care. But here was his big brother, shrinking in on himself and not even trying all that hard to hide what he was feeling in favor of hiding himself. Sam couldn’t help but pity him. But he knew there was little that Dean would let him do to help, so he simply shut his computer and got to bed shortly after.
Dean listened to Sam putter around, and before he knew it, the room was dark, the silence only interrupted by Sam’s light snores. Dean was wide-awake, and he didn’t feel sleep coming on for a long time. And it was maddening.
After only a few more minutes of wallowing in his love-sick thoughts, he’d had enough. He slid out of bed, pulled on his boots and jacket as silently as possible, and grabbed his keys. But the squeak of the doorknob was enough for Sam’s eyes to crack open at the sound. He asked, “Dean? Are you okay? Where are you going?”
“Just going for a drive. Go back to sleep.” He doesn’t give Sam the chance to get another word in because he was too close to breaking and he knew if Sam offered one more word of concern, the kindness would split him right open and he’d be spilling his heart out to his little brother in no time. He didn’t have it in him to bear that kind of shame on top of everything else, so he jumped in the Impala and zoomed out of the parking lot, veering immediately onto the nearby highway on-ramp.
One of the downsides to Dean’s affliction was that it was hard for him to use his usual distractions to clear his head. The first few nights after the transfer, he’d found that his mind, completely drowned in unrequited love, had the incredible ability to figure out ways to relate every single song in his tape collection to Cas. No matter how far it stretched to make the connection, it was there. Even songs he’d never heard before that came up on the radio would quickly become some ode to the angel in some way or another, and made him wish Cas was sitting beside him as he sped down the open road, empty in the middle of the night. It was irritating because the silence hadn’t been doing him any favors either.
If this was like any other break-up, Dean figured, he’d just have to find a way to get over it. But he didn’t have a lot of experience with break-ups. The vast majority of his relationships hadn’t lasted more than the few days it took for him to finish a case before he skipped town. There weren’t many people he’d loved and lost. There was Cassie (and, wow, Dean thought, what a freaking coincidence), and there was Lisa.
Lisa… he’d come into her life because he’d made a promise and nobody else would have him. And he still didn’t know if he was in love with her or if he’d grown to love her and Ben and the life they’d built together. But if he was being honest, no matter how much he cared for them, or wanted to, he was too distressed from losing Sam, too paranoid about the things in the dark that were lurking, maybe hunting them or killing other innocent people because he decided to hang up the shotgun. The whole relationship was drenched in a guilt that Dean never let on.
Then his life interfered too much and it tore them apart. He thought he could have both and he was wrong. It wasn’t so much of a normal break-up as it was an issue of safety. Leaving was probably the best thing he’d done for all of them, even though it still hurt that they no longer had any memory of him. It was just more weight he’d been glad to carry if it meant he could keep them from getting hurt because of him.
With Cassie, though, he knew he was in love with her. He was young and a little more optimistic and definitely more naive. Life was simpler for him then, and factoring a romance into the equation wasn’t filled with a bunch of terrified ‘what-if’s. He loved her, she loved him, and that was all he needed to decide he was ready to commit and put her first, even if he had to bust his ass juggling the rest of his life around her. It’s when he decided he needed to be honest with her and let her in on the big secret of what he did for a living.
Things hadn’t ended well, and he hadn’t handled it all that well either. For the first time, he’d opened up about his life, breaking that sacred family rule to keep it quiet, and she shot him down. Sure, it wasn’t ‘the life’ that she rejected, he later learned. It was that she thought he was trying to get rid of her with some fantastical excuse. But neither of them interpreted the situation clearly and they both felt like they’d been rejected. It was a tragic misunderstanding. And for Dean, it was scarring enough that he didn’t get close with anybody again for years. He never revealed his life, and if he’d met someone on the job, he kept it casual, never letting himself get attached. It was easier.
