Archive of Our Own

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up from where he'd been reading - or rather staring blankly at his book and not even noticing. That fact confuses him enough that he doesn't quite manage to rip his eyes away, turning over a page forward and then backward instead. None of this looks familiar. "Of course."

Cas sighs, his tone becoming more persistent when he repeats, “Dean.”

This time, Dean looks up. Or rather, his body does it for him. It confuses Dean again. It’s rare that his body takes anything Cas says as an order. Was it an order? Dean’s not quite sure. “Yes?” he asks. 

He notices belatedly how short that sounded. It’s only the way Cas’ brows knit together that clues him in. 

So Dean hurries to belatedly attach a fleeting smile, one that he hopes comes over as warm and friendly even though he can’t keep it up. He rustles around as if to make some space on the couch, though it's an empty gesture because he's already sitting crouched at one end, the armrest digging into his back. He hadn't really noticed it so far, but now that he’s moving, the position is decidedly uncomfortable. There’s a rib stabbing him, too. How long has that been out?  

Dean tries to banish the pain to the back of his mind because Cas’ face is still tense when he sits, his eyes not leaving Dean for a moment. It feels invasive, somehow, even though Cas is never shy about keeping eye-contact. But right now, it feels like a lot. So Dean moves backwards again, the armrest heavy and unyielding behind him, Dean’s back not happy when he pushes back up against it. 

Cas is still just staring and it makes Dean fidget. He puts his finger between the pages, then thinks better of it and opens the book back up to put his bookmark in. The activity gives him a welcome escape from having to look at Cas, but it doesn’t last. 

There are warm hands on his suddenly, Cas gently taking the book out of his hands and putting it on the side-table. Now Dean has no idea anymore what to do with his hands, so he knots them together in his lap and stares down at them. 

Cas watches him for another long moment, the clock on the mantelpiece ticking away the seconds, before he finally says, “Talk to me, Dean.”

Immediately, the knot in Dean’s stomach grows bigger. “About what?” he asks, but his own dread tells him that he knows what Cas wants to know. 

“You’ve not been yourself ever since I came back from that latest trip to California. That is, maybe even since before that. Since Mary's birthday party? I want to know what’s wrong.”

Dean shakes his head, though he knows the words and gesture will fall empty as long as he still doesn’t manage to look Cas in the eye. “‘S nothing. I’m fine.”

Cas’ voice is patient but sure when he answers, “No. You’re not fine.”

Dean shrugs, because okay maybe he’s not fine, but, “It’s okay. It really is. Just tired. I should go look after the pups.”

He doesn’t even manage to rise halfway up from where he was crouched, though, before Cas’ hand locks around his wrist. And it is a lock, a firm hold that doesn’t give when Dean experimentally tugs at it. Not that he tugs very hard. If he actually fought, Cas would let go. Dean’s not sure that that is what he really wants, though. So he kind of hovers and waits. 

When Dean stays still, the pressure on his wrist decreases, Cas’ hold turning lighter. He keeps the connection, though. “You don’t have to talk to me, if it’s not something you want to or can share with me. But then you make an appointment with Pam.”

“What?” It’s surprise more than anything that makes his eyes flicker up to Cas’.

Cas’ face is apologetic, but his voice stays firm. “If you can make a convincing case for rather talking to your brother, that might also be an option. But Dean, I’ve watched this for over a month and it can’t go on like this. I’d rather you allow me to take care of you, but if you don’t, I will insist.”

A zing of sparks burns through Dean’s guts, maybe originating from that knot of dread, maybe from somewhere deeper. It confuses him again, because it’s hot and cold and it feels alive, but it doesn’t necessarily feel good. So maybe he wants to run from it or maybe he wants to collapse into it, but forwards and backwards doesn't work at the same time, so he stays in place and says nothing. 

"I'm worried," Cas admits. "Very worried, to be honest. I've known you upset and mad at me and even scared of me. But you've never closed yourself off from me this much for this long, not even back when - in the time before the twins were born."

Dean looks at his hands again. Racks his brain for something to say. He loves Cas. Loves him as much as he always has. But he still doesn’t know anything to say. "'S not you," is all that manages to make it past his lips. 

"I know," Cas answers on a long exhale. "Believe me when I say that I wouldn't be this calm - or in fact, functioning at all if that was different."

It's then that Dean looks at Cas. Really looks at him. Sees the dark shadows under his eyes. The new grey in his beard stubble. The way the bright blue of his eyes is dimmed. 

He turns away again. “‘M sorry.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper. 

“No, Dean, no.” Cas is immediately there, inserting himself fully into Dean’s space, warm hands finding Dean’s face, running along the line of Dean’s jaw. “I’m not here to make you feel worse! I’m asking you to please let me help. Please let me help, Dean.”

It's so raw, so pleading, that it pings something in Dean’s heart. Some place that pulls at him and that is impossible to resist. Only, “I don’t know how,” he whispers. 

It sounds defeated to his own ears, but not to Cas’, apparently, because there’s something hopeful in his voice when he answers, “You could start by telling me what’s going on.”

But that’s just it. Dean helplessly shakes his head.

“You don’t want to or you can’t?” Cas asks, voice carefully crafted to keep his emotions out of it. Even his scent gets dimmer. Like Cas purposefully takes himself out of the equation. Or like his focus is on Dean and Dean only, no strings attached. It feels wrong. 

“It’s like,” Dean makes a vague gesture. But that doesn’t make any words appear, either. “‘M sorry,” he mutters. “Wanna be good.” Because he does. He keeps it together best as he can for the pups, even though some days he dreads every interaction. But somehow he manages to get through those days as well. Mary is a little clingier then, a little harder to put down at bedtime. He doesn't like it and tries harder to make sure she knows she is loved and does not have to worry the next day. 

Only then, when it’s the end of that day  as well and the pups are tuckered out from their adventures, there’s not much left of him. Like he's used up all of himself and left a shell that walks around like him, but is empty on the inside. There is a lot of emptiness lately. 

“Does it have anything to do with Michael?” Cas probes softly.

The name produces a knot of its own in his stomach. But it feels white-hot like an echo of anger where everything else is subdued. They let Michael out on bail while the court case gets delayed and delayed.  It means that security at the pack is permanently on high alert. It  also means that Cas has to fly to California on a semi-regular basis. It means that Sam and Eileen are still stationed down there, too, because Sam fears that the judicial department will drag its feet until all eternity because they don’t want to try a high-profile Alpha-lawyer in a case that might actually get him convicted. 

But Cas knows as well as Dean that they’ve been through bullshit like this before. There’s the restraining order, which is still in place, and Michael has not managed to get the courts to give Adam back to him. That’s all good news, really. Or at least not terrible news. For all the difference that it makes.

“Are you worried he might try to do something to our family?” Cas asks. “It’d be a very valid worry.”

Dean shakes his head. “We have a good Alpha to protect us.”

He means it, too. Cas is the Alpha everyone would want by their side in a situation like this. But it’s not the right thing to say, because Cas’ scent only gets more worried. 

“Normally, we protect this family together,” he points out softly.

And oh. Yeah. There’s that. “Guess I’m failing you then.” It’s back to a whisper, the feeling too close to the ball of dread in his stomach even when it shouldn’t be anything new. Dean’s always been a failure, never mind how much he’s struggled to change that. And even now, even here, even with all the resources and all the love at his disposal...

