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“Cas,” Dean calls, poking his head into the other room.
Cas startles, pulling away from his book as if he’s been scolded. Which, Dean admits, he kind of has been. Nonverbally.
Dean forces his features to soften, ironing out the creases of stress around his eyes and on his forehead. “Can we talk?” he asks.
Cas gives a stiff nod and follows him, away from the crowd of nosy hunters, who look at them unabashedly as they exit.
It’s difficult to not take his confusion and fear out on Cas. He isn’t mad at Cas, not really, but the shock from Cas’s decision a few hours earlier has left him reeling.
His actions could easily be interpreted as anger. How many times has Dean used the silent treatment on Cas when Cas did something that Dean didn’t agree with?
That’s not what’s happening here, not this time; Dean needed time and space to process the enormity of what Cas is going to do. He needed to talk it through with Sam, who can read Dean’s emotions better than Dean himself can sometimes. And he needed to build up the courage to actually hear Cas’s side of it.
Still, he knows how it looks. It looks like the silent treatment.
Sam had been the one to encourage Dean that they talk it through as a group. “Don’t you want to hear Cas’s side of it before he gives up his grace?”
Honestly, no. He’d rather that Cas not give up his grace at all.
But they are past the point in their relationship where Dean will make decisions for Cas, or tell him what he can and can’t do. He’s not going to go back to that, and he certainly doesn’t want to lose Cas through his stubbornness. Not when they’re so close to finally being safe and, dare he say it, happy.
So Dean pulls out Cas’s chair as a sort of olive branch, and he puts as much of a smile as he can on his face, even though his insides are twisting around like snakes inside of him.
Sam and Cas look at him expectantly. He sighs. Of course, since he’s the one who has an issue with Cas giving up his grace, he has to be the one to start the conversation.
He looks at Sam and tries to remember everything he’s been told: “Don’t accuse. Don’t act like he’s wrong. If you really want to know, be kind, and ask.”
Dean clears his throat. “Okay. Cas.” He lets out a breath, trying to release any expression that could be an indication of hostility. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But I do have to say this: on the road so far, we have dealt with a lot of shit. And the solution hasn’t always been easy. But I think we’ve learned,” he continues, gesturing around the circle, “that there’s always a better way. You don’t need to do something as drastic as this,” he says, leaning forward to grasp Cas’s hand, slightly pleased that Cas allows him to do so. “You don’t have to —”
“I know I don’t have to,” he cuts in, squeezing Dean’s hand.
Sam jumps to Dean’s aid, even though he’s far more neutral on the issue. “What Dean means, Cas, is that this is a very brave and kind thing to do. But the sacrifice doesn’t have to be on you. We can find another angel. We can—”
“Sam, I know,” Cas insists. “I know there’s another way. When I say I want to do this, I mean that I want to do this.”
Even Sam seems to find himself just as wordless as Dean. The pair of them gape like fish. At least, that’s the image that pops into Dean’s mind as he glances over and sees Sam’s dropped jaw.
He finally wills himself to speak, stammering out, “You — you want to give up your grace? You want to be human?”
“Yes,” Cas says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“But,” Dean flounders. He’s unable to stop himself from breaking some of Sam’s rules. “Cas, I’m sorry, but you hated being human. You really expect me to believe that you’re okay with this? No, I can’t accept that. I can’t — I won’t —” He stops himself short of telling Cas, in no uncertain terms, that he will not give up his grace, but the words are still there, simmering under the surface.
But Cas, ever forgiving, only looks at Dean with a soft, patient smile. “I hated being human because it made me powerless at a time that I needed to be more than that. Sam was sick, the angels were fallen… and in my mind, it was all my fault.”
Dean tries to protest, but Cas cuts back in.
“I know now it wasn’t, not entirely, but at the time, there was nothing I wanted to do more than atone for my sins by making it right. But mostly, I hated being human because I wasn’t with you.”
Endless guilt floods over Dean for how he did both Sam and Cas wrong during that time, only several years ago, now that he thinks about it. Suddenly his mind is playing a tape of Dean’s Shittiest Hits.
Evidently, Cas can read the grief painted on his face because he reassures, “Dean, please don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s in the past. I think we all moved on from it a long time ago.”
Sam nods. “You know that neither of us agree with what you did, but it’s long forgiven.”
Dean purses his lips and does his best to push the unpleasant memories out of his mind. The pain still lingers, panging at his heart in sharp little beats, but for the most part, he’s able to clear his head enough to focus on the conversation at hand.
“Cas…” he says. “I just don’t want you to have to give up what makes you you.”
For the first time, Cas looks upset at Dean’s words. “My grace is not me,” he says sharply, pulling his hand out of Dean’s grasp. “Is that really all you see, Dean? An angel, nothing more?”
“What? No!” Dean exclaims. “It’s not about me Cas, I will — I will love you no matter what,” he stumbles, very aware of the weight of Sam’s eyes. “But I don’t want you to give away your identity. For me or anyone else.”
Cas seems to cool a bit, even looking a bit apologetic for his outburst. “Once, you may have been right about my angelic status being my identity. At one time, it was all I knew. But think of how much we’ve been through together. All three of us,” he says, looking to Sam. “You two, and Jack, you’re my family. You have shaped me into what I am today.
“As far as I’m concerned, every step I’ve taken away from angel is an improvement. But even more than that,” he continues, eyes pleading, “I want to be human. Dean, how do you think I feel knowing that one day you will die, and I’ll be left without you for millennia, until the end of time?”
Dean swallows. Cas may not realize, but he has thought extensively on the subject. It’s one of the big ones that keeps him awake at night.
Cas sighs. “I don’t want that. Especially not now, not when we’ve finally figured ourselves out.” He reaches out and takes Dean’s hands, warmth filling his palms once more. “I want to live a human life with you, Dean. I want to grow old with you, and when our time comes, die with you, too.”
A flood of something heavy, but comforting, fills Dean’s heart. He feels as if his chest may burst open, but it’s an oddly wonderful feeling.
“I want that too, Cas,” he manages to say. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
Only the tiniest bit of doubt still lingers in the corner of Dean’s mind. “You’re absolutely sure? I mean, the road so far —”
“The road so far is full of times I cherish,” Cas interjects, “but I’m much more interested in the road ahead.”