And it hadn’t helped that he was still hunting with his father at the time. It was Dean’s first experience with heartbreak, and he could have used a little bit of sympathy. Man up, John had told him, when Dean sat in the passenger seat of the Impala that kept putting more distance between them and Cape Girardeau, leaning his head against the cold window and refusing to look at his father with watery eyes. John repeated his old mantra, the one he’d been telling Dean since he had his first crush at some middle school he’d gone to for all of a month. Don’t get mixed up with civvies. They live in a different world than us, John had said.
Dean remembered it being one of the darker times of his life. He drank a lot more. He picked fights. And he would’ve been arrested if years of con work and dodging the authorities hadn’t prepared him. A cloud had hung over him for almost a year after losing Cassie. Not only did he miss her and what they had, but Dean felt shitty about himself. If Cassie, brave, hard-as-nails Cassie, couldn’t accept him, how could anybody else?
He started admitted to himself the hard truths about his life that he used to swat away. He was a hunter. He wasn’t going to find anybody who was going to stick around with a guy like him. And even if he did, he knew he was a target, and if anything targetted him, the people he loved would be next on the list. At least John and Sam knew what they were up against and could defend themselves against the supernatural. But Cassie? She was a college girl who hadn’t shot a gun in her life until Dean taught her how. He shuddered to think about losing her. He saw how John transformed when Mary died. And John was a strong man. Dean couldn’t imagine surviving that kind of pain himself.
It was that break-up that made Dean resign himself to a life of hunting. Before, he thought maybe after Yellow-Eyes was dust, he could settle down somewhere, get a real job and help Sam with school, maybe find a nice girl, putting the hunting life as far behind him as he could in favor of turning into some regular shmuck. It was as close to a dream he ever allowed himself to have.
But it wasn’t meant for him, he’d decided. He was going to die bloody and before his time anyway, so there was never any point in looking for someone to grow old with. He rejected romance and sought after easy lays, even more than before. He’d built up so many walls that by the time he finally started hunting with Sam again, he started to forget exactly what he was defending in the fortress in his mind.
But he’d gotten a glimpse through a crack in the wall when he was first hit with the cupid’s spell. For the first time in a long time, he envisioned a life partnered with somebody besides his brother. He’d thought that maybe he could be happy with Sophie, and maybe, just maybe, this time he could be honest and have somebody love all of him, not just the front he’d put up for the sake of them job. And Sophie did. Maybe he could get what he always wanted. He could get his normal life with the wife, the 2.5 kids and the house in the ‘burbs. Maybe.
But of course, that all had to come crashing down, because Dean Winchester never catches a fucking break. No, he had to fall for Cas, an actual angel literally sent from heaven just for him. But he couldn’t keep him. He couldn’t have him the way he wanted him. And it was breaking his heart.
It figures, Dean thought. Not to say anything was wrong with Cassie, because to this day she remains one of the most amazing people he’d ever met, but Cas… he was an angel of the lord. Talk about being out of his league. If Cassie couldn’t love him, then there was no way an angel would be at all impressed by him. What did he have to offer? Not only was Dean just a human, but a pretty unremarkable one at that. He had more baggage than probably any other human alive, except possibly Sam. He was a cocky, cagey asshole at the best of times and a violent, drunken, depressed bastard at his worst.
And even if he wasn’t, even if humans weren’t so beneath angels, could angels even feel love for them? A love beyond the distant guardianship they were meant to offer? Were they ever wired that?
Dean tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, having worn himself down to the emotional nerve, and before long, he found himself sitting on a riverside, the Impala parked behind him and a brown bag of whiskey in his hand. He’d downed half the bottle just walking from the parking lot to the shore, and his head was swimming. And he just couldn’t take it anymore.
He wanted to see Cas. More than just a painfully awkward glance before tucking his tail between his legs and running away. He had to see him, talk to him. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the spell, but Dean had lost all of his pride as he dialled up Cas’ number on his phone, holding his breath in anticipation as the phone rang.
He let it go, disappointed, when there was no answer. It still made him laugh, Cas’ confused voicemail message, one he’d heard a number of times but was all the more endearing now.