“You’re not failing me,” Cas answers with emphasis. “But I am worried. This is not a dynamic that we have usually and I’ve learned that it’s never a good sign when it crops up.”

There really isn't anything Dean knows to answer to that. When have words become so difficult? 

"Then of course, it's no wonder you don't feel up to protecting anyone, seeing how exhausted you must be, since you don't sleep," Cas continues levelly.

Dean swallows. "You've noticed?" he asks. 

Cas nods. 

"The babies…" Dean tries, though he doesn't get far. 

"Sleep more than you do. And when they wake up at night you're always the first to get up - because you're already awake. And then you stay awake for hours after."

There is no use in refuting that. "I'm sorry. I always try not to wake you."

"I know," Cas nods. "But you're my mate, Dean. Remember how we’ve talked about that? I can't not notice when something is wrong."

Because his Alpha-side pushes at him to fix things the moment they drift apart. Which, now that Dean frames it like this, maybe today is not Cas' first attempt at trying to do just that. The pit in Dean's stomach opens a little wider. He's still not sure that it can win against the exhaustion, though. 

"Please, Dean," Cas asks quietly. "I'll do anything to help. Anything at all."

Dean doesn't doubt that. Cas would give his right hand for Dean and the kids. Hell, he'd give his life, too. The same way Dean would. Only it seems right now that Dean doesn't have enough life to give. 

"It's like - like I have a really hard time even being here." He shrugs helplessly. 

"Here?" Cas asks. "Like here with me or here in this house?"

Cas hides the spike of hurt in his scent well enough, but it still tastes like vinegar in Dean's mouth. 

"No, not…" He breaks off, words failing him again. "More like, like everything is vague. Like mist. Hard to grasp. Like, it just disappears when I want to grab it."

"What is it that disappears? Humans?"

Dean shrugs. "Humans. Connections. Words. Myself."

"Is it like - do you see yourself from the outside sometimes? Like you're not connected to your own body?"

Dean hesitates. 

"It's not bad if you do," Cas hurries to assure. 

"What does it mean?" Dean asks cautiously.

"The way you describe it? I'd say it is a thing called dissociation. It is an aftereffect of trauma sometimes."

"Is it something they'd lock a person away for?" 

"What? No! Of course not!" Immediately, Cas grabs Dean's hands tightly. 

"I keep myself together around the pups. I make sure they're safe." 

"Dean," and now Cas'hand is cupping Dean's face and he brings them close, though at the last moment he changes direction and instead of reeling Dean in for a kiss, rests their foreheads together. "I know. You're a great father and there are no doubts about your capabilities. But you're spending all of your energy on others and you're leaving none for yourself. Sometimes it feels like instead of seeing you, all I see is a functioning machine. And I don't want that. For either of us."

“It’s just…” His throat locks up. 

“What is it, Dean?” Cas says softly, his mouth so close that Dean feels the air move with the words. 

“It’s just - she’s so much like me.” It comes out as a whisper. 

It takes a moment. Then Cas lets out a long breath like suddenly things make sense to him. “Our daughter.” He moves away a few inches. “She’s three now,” he states.

Dean nods, though he doesn’t meet Cas’ eye. His mouth is dry.

“Almost the age you were when your mo…”

“Yes,” Dean interrupts quickly before Cas can say the rest of it out loud. 

“And she’s at the age where most people form their first memories that stay with them.” Cas makes his voice very low and soothing. “Have any more memories come back to you?”

The question trips Dean up, though it should be easy to answer. It’s a simple yes or no question after all. Only, “How do I even know? That something - that it’s a real memory? That it’s not just my brain being broken?”

“What does your psych class tell you about that?” Cas asks back.

“It’s been argued in a lot of law cases. That it’s false memories.”

“Hmm,” Cas humms noncommittally. “That’s what Sam might say. But would Rowena agree?”

Dean hasn’t had much energy lately to think about either his studies or Rowena or any of his other professors. Still, it’s Cas who’s asking so he makes the effort and tries to remember what his classes had to say. “There’s a recovered-memory therapy thing, where someone can make you believe in shit that they want you to believe.”

“But you’ve not been talking to anyone about this,” Cas points out. “Not that I’d know anyone who would have an interest in giving you false memories.”

Dean nods, because that’s true. “I guess, Rowena said that it can happen, especially with early memories. Though they get distorted, sometimes. Like, kids might make up a monster when it was their dad who came into their room or something.”

“Do you have memories of monsters?” Cas asks carefully.

Dean shakes his head, but it immediately feels like a lie and he stops. “ I don't - There’s something…” He breaks off again. 

“Something?” Cas pushes gently. 

“‘S gonna sound insane.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“‘S like there’s this - monster," and now that he says it the word seems to fit,  "standing over Sammy’s crib. It’s like he’s a man but also not quite. And it’s - I can’t describe it. It's like - evil. Like there’s pure evil in the room.” 

“Do you think he could be someone you know?”

Dean shakes his head. “‘S not my dad or something. Not Cain, either. But I think…” He stops again because trying to say it out loud it all seems so absurd. But he’s come this far. “I think my mom’s there, too. I dunno.” He shakes his head. “The picture is hazy and I can’t get it to clear up. Fuck, this all sounds so crazy.” He leans out of Cas’s space and rubs a hand over his face. “I need to get out of my head. I’ll be better, Cas.”

“I don’t know,” Cas shakes his head. “I could be completely off, but it seems to me that even talking about this a little bit with me just now has made you be here much more than anything else in the past month. It seems to me that it is worth the try to talk about it some more.”

Dean grimaces. 

“You have been trying to put the memories back into their box without looking at them until now, haven’t you?”

Dean shrugs. 

“Has it worked?”

There isn’t even a need to answer that. 

“So maybe instead of trying to repress what’s coming up, it would be more helpful to try to look at it.”

It sounds reasonable, the way Cas says it. Only, “Hurts a lot.”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “I know.” He holds out a hand again for Dean to take and this time, Dean takes it. “I can’t make it stop hurting, either. The only thing I can do is be here for you. To bear the pain and the fear with you until you can make it stop hurting. I promise you that you don’t have to go through any of it on your own.”

And yeah, Dean knows that, but, “What if I lose my grip on reality?”

“You won’t.” 

“You can’t know that. 'S already so hard, staying here with you and the kids.”

"I've known you for a long time, Dean. I would say that I'm probably the person who knows you best. So I feel confident in my assessment. I know that you can do this."

Dean nods because it is easier than disagreeing. Especially since the monster is still in his head and it takes up a lot of space. "His eyes are a bright yellow. The monster's. In the picture in my head. And my mom…" He shakes his head. "I dunno."

Cas takes the change of topic in stride. "Do you think she knows him?"

Dean nods again. "Yeah. Don't think he's a close friend or anything. But yeah." He shudders. 

"Does it make the monster more real to talk about it?"

Dean shrugs. He's got no idea. 

"Does it make me less real?"

And that's a take Dean hasn't thought about before. After a moment, he shakes his head. "No. 'S more like - you're not there in my head with me, but at least you know where I went. So there's more connection between here -," he gestures at his head, "and here." He envelops the whole room. 

