Chapter Text
Dean slammed his shoulder into the door, attempting to force it open. After the frustration if tailing an elusive witch for two days, he mostly just wanted this hunt to be over. But, he also could not stand waking up in a shitty motel room bed to find that Cas had been watching him all night.
The mildly comforting thought of Cas making sure he was okay was dampened by the fact that, one, that was kind of creepy, and two, the fact that Cas was newly human and should have be sleeping. Dean would never admit that the thought was comforting though, so when he caught Cas doing it for the second time, he focused on the reasons why Cas shouldn't be.
Cas, newly fallen and horrible at getting a human amount of sleep, apparently, was lagging behind Dean in the hallway out of sheer exhaustion. The heavy outfit from before he fell (that he absolutely refused to take off) couldn't be aiding in the free movement he was going for. He was also holding his gun wrong, but Dean didn't have the time to address all of that, because that was the moment the door decided to give.
Dean barrelled into the witch's apartment, gun raised and not at all dwelling on the bone-weary look in Castiel's eyes as he stepped up next to him. Okay, maybe he was dwelling a little bit, but only because he was concerned for the guy. He knew Cas was unhappy with being a human, and felt like he was useless to the Winchester brothers without his powers. This hunt was supposed to ease his mind, and to prove that Dean didn't keep him around just for his 'angel mojo'. That they were friends. And so far it had proved that Cas was more than just a flash-medic on wings, but it had not resolved the fact that Cas had no idea how to function as a human.
Even though Cas was tired and achy from the normal human experience -or as normal as one can get around Sam and Dean- he still managed to shoot the witch killing bullets in his gun in the vague direction of the short, mousey haired witch. She was pouring intently over what looked to be a spell book, but the sound of gunfire quickly caught her attention. Dean was closer to the mark with his bullets, though she let out a yell and ducked at the last second, throwing her book at Dean's head before she darted off down a hallway. Cas attempted to run after her, but she quickly spit out a few phrases in Latin before making a hasty exit out the window, clanging down the fire escape and into the street below.
Cas took all of three steps towards the window before the spell seemed to hit him, and he sunk to his knees with a sharp groan. He curled in on himself, clawing at his chest. Dean caught up with Cas, and was able to hold him up before he pitched to the side. He quickly dropped to his knees in front of Cas, a panicked look in his eyes at the pain Cas was clearly experiencing.
"Cas, buddy, what's wrong? That bitch cast a spell, didn't she?" He asked earnestly. The only response he got was another strangled groan, from the folded over body in front of him. Dean reached up and cradled Cas's face in his hand. Cas leaned into the touch and unclenched his muscles a little from where they had been seizing up. He pushed his face into Dean's hand and placed his own hand over Dean's to keep it there. Dean widened his eyes in shock and attempted to move his hand out of Cas's grip. The second his hand left Cas's skin altogether, Cas flinched and screwed his eyes shut in pain.
"Dean," Cas said, voice rough and strained from the pain that was trying to claw his way out of his chest, "I'm sorry. I let her get away. You should go after her. I'll be okay."
"Dude, no way," Dean replied, "You're hurt, or cursed, or whatever. We can gank her some other time. Right now we gotta find a way to help you." He tried to pull Cas to his feet, but every time he did Cas just slumped back to the ground, and Dean couldn't support his full weight by himself. Dean may have a couple inches of height on him, but the dude was heavy. After the third try, Cas had just collapsed on his side, face smushed into the floor.
"Come on, dude, you gotta get up. I'll basically carry you if you can stand, but I can't lift you." He extended his hand, and Cas looked pained as he weakly reached up to grasp it. As soon as their skin touched, the pain in Cas's chest eased, and he let out a gasp of relief, air he didn't know he had been holding. Gratefully, Dean pulled him up, wrapping a flannel-clad arm around Cas's waist. Cas caved into Dean's side, going limp as Dean let go of his hand.
"Alright dude, let's get back to the bunker. We clearly need to find out what the hell this curse is before we go chasing that witch again." Cas nodded weakly at Dean's words, now in to much pain to protest that Dean should find her regardless of his state. It felt like his chest was collapsing in on itself, his ribs cracking and lungs puncturing. But, when he placed his hand on his chest, he found a very uncollapsed ribcage, though every time he breathed it did feel like a thousand knives.
Cas's breathing was getting more pained by the minute as Dean lugged him to the Impala. Dean fumbled open the passenger's side door with one hand, and then guided Cas into sitting down. Cas attempted to buckle the seatbelt himself, but kept missing the buckle as his vision blurred. Dean reached over and took the buckle from Cas and secured it himself. As their hands touched momentarily, Cas sighed in relief, no longer on the brink of fading into unconsciousness.
"Hey, that wasn't so bad, right?" Dean said, still looking very concerned despite his words. He patted the side of Cas's head, ruffling his hair a little, and Cas leaned into his touch very heavily before Dean pulled away and closed the door gently. Dean plopped down in the driver's seat a moment later, and fell into the routine of starting up the car and pulling out of the small apartment block's parking lot.