When he heard the high-pitched beep of the voicemail recorder, Dean started talking and couldn’t seem to stop. He wasn’t thinking, he knew, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was past caring how much of a fool he might make of himself. It wasn’t important. The only thing that demanded his attention anymore was his heart that seemed to only beat for Cas. There was a time where that kind of thinking would have been humiliating, but he was over it. He was sure he’d eventually go back to fighting these feelings, but right there, that night, he felt utterly defeated by them.
When Dean went back to the motel the next morning, having woken up with a migraine in the backseat of the Impala with a dead phone, Sam got up from his seat at the small kitchen table with his own phone in his hand, “Dean! Where were you? I called every number and you didn’t pick up.”
“Relax,” Dean said. “Just had one too many. Forget about it.”
“No. Dean, you’re… I’m worried about you, man.”
“Aren’t you always?”
“I’m serious.” When Dean tried to walk past Sam so he could sleep, Sam stepped in front of him and got in his face, “We’re talking about this, Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam, seeing Dean wasn’t putting up much of a fight, steered him to sit in one of the kitchen chairs, dragging the other one closer to sit directly in front of Dean. If it were any other day, Dean might have laughed at the dramatic theatrics of it all.
Sam said flatly, “You’re not handling this well at all.” Dean just stared at the chipped surface of the cheap table as Sam continued, “You’re drinking more than ever. You disappear all the time. And when you’re around you’re a million miles away in your head. Aside from the obvious risk that is if we’re hunting, it’s just plain not healthy, Dean.”
“I know,” Dean muttered. “What the hell am I supposed to do about it, though?” He’d meant to spit it out angrily, but it came out sounding more like a genuine, helpless question.
Sam pleaded, “Just talk to me. We can figure out how to handle it, but you gotta let it out. Bottling it all up is driving you crazy, it’s plain as day.”
Dean sighed, “What do you want me to say? You know what happened. You know what it did to me. There’s nothing to say.”
“Just talk me through what you’re feeling. Maybe it’ll help to get it out.”
Dean pursed his lips for a long moment, on the verge of telling Sam to shove it. But he knew Sam only meant well, and he was probably going to start going gray soon considering how worked up he got worrying about him. He’d only been patient with him. And who else could Dean talk to about it now that he was actually starting to think Sam might have a point about bottling it up?
“Okay,” Dean finally said, “You’re right. I know I’m not exactly handling… this… at all. Guess that spell is really tearing me a new one.” He spared Sam glance but couldn’t carry on talking with his brother staring and hanging on his every word like he was, so he focused on his hands in his lap as he continued, “It’s just… I know I can’t have what I want. Not really. Every time I’ve tried it blew up in my face, and this is no different. Whether it’s Lisa or Sophie or… or Cas… there’s no point in getting my hopes up.”
Sam was visibly upset, but he kept himself composed, knowing that getting Dean to talk feelings was incredibly rare. He was careful not to say the wrong thing that would have Dean clamming back up again, “Well, Dean… you know that what you’re feeling for Cas is because of the spell. But even if it wasn’t… that’s not how it has to be. It’s okay to want more, Dean. And if you found the right person and want to keep hunting or quit it or whatever, I’d back you one-hundred percent and help to make it work. You know that, right?”
Dean let out a quiet chuckle, “Didn’t seem that way when I was nuts about Sophie.”
Sam smiled, “Well, can you blame me? I was afraid you were going to elope. You were acting like a Disney princess.”
They both laughed and Dean said, “Sorry about that.” The following silence was warm, and they both seemed to know that they’d taken that first step, that something had gotten better, at least between the two of them. Dean said, “Thank you, Sam… for having my back and averting yet another apocalypse-sized mess.”
Sam shrugged, “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”
It wasn’t exactly uncommon, but Dean couldn’t help but feel so grateful for Sam at times like this. He felt a surge of affection for his brother and joked, “Guess now’s not a good time to say we should really grab a beer together?”