"That's good," Cas smiles. "Though I wish I could help fight the demons. But at least I can be here and hold out a rope for you to grasp. Give you an attachment point in the present when you need it."

"You're good at this," Dean remarks, because he can picture himself grabbing that rope and it feels like tangible help.

"I took a few psych classes," Cas says with a half- smile. "Also, I love you."

It is a little easier after that. Dean doesn't even have to make much of an effort to not seem disconnected around Cas. Because there are actually more moments when Dean is all here. It's usually when Cas is there as well, because apparently Cas is actually a tether. 

One that the pups can't provide. With them, it's too easy to drift, to see a small Sammy pulling himself up on the door of the Impala instead of Rob conquering the couch. To see Sam's temper tantrums in Ben's spirited food refusals. Though the worst is still when Mary is being helpful. She tries herding her brothers to make them move in the right direction. She tries feeding them and calming them down when they cry. She doesn't do it out of necessity like Dean did. No one's ever told her to take care of them, she does it merely because she emulates what her fathers do and because she is proud of being a big sister, but it keeps messing with Dean's head. 

"Daddy!!" Mary drops the spoon she had been holding and runs up to Cas. 

"Hey, little Miss Sunshine. Uncle Gabriel called, he and Jack are going to see whether they can spot some funny birds in the forest. Do you want to go with them?"

Mary looks back at the twins and the half-eaten mush in their bowls and then back at her dad. 

“You want to make sure they eat first?” Cas asks. 

She nods earnestly. 

“Alright,” Cas says and sits down on the chair next to Rob’s high-chair. “Come on, little miss, jump up.” He holds out his hands for Mary, who launches herself at her dad. 

“I wasn’t - I can finish this,” Dean says. 

Cas smiles at him. “Of course you can. But I’m here and I can help. You on the other hand,” he tickles Mary’s sides so that she squeals and laughs, “can tell me all about your day while I help Dada. Does that sound good?”

Mary nods excitedly and starts babbling at Cas about Mr. Sparkles and his adventures, and about how they had almost come to an abrupt end when they’d had a run-in with Ben’s fire truck. Ben is delighted at the mention of his name and starts throwing in random words and remarks. Only Rob is happy to sit and eat. 

It’s like the happiness in the room went up ten degrees because Cas came in here. It feels much like failure on Dean’s part, even though Dean knows he himself is more relaxed as well now that Cas has engaged Mary and she’s back to energetic and loud instead of earnest and helpful. 

So Dean stays quiet, feeding Ben as best as Ben lets him, but otherwise mostly trying not to disrupt the peaceful scene. 

When the twins are done, their bowls empty, Cas gives Rob a kiss on the head and ruffles Mary’s hair. “Do you want to go to the forest with Uncle Gabe and Jack now?”

“Yes!” Mary shouts excitedly. 

“Well, then you should find your shoes and your coat.” 

She’s off like a flash towards the hallway. 

Cas chuckles and looks at his watch. “Looks like I timed this well, Gabriel will be here in five minutes.”

Dean nods silently. 

Cas’ smile falls, if only for a second, before a perfectly crafted neutral smile reappears. “I called Cain and they’ll go by his place and get him to come with them. He knows the best spots to watch animals anyway.”

Dean nods again. “Good thinking.” His voice comes out too hoarse. 

“Can you handle the rugrats for the moment?” 

“Of course,” Dean nods. 

“Alright. I’ll meet you in the nursery?” 

Dean nods again. Cas squeezes his shoulder before following their daughter to the door.

The twins fall asleep fast. Unless the day is very adventurous, it never takes long for them to get tired after food, the pleasure of a full stomach and the work of digesting apparently enough to reliably knock them out. 

Dean watches their little chests rise and fall for a while. He  should go do some other work. There’s always more chores to do. Cas would come find him if he isn’t here. But Cas said to meet him in the nursery. Which is where Dean is. So he’s not lazy if he doesn’t move on to the next task, he’s just listening. He lets himself sink into the cushions on the couch. The way his limbs go out from under him the moment his ass hits the cushion makes it indisputably clear how exhausted he feels. Which makes that icky worthless feeling come back. But he knows Cas would have some choice words to say about that, so Dean does his best to let the feeling wash over him and let it dissipate. He opts to stare into the void instead, eyes unfocusing the minute he allows them to go blurry. 

It’s old-fashioned wallpaper and a dark wooden crib. Someone’s tried to make this nursery nice, once upon a time, maybe his parents before Dean was born, maybe someone else before they moved into this house. He doesn’t know. He knows that the wallpaper is loose in places and he holds his hands in his lap, clutching them, because it’s tempting to pick at the edges to see what’s underneath, but he remembers last time he did that. His fingers had burned for hours, his mom had slapped them so hard. 

“Dean!”

The voice is too quiet  a whisper, the hand on his knee too soft. Can’t belong to his dad. He blinks - he’s in a nursery that’s blue and yellow like ocean and sand. And he’s looking into worried blue eyes. 

“That was not the first time you called my name,” Dean concludes when Cas’ tension makes it through. 

Cas nods. 

“Ugh.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp in the hopes that it might ground him. “I was thinking about Sam’s nursery, sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Thinking about?” Cas asks with a frown like he’s caught Dean in a lie.

And yeah, okay, it had been more like, “Been there, more like. Like, stuck in the past for a moment.” He refrains from apologizing again because while it’s his first instinct, Cas never likes it when Dean apologizes more than once for the same thing. “It’s been happening less, though. Since we talked, I mean. That helped. Thank you.”

It softens Cas’ face, which is exactly what Dean wanted. To smooth out a few of those worry lines. But the effect is short-lived. Cas grimaces a little guiltily and then holds out a small card to Dean. 

It’s a business card, kept simple, no frills. Billie Reaper, clinical psychologist. Specialities: trauma, childhood abuse , gender-related issues.

“I’m not going to make you. If you don’t want this, you don’t have to go. I’m asking you to think about it, though.”

Dean swallows heavily, staring at the letters on the card until they blur. 

“I promise you that she’s not weird. She comes highly recommended.”

“By whom?” Dean asks softly. He hadn’t known Cas had talked about him with anyone.

“Pamela Barnes,” Cas confesses. 

Dean nods. That makes sense. If anyone, it would be their doctor that Cas contacted about this. He swallows again. Though his stomach swoops towards the floor with the question, but he’s got to ask, “Does she work at a clinic?”

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I mean, she helps out at the hospital sometimes when a mental health diagnosis is needed. But she has a private practice.”

“So this doesn’t mean that you want me to…” Dean’s voice breaks and he can’t bring himself to say it. 

Cas understands anyway. “Not unless you feel like you would benefit from being away from us for a while,” he answers. “Do you feel like that?”

Dean shakes his head vehemently before Cas has even finished asking the question. His hand grabs at Cas’ shirt, too. Suddenly, tears are burning behind his eyes. “Please don’t send me away.” 

He’s crushed into a tight hug the very next moment. “Never.” It's quiet but determined and Cas holds him fast. 

Dean hides his face in the crook of Cas’ neck then, unable to do anything but hold on to his mate and let the strong arms around him soothe the shaky anxiety that had skyrocketed for a moment there.

Cas' honey scent is unwavering, the roots and earth strong underneath it, even if the sharp salty notes make it clear that strength is not all there is to him. Cas isn't up there on a pedestal somewhere, an Alpha untouchable in his calmth. He's right here with Dean, willing to share both strength and vulnerability. 