During the drive back to the motel, Dean glanced over at Cas about every five seconds. He was worried about the guy, sue him. Cas had taken a hit, becoming human, and now who knew what kind of curse had hit him?
All Dean knew was that Cas leaned into his touch a little more than usual, and that Cas was in a lot of pain right now. Cas let out a particularly loud groan, and Dean placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to steady both Cas and himself. To reassure himself that Cas was still there, was not going to die on his watch.
The hard lines of pain in Cas's face softened, and his hand came up to press insistently over Dean's when Dean tried to pull it away. Cas breathed out a relieved sigh and smiled softly.
"Uhh... dude?" Dean questioned, his voice a little higher out of nerves, "can I have my hand back? I kinda need it to, y'know... drive." Cas grimaced in response, clutching Dean's hand ever so slightly tighter before letting go. He curled up facing the window and muffled his sounds of pain until they reached the motel fifteen minutes later.
Dean exited the car, the harsh bang of the car door jarring Castiel out of his pain-induced stupor. The door to his right that he had been leaning against opened, causing him to tip a little before correcting himself. Dean reached out his hand.
"Okay, Cas, let's get you inside. Give me your hand. Okay, good, now... yeah, over my shoulder. Good job, bud," Dean spoke comfortingly as he got Cas arranged. Cas's right arm was draped over Dean's shoulders and Dean's arm was wrapped around Cas's waist in a feeble attempt to keep Cas upright. They were pressed together from hip to shoulder, and Cas heaved a sigh, breath shaking its way out of paper lungs.
Dean lugged Cas up to the motel room door, fumbled for the key, and then unceremoniously shoved it into the lock. The door swung open, and Dean and Cas hobbled over to Cas's bed and Dean gently lowered him down into a sitting position. He sat down heavily on the bed next to Cas's and leaned forward. Cas huffed and fell backwards so his top half was laying on the bed and his feet were steady on the floor. He pressed his hands over his eyes, digging into his sockets to try and get rid of the head-pierced-by-a-railroad-spike feeling.
"Okay, Cas. Do you have any idea what the curse is, now that you've been stuck with it for a while?" Dean said, trying to get right to a way to help Cas.
"You're not going to like it."
"Come on, Cas, I can handle it. Lay it on me," Dean replied a little indignantly.
"Fine. When the curse hit me, it was like I was being stabbed in the chest with a thousand white-hot pieces of glass. Then, you ran over to make sure I was okay, and you touched me, and it was like cool water instead of searing heat. It was good. I was fine again. And then your hand dropped and it was back to white-hot glass. When you were carrying me into the room, that was even better. Nothing hurt, and I felt... safe. That is probably the best way to describe it, yes," Cas finished, breathing out slowly and evenly in a controlled way. He sat up to see Dean's reaction, looking like he was bracing for impact.
"... Oh," Dean said, reaching out to Cas and placing a hand on his knee. Now that he knew what made Cas okay again, it was a simple fix, "Okay. Well, if I just need to touch you, I guess I'll just keep my hand glued to your shoulder or arm or something, until we can find and gank that damn witch. It'll be a little harder to fight, but it won't be too much of a problem."
Dean smiled a little, and Cas breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Okay. But, Dean, if you just touch my shoulder, I still won't be able to fight properly," Cas's forehead bunched up as he spoke, "When you touched my face, without any fabric in the way, my head was clearest."
"Oh, okay. Well, if you get out of that holy tax accountant trench coat and suit jacket, then you can roll up your sleeves and I can hold your arm. That would be better, right?" Dean said, squeezing Cas's knee little, trying to be reassuring.
"To make it easier, you could simply hold my hand. It's skin to skin, and it gives you more freedom to fight with," Cas stated, tilting his head towards the hunter slightly. He was making what he knew was a good point, but he doubted Dean would accept nevertheless. He hoped Dean would.
"Oh. Uuhh." Dean looked a little flustered, but he was thinking it over. He apparently decided that it was the best option, and picked his hand up off of Cas's knee to take his hand. He gave it a squeeze, which Cas took as permission to interlace their fingers. Dean privately decided this wasn't half bad, and if it helped Cas, why couldn't he enjoy it? Even if it was only because of the curse. He knew Cas would never want to hold hands with him otherwise. He had long accepted that Cas simply didn't love Dean like Dean loved Cas.
By this time Cas was looking content, not in pain anymore. Dean was just grateful to get that horrible, twisted expression off Cas's face any way he was able to. Cas was staring intently at Dean. He was in a state of mild shock that Dean not only held his hand when Cas asked, but didn't pull away when Cas held on tighter. It gave Cas a little hope that he felt he should not have. Why should he, after all these years? Dean had never seemed to harbor any romantic feelings for him as far as he could tell, but it was all the little moments like this that made Cas stop and think.
"Well, let's get started on breaking this curse so that we can kill that bitch of a witch." Dean gave Cas's hand a light squeeze and smiled carefully at him.