Sam said, “Not exactly. How’s a breakfast special sound? I’ll even eat my bacon.”
Dean smiled, “Deal.”
6 Months Later
Things had gotten better.
They were far from perfect, but things had never been close to it anyway. At the very least, they were as close to normal as anyone could have hoped for.
With Sam providing as much TLC as he was allowed, Dean was back to full-functionality. He got jobs done. He kept saving lives. He still drank, but in moderation. When Cas dropped by, he no longer turned into a nervous wreck, and their previous rapport was somewhat restored as Dean feelings waned enough for him to bury them. He still moped from time to time, but he was realistic.
It was enough, he told himself. It was like when he’d seen Cassie again, years after their break-up. Sure, things were a bit awkward at first, but in the end, even if they never grew to be more than friends, he was just glad to have him in his life. Cas was still one of the most amazing people (well, not exactly a human) he’d ever known, and… it was enough. Dean had accepted ‘enough’ in his life more times than he could count, and after everything, he could safely say that things could have ended up much worse in so many ways. He was as happy as he could be, considering all of the circumstances. So he was at least grateful for that.
One evening, after a hunt, Dean grabbed his keys and said, “Goin’ out for a drive.”
“So soon?” Sam said, “We just got back.”
Dean stopped at the door, “Yeah, well… I could use a little air.”
Sam didn’t try to stop him or get him to rest for the night. It wouldn’t work, he knew. Dean had been going for joyrides at least three nights a week since the spell transference, and lately, it seemed, he came back long before dawn instead of mid-day, and he didn’t reek of liquor. Besides, it always did Dean good to go for a ride.
“Alright,” Sam said. “Be careful.”
“Yep,” Dean said before shutting the door behind him.
It hadn’t been one of his worst days. In fact, it was the best he’d felt in ages. It didn’t mean he still didn’t feel like garbage, but he’d finally grown to tolerate it. He didn’t bother going to a bar or stopping at a liquor store. This time, he went straight for the highway, rolling the windows down to breathe in the warm summer breeze and hoping the speed would help him relax.
So he wasn’t completely over it, and he probably never would be, he knew that. But it was for the best. Just like leaving Lisa and Ben, it was the safest, most painless option for everybody. Except for Dean, of course, but he would bear the burden if it meant keeping everybody else happy. He’d done that his whole life, and he didn’t resent anybody for it. It was just a part of who he was. He couldn’t bear seeing anybody he loved suffer, so he’d take on the pain so they wouldn’t have to. And even if he struggled, it didn’t matter. In the end, he was fairly happy for it.
The truth was, he’d accepted his reality. Everybody was better off if everything stayed the same as they were before. It was enough, he thought. Just more of the same.
Besides, even if it was possible that Cas would reciprocate, feelings just seemed to complicate everything. Especially in their line of work.
It wasn’t unlike leaving behind Lisa and Ben. Yeah, it hurt like hell to have himself erased from their minds. Except for the brief period when he’d been under the cupid’s spell, he never really felt like he’d gotten over it. Maybe he had loved Lisa. Maybe it was losing the family that could have been his if hunting hadn’t thrown a wrench into it. It didn’t matter what it was. The fact of the matter was that they’d been thrown into the line of fire as bait, and Dean walked right into the fray to get them out. There were few times he’d felt that scared before. And he couldn’t risk their lives again.
He considered Cas in the same context. It’s not like he couldn’t take care of himself. But Dean had seen the angel at his most powerful and at his weakest moments. When, for whatever reason, Cas was powered down, it seemed to happen at the most dangerous time. He couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. If Cas gets a power-up, great. But it seemed every time the angel was vulnerable, something was after him. And he’d already died a couple of times. But there was no guarantee that he’d be brought back. He’d been lucky to get as many chances as he’s gotten.