The thought settles like a warm blanket around Dean. He turns his head enough that he can reach the mating bite on Cas' neck to kiss it. It makes Cas drop a kiss into his hair in return. 

Cas loves him. Dean knows this. Cas wants him close. He's not going to send him away just to have him out of sight.

Go to your room, Dean, you're not supposed to be in here.

Yellow eyes flash in the darkness and Dean gasps, suddenly rigid.

Cas' hand cups his face and the image is gone. Dean blinks. "Okay."

"Okay?" Cas asks.

"I'll go see her. The therapist."

"Are you sure?" Cas asks. 

"You'll ask me? If she recommends an inpatient stay to you? You’ll not just agree to it without telling me?"

"Anything that happens will be your decision," Cas confirms.

"Okay," Dean nods. "Okay."

Cas makes good on his word than anything will be Dean’s decision, too. Which means that Dean is still walking around with the business card burning a hole in his pocket. Because this being his choice means that he has to make the appointment. But every time he thinks about calling that number, his stomach swoops and he quickly thinks about something else.  

It goes like that for almost two weeks. Hole burning, stomach swooping, distraction. 

And then, there’s a lightbulb moment. He stops in the middle of the hallway when it happens. Because he can write a text message instead. Why has that never occurred to him? He doesn’t actually have to call, he can write. He feels inside himself but the stomach drop doesn’t come. This feels better. Less overwhelming. He can draft a message and send it whenever. He doesn't need to try to find the right words in real time. 

So over the next two days, he drafts  a message. 

Dean @BillieReaper: Hi. My name is Dean Novak. I've been having some trouble with what my mate says is dissociation related to trauma. He thinks you might be able to help. Do you think you could fit me into your schedule? 

He rereads the message several times over the span of another half day, changing small things every time. He's got no idea whether it's enough info or not. Or whether Billie even takes clients right now. Therapists have waitlists. But then, the Novak Pack is well-known around here. There is every chance that Billie will know who they are. He grimaces. That makes it easier to get an appointment but also worse in some ways. Because Dean having mental health issues will reflect on Cas, no matter how much Dean's issues are not Cas' fault. And yeah, there is the whole doctor-patient-privilege thing, but still. 

And if he keeps thinking about this, he'll talk himself out of it and he knows Cas would nod and say ‘it's your choice’ when he finally asks Dean about it and wouldn’t bring it up again, but Dean wakes up every night to Cas' limbs wrapped completely around him, no matter what position they went to sleep in. Like asleep-Cas has only the one goal to keep Dean safe. Like his subconscious allows him to do what his conscious mind forbids him, because when he's awake, he always tries to give Dean enough space and not smother him with his concern. But the concern is still there. 

So Dean hits send, even though he has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths after to stave off the budding panic. 

He doesn’t mention it to anyone, not even Cas. Instead, he bundles himself and the twins up, puts the pups in their stroller and goes on foot to get Mary from her kindergarten class. It’s been getting consistently warmer every week since Mary’s birthday, but there’s a fresh wind today that makes Dean shiver. It happens every so often, the spring weather disturbed by Northern winds that bring the memory of snow they found in the Arctic. He breathes in deep and lets the freshness wash over him. It’s a smell untouched by humans. Dean thinks this kind of smell might have survived unchanged since the dawn of time. 

The twins fall asleep almost immediately, and the brisk walk helps with keeping Dean’s anxiety at bay, the stark sensation of the cold on his skin keeping him present. It’s nice. Or as nice as things get these days. He smiles at a few people that pass by, but no one is bothering him. 

Not, that is, until he reaches the kindergarten, where he finds Gabriel sitting on the short wall that surrounds the perimeter of the building. He’s playing something on his phone. Candy Crush, if Dean had to guess. Well, there will be no avoiding him, so Dean might as well bite the bullet. 

“Hey.” Dean hops up on the wall next to Gabe.

“Oh, hey, Dean-o!” Gabe looks up in surprise. “You’re here early.”

“So are you,” Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, I went shopping, made no sense to go back home before coming here. And you took a walk?” The wrinkles on his forehead show how weird he thinks that is.

Dean shrugs again. “‘S nice out. Felt like the thing to do. Thanks for taking Mary with you the other day. She really enjoyed it.”

It successfully distracts Gabriel. “Ah, I gotta say, I’ll never not find it strange to hang out with Gramps. Especially when it’s just me and the kids.”

Dean snorts. “Pretty sure the feeling is mutual.” The first time Gabriel and Jack had shown up on Cain’s doorstep on their own, Cain had actually called Dean for backup. It’s gotten better since, but Dean’s pretty sure that it still spooks the hell out of Cain.

“Ah, if he doesn’t like it, he’s welcome to try and explain to Jack that he’s only Mary’s granddad, and Jack can’t drop by when he feels like he misses him. Because I tried and I’m not doing it again. Once was more than enough,” Gabe chuckles. 

“Jack wants to belong. I understand that,” Dean answers, and notices a heartbeat too late how quiet and subdued he sounds.

Gabriel raises his eyebrows at him. “So do I. What’s up, Dean-o?”

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk with Gabe about his issues. So all he says is, “I’ve been the newcomer in this pack. The one who has no friends and has to learn all the rules because everything was different where you come from. I can relate. That’s all.”

“That was a while ago,” Gabe points out.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Don’t think it ever completely goes away, though.”

That changes Gabe’s scent to worried mud waters. “Dean-o, are you and Cassie good?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods quickly. “I’m a bit stressed out lately, that’s all.”

Gabe nods dubiously, clearly not buying Dean’s deflection. But just then, the first children start streaming out of the building, so Dean guesses he’ll get out of answering right now and Cas will just have to deal with the call from his brother that he’s gonna get sometime in the near future. 

Now that he’s engaged with their surroundings again, he notices the other parents that have started assembling, too. They’ve all kept a respectful distance as long as Gabe and he were talking, but now they’re smiling and greeting them and a feeling of dread washes over Dean because the first one is gonna come up to them in no time at all, and then next will follow, and then the next, because that’s what they always do, and really, Dean loves that they trust him to help, but today he just can’t.

“Come on,” Gabe grabs the stroller with one hand, Dean’s arm with the other and starts dragging them towards the entrance of the building. He nods and smiles at the people they’re passing, but he doesn’t stop until he sees Mary and Jack. “Oh my,” Gabe exclaims and sinks down to his knees to hug his son, “what a lovely sweater you’ve got! I wonder where you’ve got that from.”

“From meeeeeee!” Mary shouts and jumps up and down on the spot a few times before holding out her arms for Dean to pick her up. “We tradeded them!” 

“I see,” Dean smiles and lifts her up a little higher on his hip so that he can look at her new sweater. It’s the same amount of too big on her that her unicorn sweater is too small on Jack. “Tractors are your new thing then, huh?”

“Yes!” She nods with fervor. “Tractors are cool!”

“What about dinosaurs? Are they also cool?”

That gets him a double shout of “Yes!!” from  both of them. 

“That’s good to know,” Dean nods earnestly. 

“Ah, Dean-o, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gabe asks. 

“To know the answer to that, I’d have to know what you’re thinking,” Dean points out.