Even if they stood a chance, Dean figured it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with Cas in that way. Some demon or angel or whatever would find out and use it against them one way or another. And, he had to admit, whether or not it becomes a weapon against them, if Cas were to die…
Dean couldn’t really say he’d been completely in love with someone before. He wasn’t even sure yet if that’s how he felt for Cas. But he saw how his mother’s death completely shattered his father for the rest of his life. Dean wasn’t sure he would handle a similar situation as graciously. He couldn’t even imagine it. Losing Cas… it hurt to think about. Hell, even losing him before the spell had been devastating. To this day he still had the occasional nightmare of Cas walking into a lake covered in black slime, or catching a glimpse of him through the crack in Purgatory getting torn to shreds as Dean left him behind.
It was easier this way, Dean thought. Instead of lamenting the fact that Cas would never love him, he kept telling himself how much worse it would be if he did. It wasn’t worth it, he’d convinced himself.
Even still, it was still an idea he was struggling with, and even the road couldn’t ease him. He made his way back towards the town and on the way down the mountain road he spotted an outlook. He wasn’t ready to go back to the motel to lie in bed and sit in the quiet and dark with his thoughts. So he pulled over, glad to see he was the only one in the lot at this time of night.
The town they’d been working in wasn’t too small, but from up on the mountain, Dean could see the whole thing, a spot of light surrounded by mountains and forests. It was cooler way up here, and the air smelled strongly of pine. It was refreshing and relaxing, but Dean was still battling with his mind and eventually just got out of the car to dig through the trunk for something to do.
He lifted the shelf that supported the artillery of hunting weapons he’d collected over the years to reach into the lower compartment where he and Sam kept their few personal possessions. He shoved aside Sam’s running shoes and his old, deflated soccer ball from high school that he and Sam still kicked around from time to time when the weather was nice and they’d spent too much time on the road. Digging through the relics of his past, Dean finally found what he was looking for, pulling the beaten-up, dog-eared paperback from the trunk and going back to sit in the driver’s seat.
A musty smell wafted from the pages as Dean flipped through them to find his place. He hadn’t had much time to read simply for leisure in a long time. But the week before, Dean was so desperate for something to keep his mind at bay, and he unearthed his copy of On The Road for the first time in years, lulling himself into a temporary sense of tranquility at the words that were still familiar from having read them so many times before.
He remembered when he’d first read it, way back in his last year of high school when a particularly intuitive teacher recommended it to him. He’d almost considered it like a bible. The words spoke of a life on the road with such genuine passion for it, it was like he’d met the literary equivalent of his soul mate. Not only that, but he thought it was pretty cool to share a name with such a kickass character.
Reading the familiar pages brought him back to youth, in a way, far from the tragedy and hardship he’d found himself in since. In hindsight, his life hadn’t been that great when he was a teenager, and he’d struggled through those years. But he’d believed he was happy then, having his family always nearby, driving around in the Impala, occasionally participating in hunting that gave him a genuine sense of accomplishment when he’d managed to save somebody’s life. Sure, it was tough, but his youthful, idealistic self didn’t realize it at the time, and that’s all that mattered as he settled into a nostalgic trance within the pages.
He’d only been reading a few minutes when he reached the line:
“Dean was happy. All he needed was a wheel in his hand and four on the road.”
Dean smiled at the line, but it faded quickly. Those words used to apply to him, too. It’s one of the reasons he loved the book so much. This character, who wasn’t all that different from him in a lot of ways yet expressed himself in ways Dean had never allowed himself to, the spirit of wanderlust that dripped from the pages, written in a way Dean knew was genuine because that very same spirit lived in him once too, rang true in his own heart.
For a couple of years after he’d first read the book, it was that line that often whispered in the back of his mind, that kept him going. When things got bad, all he needed was some time with his baby to cheer himself up.
He’d forgotten that when things completely went to shit. When his dad died. When he sold his soul. When he returned from hell. But even when he could no longer remember the words, it didn’t stop applying to him. He still loved the road and his car. They still provided a release for him, made him calm in a way little else could.
Dean wondered when that stopped being true.