“Fair,” Gabe answers. “Guess I should run this by you and Cassie before sharing with the munchkins,” he says and boops Jack on the nose. 

But of course he’s already gotten everyone’s attention. Mary struggles in Dean’s arms until he puts her back on the ground so that she can run back over to Gabe and Jack. “What is it, what is it,” they both demand to know. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure I should tell you. You might get way too excited,” Gabe teases. 

“Pleeeeeease!!” They both beg. 

Gabe looks up at Dean in silent question. Dean has no idea what this is about, but he still nods at Gabe. Gabe wouldn’t make a big production if he didn’t have a way to deliver on whatever excitement he found. 

“Well, I’ve heard that there is a dinosaur exhibit opening next week and it’s like only 20 minutes from here.” There is immediate squealing at the news, so Gabe has to raise his voice a bit to go on. “So if all Alpha-Daddies are okay with it, we could all have a day-trip together on a weekend sometime. If ,” he repeats. 

“Imma ask Alpha-Eddy tonight!” Mary decides. She’s basically vibrating with excitement.

“Me too!” Jack nods, not to be outdone by her. 

“Yeah, that’s a good plan,” Gabe nods. He groans when he gets back up from his crouch. “I should have become a father before I got this creaky.”

“Seems to me like you’re doing well.”

Gabe shrugs, deflecting the compliment, but it’s hard to miss how his scent brightens. “What do you say, Jack, ready to go home?” He holds out his hand to his son. 

Jack nods, but instead of immediately taking his dad’s hand, he first goes to hug Mary, who throws her arms around Jack in return. 

It makes Dean smile. Who would have thought it a year ago, that Mary would find another best friend in Jack. 

They say their goodbyes and head home. The twins wake up somewhere around the halfway point and of course immediately want to go exploring, too, so Dean unstraps them from their stroller and lets them run. Or rather stumble. Or crawl. Their methods of propelling themselves forward vary. They’re also not very effective yet, so Dean sends off a quick text message to Cas that they will be late, because he knows Cas is going to worry if he doesn’t. 

Which is when he sees it. 

BillieReaper @Dean: Would Monday in a week at 3pm work for you? 

For a moment, he can’t breathe. It’s so much faster than he expected. It’s almost no time to prepare himself at all. He’ll have to lay his soul bare to a stranger and - he becomes aware of Mary pulling at his pant leg.

“Dada?” she asks, worried head tilt a carbon copy of Cas’. 

He forces air into his lungs and gives her a smile. “It’s all good, sweetheart. I just wrote Daddy that we’ll be a bit later because Rob and Ben want to go adventuring.”

She gives him a dubious nod. “Dinosaur game?”

There is of course only one acceptable answer to that. “Rawr!!”

Which makes her giggle and roar back at him and then the twins are catching up and they all stomp on as large dinosaurs in a tiny world. 

Until, they see Cas, at least, who walks towards them when they’re still ten minutes out from the house. 

“Raaaawwwwrrrr!!!” Mary runs up to her Alpha-Dad and growls as menacingly as she can. 

“We are dinosaurs,” Dean informs Cas. 

“Ah,” Cas nods and then he roars, too. 

Only, Cas is an Alpha. An Alpha, who puts quite a bit of his power into his roar. It freezes them all to their spots. 

Cas notices a second later. He stops and blushes, looking sheepish. 

Dean is the first to recover, swooping up the twins before they can start to cry, “And that, little ones, is how a roar sounds to you when you’re not actually the dinosaur, but the prey.” He kisses both of them as they hold on to him. “But fortunately, Alpha-Daddy was only playing.” 

“Can you do it again?” Mary asks, her eyes wide and round and fascinated. 

“Umm,” Cas rubs his neck, still flustered. “Maybe this is more of a game for when the twins are older.”

“But I’m older already!” Mary pouts. 

“Which is why you are the one who wanted to ask Alpha-Daddy something, remember?” Dean interrupts before Mary can start having a tantrum. 

“Ohhhhhhh!” Mary lights back up. “Yes!!” She jumps up and down on the spot again, energy reserves apparently never depleted. “Can we go see the dinosaurs, Daddy?” 

“Last I heard, they were extinct,” Cas answers matter-of-factly.

Dean snorts, but Mary just shakes her head. “Noo!! The other dinosaurs! The ones in the ex-, the ex-?” She looks back at Dean for help. 

“The exhibit, sunshine.”

“The exhibit,” she pronounces carefully and with satisfaction. “Those dinosaurs! Uncle Gabe said we can!”

“Umm,” Dean says, “that’s bending the truth a little. He said, we can all go if both Alpha-Daddies agree.”

“Hmm,” Cas says and makes a thoughtful face. “That is not an easy decision. There are many factors to think about with a request like this.”

Mary’s eyes turn impossibly rounder. “We’ve been very good,” she says, obviously guessing at what Cas’ condition could be. 

Cas crouches down next to her, face still serious, though Dean can see the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “I like to hear that. But I was gonna ask you a different question.”

She looks at Cas earnestly. “You can ask me any question.”

It cracks Cas’ composure, his love shining through in the warm smile he gives her. “Well then, my question was whether this is an Omega-Dads trip only or whether you think it would be okay if I invited myself to join you?” She has trouble parsing the long question, so Cas adds, “Would you like it if I came along?”

That gets him an excited 3-year-old hanging off his neck. “Yeeeeeeeeees!!” she yells. “You come with us, Daddy!”

Cas grins like a Cheshire cat, when he heaves both himself and her up from the ground. “I would enjoy that very much.”

He comes over to Dean, who struggles a little keeping both twins aloft, and gives him a quick peck on the mouth. 

“Well played,” Dean admits. 

“I do what I can,” Cas chuckles. “Sorry about before.”

Dean shakes his head. “Nevermind. It’s all good, Alpha.” He leans in to give Cas a kiss of his own. He knows Cas never wants to scare them. “Alright, rugrats, let’s see that we get home, so that we can all have dinner.”

Dinner is the chaotic affair that it always is. The only difference is that today, Dean’s thoughts keep straying to his phone in his pocket, a nervous energy thrumming through him that offsets his normal exhaustion. He’s got enough help with the pups tonight, too. Cas is here, obviously, but Kelly is helping as well. 

She’s been doing that lately. Only ever on the days when Dean feels off, which would be creepy if she tried in any way to impress Cas with it. But she doesn’t. She just helps, as unobtrusively as she does everything, and then she disappears back into her room. It’s like she really just - wants to help, because she notices Dean is not feeling well. Maybe it would leave him more off-balance if he wasn’t so tired all the time. As it is, he only nods at her gratefully. 

It’s just him and Cas when they bring the pups to bed, though, their evening ritual one that rarely gets shared with anyone beyond the immediate family. Cain might join in every so often, and Dean still sometimes misses Deanie and Sam. Well, in the future, there might be sleepovers and the like, even though Sam and Eileen will move into their own home when they come back. 

As usual, it takes a while before the pups are asleep, Mary taking longer than the twins to be out deep enough that they can leave the room. No one is screaming, which is good, but  today, the quiet makes Dean fidgety. He holds out until they manage to creep out of the nursery, though, before he asks Cas, “Are you done for the day or do you have more work to do?”

Cas raises his eyebrows at him. “Nothing that has a tight deadline.”

“So you have a moment?” Dean asks. 

Now Cas’ eyebrows furrow, and really how anyone can say Cas is unexpressive is beyond Dean. 

“Of course,” Cas nods and lets Dean lead them to the safety of their bedroom. Which Dean does before he takes out his phone and opens the message thread with the therapist. 

He holds out the phone to Cas, who takes it with another frown. His face clears up while he’s reading, though. When he’s done, he hands the phone back to Dean. 

“Are you going to take the appointment?” Cas asks, voice perfectly neutral. 

Dean grimaces. “Was gonna ask you about that, actually.”

“Dean, it’s completely up to -”

“Up to me, I know,” Dean sighs and plonks down on their bed. He rubs a hand through his hair before looking back up at Cas. Best to rip off the bandaid. “I’m not sure I’m gonna be good to drive.”

“Oh,” Cas says and sits down on the bed as well. 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “And I kinda don’t really want to talk about any of this with anyone other than you. And, well, the therapist, I guess. So I was gonna ask you…”

“Of course,” Cas interrupts. “Of course I’ll drive you.”

“You haven’t even looked at your schedule yet.”

“I’ll make the time. And the necessary arrangements to step on neighboring pack territory.” Cas nods like he’s already thinking about who to contact for this. 

“Thank you,” Dean smiles, glad that Cas’ tone is decisive enough that he doesn’t feel like arguing. 

Cas pulls him into a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

That brooks no argument, either, so instead, Dean lays his head on Cas’ chest and listens to his heartbeat. 

He isn’t sure whether Monday in a week takes an eternity to roll around or whether it’s here way too fast. 

In any case, it’s Monday now and he's riding shotgun in their sensible minivan and no matter how hard he tries, his leg won't stop jittering. 

Cas keeps looking over whenever traffic allows, but apparently he has no more of an idea what to say than Dean. They both keep their quiet, anyway. 

Right until they roll up to the parking spot in front of the therapist's office, that is.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Cas asks. 

Dean hesitates. "Would you prefer to?" He asks back. 

Cas looks at him for a long moment, before he says, “I don't mind either way. I don't think it's necessary, if that's what you're asking."

It is and it isn't. Dean's pretty sure that anyone that Pam recommends is completely safe. He's also sure that it'll be an hour of breathing exercises for Cas to let Dean go into a strange environment on his own. Still, "I think I'd like to do this on my own if it's okay for you." 

Because he's pretty sure the therapist gets plenty of clients where the Alpha speaks for the Omega. And whether that's the custom of their society or not, Dean doesn't want that. If he goes in there to deal with all of his fucking trauma he wants to be his own person while doing it. 

Cas gives him a smile that is supposed to be reassuring, but turns out small and anxious. “Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m keeping my phone on me. You’re on speed dial. I’ll call you the minute something feels off.”

Cas nods, expression grateful. “I wish this wasn’t necessary.”

Dean shrugs. “I love you very much, little Alpha. And whether it’s necessary as a safety precaution or not, I’ll always try my best to make sure you’re good.”

“That also a part I wish wasn’t necessary,” Cas admits. “I don’t want to be an extra burden on you.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, “You are hearing yourself, right? Cause I’m pretty sure you just stole my line.”

That makes Cas huff and look away for a moment, his cheeks coloring. 

“We’re a couple of dumbasses that way,” Dean says quietly and squeezes Cas’ hand. “Yes, yes, less dumb, less ass, I know,” he chuckles before Cas even has the chance to say it. “But for real, I’m glad that you care so much about me, but the reason that’s working is because you allow me to care just as much about you.”

“I know,” Cas sighs. “I know.” Then he looks at the dashboard clock. “You need to go.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, but he still leans over to steal a quick kiss. “Thank you, little Alpha.”

Cas presses him close for a long moment before releasing him. “Go, Dean. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The practice doesn’t look that dissimilar from Pam's from the outside, a one-storied bungalow-like building. The difference is that where Pam's office has a waiting area, here, the door is locked. Dean takes a deep breath and rings the door-bell. 

A minute later, a tall black woman opens the door. And immediately, Dean understands why the door was locked. The sweetness of her scent is unmistakable. This fierce looking woman is an Omega.

"You must be Dean," she greets him with a friendly smile. 

"Uh, yeah," Dean smiles back. "Billie, I assume?"

"In the flesh," she grins. "Please come on in."

Dean turns back towards the car for a moment, just to give Cas a reassuring smile. 

"Your mate?" Billie asks. 

"Yeah," Dean nods. 

"Is he good staying out here?"

"Has to be," Dean shrugs. 

She smiles at him. "Good answer. I like it."

"Was figuring that you get plenty of Alpha mates posturing in here."

"It happens," she nods. "They tend to be less possessive once they figure out that I'm an Omega."

"So that works to your advantage, huh?" Still a concept that surprises Dean, that being an Omega can work to your advantage. 

"Sometimes," Billie nods. "Especially when the client is an Omega as well." She smiles at him. "Sit anywhere you like."

There are a variety of chairs, armchairs, pillows and a couch to choose from. Dean decides on a comfortable looking armchair. 

"Do you take Alphas as clients?" He asks curiously. 

"Rarely," Billie admits. "Several reasons of course."

Dean can imagine a few of them, from Alphas not wanting to work with an Omega counselor to Alphas wanting to mate said Omega counselor, who is always so nice to them. It's probably for the better if those situations never come up. "You never asked my gender," he points out.

She smiles, "No offense, but between the boarding school and the news coverage about Michael, your pack and your mate are kind of well known. I didn't have to ask." 

That's fair enough, Dean guesses. "It's not his fault. Cas', I mean. That I'm here."

She nods. "I didn't assume that it was. So, do you want to tell me a bit about what brings you here?" She takes a pen and a writing pad and finds herself a chair across from him, far enough away that she’s not crowding him, but still close enough that she’ll hear even quiet words. 

"Umm." 'Want' is probably overstating it by quite a bit.

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t paint the complete picture or if you forget details. Let’s just start at whatever is going through your mind right now and we’ll work from there. Okay?”

That sounds doable, so Dean nods.

“You mentioned trauma and dissociation,” Billie starts him off. 

“Umm, yeah,” Dean nods. “It’s like sometimes I’m not all there.”

“Can you describe that a little more? Does it feel more like you’re nowhere or like being away from your body or like you are somewhere else?”

“All of them. Sometimes,” Dean says and shudders a little. “I think the - the scariest ones are when it’s like I’m in our old house. The one that burned down when I was four. I have a hard time finding my way back from those.”

“Hmm,” Billie notes something down on her writing pad. “That sounds like a flashback.”

“That’s like - when you get stuck in a memory, right?” He should have taken more practical psychology classes instead of learning mostly about Freud’s ideas of how all young Omegas are sexual beings fixated on their Alpha-parents’ attentions. He shudders again, this time with disgust. 

“Basically,” Billie nods. “Flashbacks feel like the past is happening right now. Sometimes that’s visual and you actually see the scene you’re reliving, sometimes it’s sensory, like a smell transporting you back, and sometimes it’s your feelings that are reacting to the past rather than the present.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, I get that last one, too. Like, Cas will say something and I’ll react like I’m in grade school and my dad is about to -”, he breaks off. 

“To hit you?” Billie asks softly. 