He caught himself wallowing in self-pity and heartache again, so he shook himself out of it, trying to get back to his reading because he was just so tired of thinking. He didn’t get very far when something outside moved and caught his eye, and he sucked in a breath.
Cas stood outside, stoic as ever. Dean chest tightened in actual pain, but he didn’t let that on when Cas surprised Dean by not teleporting, instead choosing to open the passenger side door and ask, “Can I sit?”
Dean shut his book and said as calmly as he could, “Sure.”
The door squeaked shut behind Cas, who shifted in his seat. They sat in a loaded silence for a moment before Dean asked, “How did you find me?”
“I called Sam,” Cas said. “He said you’d gone out and it only took a brief search of the town to spot the Impala.”
“Okay. Why were you looking for me?” Dean waited for Cas to start reeling off the details of some suspicious activity that required their attention, already bracing himself for the disappointment he felt ridiculous for feeling.
So he’s surprised when Cas says, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
And it hurts ten times more than if he’d just given him another case. Dean knew Cas was just being friendly, but his body responded as if Cas just admitted he’d felt the same way as he did all along, his heart thrumming in his chest at the sign that Cas even cared. He managed to say, “I’m fine.” He casted a side-long glance at Cas before averting his gaze, “As fine as I can be anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Dean rolled his eyes, “You really need me to spell it out for you?” At Cas’ clueless expression, which was painfully endearing, Dean said flatly, “Look, I know what’s in the cards for me. And I know that they don’t include you. Not the way I want you, anyway. But I’m not going to be bitter about it. So I’m trying to put this all behind me.” He let out a hollow laugh, “Things are probably gonna be awkward between us from now on… I’m ready to deal with that.” At least, he was ready to give it a shot. But he didn’t say so.
Cas had softened, watching Dean who refused to look back. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry there was no easier way to remove the spell.”
Dean scoffed, “It’s alright. One of the hazards of the job, right? Comes with the territory.” And he meant those words. He knew that with the life he lived, getting hurt, cursed, or falling under a spell was always a risk. He was lucky he walked away with only a broken heart.
Cas did the best he could to help him. Hell, Cas was always helping him, even if it meant throwing himself in the line of fire for him. He owed it to the guy to be grateful for whatever help he got, and he’d handle the repercussions of it without complaining too much.
Dean shrugged, “I’m just glad you didn’t leave me stuck like that. And Sophie. You really did us a favor.” He chuckled without mirth as he added, “I mean, how many times have you stopped fate in its tracks for me?”
Cas cleared his throat and said, “That’s… that’s actually what I came here to talk about.”
Dean frowned, “What do you mean?”
Cas didn’t answer. He only reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out his cellphone. Dean was reminded of just how long Castiel had been on Earth when the angel deftly tapped away at the phone. He took the phone when Cas handed it to him with only the word, “Listen.”
Dean waited as Cas’ phone introduced a voicemail that had been saved for six months, and then with a crackle, he heard his own voice on the line, “Hey, Cas. Wanted to see if you could do a fly-by, but it looks like you’re busy.” Dean sat, frozen. His voice was slurred and miserable, and he doesn’t remember saying any of this.
The message continues, “I wanted to see you. God, I can’t stand seeing you when I know you don’t want me, but… I guess I don’t know what’s good for me. I just… I love you, Cas.” The voice on the line started to crack, “I don’t know when it started, but I love you. Before the transfer, before I ever got mixed up in this stupid cupid business… I just never had the guts to admit it, not even to myself. I was too stupid and too scared to do anything about it. Maybe this is what I needed to finally realize that you’re more than just my friend, my family… So much more than that, for a while now. I still don't know what this is. We don't exactly have a normal relationship... But I know it’ll never work, that I’ll never have you. But I just needed to say that before I chicken out again.”
The message cut out and Dean slowly lowered the phone, aware that his hands were shaking and his face was flushed. His memory of leaving that message had been completely wiped out, likely because of all the drinking he’d done back then. He started, “Cas, I-”
“Dean,” Cas interrupted. Dean looked at him, a helpless expression on his face. Cas frowned, his default look of confusion making it clear he wasn't sure of how to phrase what he wanted to say, "Dean... I wanted to wait until I was sure you’d had enough time to have a clear head before I asked...Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Did you love me before I transferred the mark to myself?”
Dean stared at his hands in his lap and said nervously, “I dunno, Cas. I mean, you heard what I said. I don’t know what this is anyway.” They’re silent for a while before Dean shifts to face Cas, suddenly steeled in anger, “What does it matter, anyway? Why do you even care?”
“Dean, what are you-”
“Did you just come here to humiliate me? Having me fall for you wasn’t enough, you just had to go and tear me apart? Finally getting even for all the shit you went through because of me? Like I don’t already feel like shit.”
Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion, “Getting even? Dean, I don’t blame you for anything. If you would just listen-”
But Dean wasn’t having any of it as he continued his tirade, a little softer and honest in a way he hadn’t been for years, “Fine. Maybe I knew there was something there. I didn’t act on it. There was no point anyway. What good would it have done either of us but make us vulnerable? Like I haven’t been manipulated enough to keep Sam safe. And even if I wanted it, it’s not like you ever would. So why should I bother?”
Dean was out of breath, his heart racing as he’d confessed, and he waited in anticipation for a cloud of rejection to sweep him away yet again.
Cas, after a heavy pause, said, “I’m sorry. I’m… I’m still not familiar with the spectrum of human emotion. I don’t understand it and I didn’t see what was happening.”
Dean scoffed, tired of fighting, of everything, but he still had his pride, “Yeah, well don’t worry about being a crutch for me. That’s the last thing I want.”
“That’s not it. It’s me that I don’t understand, what I’m feeling.”
Dean stared at Cas, perplexed, “Wait, what?”
Cas said with a hint of urgency in his voice, willing Dean to understand, “Why do you think I took all of those risks for you? Died to help you on more than one occasion? Why did I rebel and turn on the family I’d been loyal to since creation?”
Dean muttered almost inaudibly, “What are you saying?”
“I didn’t understand it at first,” Cas explained, “why I was so drawn to you since I first raised you from hell. Why it only seemed to make it harder to do things that used to come to me so easily, the things I’d been made to believe were just. But now… Now I think I may have an idea of what it might be.”
“Stop,” Dean said quietly, “Just stop.” The conversation had suddenly veered off course into territory Dean was completely unprepared for, “Cas, I know we’ve been through a hell of a lot together, there’s no denying that. But there’s a difference between trusting someone and… and loving them.”
“I know,” Cas said. “There are very few who I can say that I trust. I trusted Bobby. I trust Sam. I know what that feels like. But this, what I feel for you, this is different. It’s more.”
Dean swallowed the knot in his throat, having all but completely stopped breathing. He was afraid to let himself believe what was happening. With his luck, he was dreaming, or suffering from some djinn-induced hallucination.
“I need you, Dean.” Cas offered a small smile, “I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.”
Dean turned his head to look out of the window, running a hand over his face as he croaked out, “You don’t have to do this, Cas. I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity that I feel for you, Dean.”
Cas rested a hand on Dean’s arm, the same place he’d touched him for the first time and pulled him out of that void of pain and destruction, and Dean nearly jumped from some spark that seemed to ignite inside of him at the contact. “Cas…” he whispered as he found himself inching closer.
Cas closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that was comparable to two stars colliding considering the force with which it seemed to redefine everything that they were to each other in that fleeting moment.
They parted, still only a breath away from each other when Cas asked, “So, what happens now?”
Dean, still dazed, said softly, “I dunno. Didn’t expect to get this far.”
Cas looked up to his eyes and narrowed his own in contemplation, “Maybe you were right, that this is a bad idea.”
Dean stared blankly at him for a moment before a small smile broke out on his face, “Shut it, Cas. Like I’ve ever been one for good ideas. C’mere.”