Dean nods and she notes it down. 

“But your mate doesn’t do that?” she asks carefully.

“Fuck, no,” Dean shakes his head. “Cas would never. He’s all around awesome. And I’m not just saying that. He’d never hurt me.”

Billie smiles. “I’m glad. You know why I have to ask, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “You gotta make sure that I’m safe at home. I am. Actually,” he fidgets a little uncomfortably, “that kinda was my worst fear about coming here. That you’d say I couldn’t stay home.”

She frowns. “Why should I say that?”

Dean rubs his hands over his arms. “Cause maybe you think I’m not safe around the pups or something?”

“Do you feel like you’re not safe to be around your children?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “I mean, sometimes I’m exhausted and it feels like I’m watching myself doing stuff. Like, my body is in automatic mode, you know? ‘S hard to connect then. But I still make sure they’re safe.”

She nods and notes something else down on her pad before looking up to ask, “Do you ever want to hurt your pups?”

“What?” He bristles. 

She holds her hands out in a soothing gesture. “It’s okay. There’ll be no judgement from me if you do. Pups can be very stressful and overwhelming, even when you love them with all of your heart. And you have several, right?”

Dean nods. “Three. Mary’s 3 now and the twins are turning 2 in August. And, no, I do not want to hurt them.”

She smiles. “I really mean no offense, Dean. I can see that it’s important to you to be a good father.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I never - I never had that, you know? Didn’t even know my Sire until a few years ago. And my dad - I mean, John, the guy, who raised me…” He grimaces. 

“He is the one that hit you?”

“Yeah. I mean, there’s more to it, but yeah.”

“How do you punish your children?”

Dean blinks at her. “Punish them?” 

She nods. 

“Why would I do that?” Dean asks. 

“Well, your daughter is three already. And even small children can be strong-willed. They break things. They have temper tantrums.”

“Yeah, and then you gotta calm them down so that they learn how to deal with those feelings, not punish them,” he answers incredulously.

Billie smiles. “Well, Dean, from what you’re telling me, I feel like you can lay the fear that you’re not safe around your pups to rest. It sounds to me like you’re doing great. I have one more question, though.”

He nods. “Okay?”

“Do you have help with them? You haven’t told me that much yet, but the fact that you told me that you have emotional flashbacks is enough of a sign of complex trauma in your past that I know that therapy will be its own brand of taxing. I can’t spare you from having to look at the traumas in your past if I want to help you get better. It means that sometimes you’ll need all your energy to focus on yourself. I understand how hard that can be and how wrong it feels to prioritise one’s own needs over those of our children, but it’s important if you want therapy to be a success.”

He nods dumbly, the slimy feeling of not being enough spreading through him.

“Dean?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Maybe it helps if you see it like this: Investing the time now will allow you to be okay without investing so much energy into just functioning later. Being a little selfish now will pay off for everyone.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods again, because he understands the concept in principle. And it’s not like everyone in their household isn’t willing to help. 

“How do you think your mate is going to react if you ask him about needing his support?”

“Cas?” Dean snorts. “He’s gonna jump at the opportunity to do something practical to help. Calms his Alpha down, y’know? When he can actually do something.” 

“So it’s not him who makes you unwilling to ask?”

“Nah,” Dean huffs. “That’s all on me.”

“Okay,” Billie says. “Then I guess that’ll be your homework.”

“There’s homework ?”

She chuckles at his tone, but she doesn’t give in. “Oh yeah, there’s gonna be homework.” She hands him a form with questions. “This here will be homework, too. For the rest of today, we can go over what I need from you here and then you can fill this in at home and give it back to me next time we see each other. It’ll allow me to get a good grasp on what we need to tackle here, and it’ll allow you to take your time in writing down what you think I need to know.”

Dean swallows as he rifles through the papers. It looks like a lot. 

“You don’t need to go into too much detail. I don’t want you to get triggered by anything, I just want to get an overview over what we’re dealing with. Do you know what a trigger is? An actual one, not the internet-lingo version.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Something that makes a flashback happen.”

“Yes, very good,” Billie smiles. “Okay, let’s go over the forms real quick.”

Dean is utterly exhausted when he is finally back outside of Billie’s practice. They barely scratched the surface and it still feels like he’s been turned inside out. 

Cas is out of the car the minute he sees Dean, coming over with a few big strides and folding Dean into his arms. Dean lets Cas catch him, resting his weight on him for a long moment. “I’m good, Cas,” he mumbles. “Tired as fuck, but good.” It isn’t even a lie. 

“So you think this is going to work?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Yeah, I think this is gonna work for me.”

He tells Cas all about Billie and what they talked about on the way back. Cas hums thoughtfully at the information that Billie is an Omega. Apparently Pam hadn’t told him about that. Dean doesn’t really stumble in his tale all the way until he gets to his homework. 

“Billie said that, umm, that it might take a lot of energy, looking at old traumas.”

“I’m sure she’s right,” Cas replies. 

“She said to, uhh, ask you for help. With the pups. So that I can have some time to, uhh, work through stuff when I need to.” 

“That makes sense,” Cas nods. 

“So, uhh…”

Cas turns his head away from the road for a second to send Dean a quick smile and an encouraging nod.

“Asshat,” Dean grumbles because he might have known that Cas would actually make him ask since Dean just told him that it was his homework. Of course the bit of annoyance also is what pushes him to actually do the thing. “So, would you be willing to take over pup duty at night on the days that I have therapy? That would help a lot.”

Cas’ smile turns wide and his scent blooms from honey into full-on chocolate, the scent of his pride so strong that Dean can almost taste it on his tongue. “Of course, Dean. I’ll make sure that I always have the time.”

Dean shakes his head, because Cas is a bit ridiculous, but Dean’s also genuinely grateful so he puts his hand on Cas’ thigh, “Thank you.”

“I’m more than happy to help. Thank you for asking, I really appreciate it.”

“Stop it,” Dean grumbles because he can feel his face heating up. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Cas grins.

It’s only in that moment when they’ve accidentally found a semblance of their usual banter that Dean notices how much he’s missed it. Cas has been looking at him with worry in his eyes for way too long. Dean’s throat is immediately too dry, but he doesn’t want to lose the newfound levity. “‘Course not,” he rolls his eyes in affected frustration. “And here I’d thought I’d found myself the one reasonable Alpha around here.” He bumps Cas’ shoulder to make it clear that he’s playing.

“Hmm,” Cas considers this with the same earnest expression he uses to consider Mary’s dinosaur games, “it seems to me that the only reasonable approach is to give you all the compliments you deserve and enjoy that even after all these years it still makes you blush.”

“Have I mentioned the asshat part sometime in all of those years?” Dean shakes his head, though of course his face is heating up even more. 

That makes Cas laugh out loud. “Yes, I believe you have. I also believe that your scent has called you a liar every single time.”

“Touché,” Dean admits, because he’s reasonably certain that’s true. Neither him nor Cas are the type to call each other names in anger. It’s only ever in play when every name might as well be an endearment. The thought makes him smile. Not even Gabe and Bal always manage that. They say shit to each other that they regret. And even if they apologize after, it’s still been said. And while Gabe and Bal don’t seem any worse for wear because of it, Dean’s not sure the same would go for him and Cas. Both of their skins are too thin for it, they get easily bruised by harsh words. 

“Dean?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, knowing that his scent will have darkened with his thoughts. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

And maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t. “I’m sorry that there’s moments when my brain doesn’t recognize it’s you. When I’m stuck in some place in the past and I’m afraid of shit that other people would have done to me. I know that it hurts you. And I also know that you wouldn’t do those things to me.”

“There’s still nothing to be sorry about.”

“Remember how I said that we work so well because we both allow the other to take care of us?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me say sorry when I do something that hurts you.”

Cas frowns. “I’m not sure that’s fair, though. An apology implies wrong-doing. And that implies a conscious decision. Neither of which I can see in this case.”

Dean sighs. “Can you understand why that doesn’t make me feel any better?”

Cas pulls the car over to the side then, killing the engine so that he can give all of his attention to Dean. Dean isn’t sure he likes that development. He feels guilty enough without Cas’ scrutiny. 

“But I know that you’re not trying to hurt me,” Cas insists.

“But it’s still hurting you. Don’t even try to tell me that it’s not true. I know that it is.”

Cas shrugs. “It is. But Dean, half of that is because it hurts seeing you in pain. It’s my own helplessness that hurts. So at the very least we should be trading apologies.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Dean scoffs. “You’re doing awesome, dealing with me. None of this shit is your fault.”

“Pot meet kettle?”  

 “Cas,” Dean groans. “Just - let me do something , okay?”

“But you are already doing something! You’re going to therapy! Do you know how many people never find the strength to look at all the stuff that happened to them? How many people just continue the cycle into the next generation? You have never done that. You’ve always been incredibly strong in dealing with what life throws at you. So excuse me if I really never ever want to have you apologize for dealing with what other people did to you .”

Cas’ tone gets quite intense, even though his voice doesn’t get loud. The anger that’s simmering whenever the topic is the people that hurt Dean is close to the surface. But like always, Cas doesn’t let it take over. Because in the end, no matter how much he might want to punch out those people, they are not Cas’ priority. Dean is. And it’s something that he’s made so clear that it’s actually made it through to Dean’s brain. 

So really, he doesn’t have a good argument against this. “Yeah, okay. If you word it that way, you may have a point,” Dean grumbles. 

It instantly softens and sweetens Cas’ scent. Which of course Dean’s mood reacts to as well, the guilty feeling at least partially replaced with the satisfaction of having made his mate happy. 

“Unfair,” he mutters, but he also leans over the center console and reels Cas in for a kiss, which Cas melts into. And yeah, they have so little time alone and Dean’s been so preoccupied with his brain, there haven’t been many times lately when they’ve managed to connect this way. 

He revels in the feeling of Cas’ mouth on his, in the way Cas’ hands come up to connect them. The way that even with everything, Cas always seeks him out. It hits him again, how good they actually are together. How well they take care of each other. And yeah, he always knows it, but he’s spent so much time being only half in the present in the past few months that the renewed clarity is unexpected. 

He tries to put it into the kiss, then, this feeling and the joy at their connection. It deepens the kiss, Cas’s hands tugging at him to get him closer, and damn this center console that doesn’t let him slide over and onto Cas’ lap like he wants to. 

The next moment, he remembers that they’re parked on the side of a busy street and that that would probably be a really bad idea. It’s a bit of a bucket of cold water, enough that Cas notices it, too, and breaks the kiss, blinking a little confused. 

“Street. People,” Dean explains. “Damn.” He doesn’t plan to say the last part out loud, but it slips out anyway. 

Cas' pupils are blown, their makeout session affecting him as well, but he still laughs at Dean's expletive. "I'll make you a deal. If you still feel that way tonight, we'll do anything you want."

Dean can’t help it, he winces a little at the enthusiastic response. 

It sobers Cas up. "I know," he sighs. "I know that it's not likely. We'll both be tired by then. I can't promise I'd be up for it, either. Maybe we can fit in some cuddling and some lazy making out, though? That would be nice."

He looks so very hopeful that Dean can't break his heart by pointing out that Dean seeking out even that is uncertain. He nods instead. "I'd like that." It's true, too. He loves any moment that he gets to enjoy with Cas without either the outside world or his brain fucking them up. "Though also, if you need more than that, you gotta let me know, alright? ‘Cause I can do that, too, even when I’m too tired to initiate it." When Cas holds his hand up to protest, Dean stops him with a shake of his head. "I know that you'd never demand it. That you'd never make me. But Cas, the fact that I'm exhausted and, umm, not usually feeling all that energetic and enthusiastic these days doesn't mean I wouldn't be a willing participant to anything that makes you feel better."

Cas gives him what’s supposed to be a smile, but turns out more of a grimace. "Thank you for the offer, Dean." He rests his head against the headrest and bites his lip before continuing, "I won't lie, I do miss us being intimate. I think of how happy we were during your last heat and -," he breaks off with a deep sigh before reaching for Dean’s hand. "But what I really miss about that is the connection with you. And if not all of you is in our bed with me because a part of you is stuck in the past and you’re just bearing my attention because you are kind and giving," he shakes his head. "That doesn't sound like anything I want."

Dean squeezes Cas’ hand. "Come on, man. I know that I'm more than a warm hole to you. I wasn't implying that you use my body without any consideration for the rest of me, either. All I’m saying is that I’m willing to do what I can to make you feel better."

"And I appreciate it,” Cas nods. “But it’s still a no. I want to share our intimacy, I don’t want it to be ‘for me’. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. And if that’s not a thing right now, then it’s not a thing.”

Cas is wearing his stubborn face now, so arguing makes no sense. “Okay,” Dean gives in and cuddles as close as this stupid car will allow him. 

Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s neck and for a little while, they stay like this, breathing in each other’s scent quietly. 

“I love you very much, Dean Novak.”

There’s so much truth in the sentence and so much pride in the name, and Dean even after all of these years still has no idea how he got so lucky that he found this Alpha and got to keep him. 

Cas makes good on his word and takes over all evening routines with the pups, leaving Dean to contemplate the therapy session. Surprisingly, he feels mostly okay. Talking to Billie had been - not exactly easy, but also not as hard as he thought it would be. She had even alleviated some of his fears. Which, frankly, was quite a lot more than he had expected. 

Maybe it did help that she was an Omega. Dean’s pretty sure that if the therapist had been some knot-fixated Alpha psychoanalyst, things would not have gone as smoothly. Not that he thinks Pam would have recommended someone like that. He’d more thought along the terms of sensible Beta. There’s a reason why most therapists are Betas, after all. They are the only ones able to work with all genders and while the ‘shining superstars’ in the profession are still all Alphas, Betas have a reputation for being hard-working and efficient.

Becoming a therapist as an Omega on the other hand? Dean’s never even had it on his radar. Because it’s not just college - he’s doing that and even though he feels like the slowest student on the planet, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna graduate with a Masters degree at some point in the future. In what is actually still quite an acceptable timeframe for an Omega, especially one with pups. But graduation is only the start if you want to open your own practice. You need clinical experience and the board certification, and it’s years upon years and decisions upon decisions made about your qualifications by usually Alphas. Many of whom still think that being an Omega is enough to disqualify you from a professional career even before getting mated and having pups. 

No, Billie must have been extraordinarily persistent to make it through all of that and open up her own practice. On her own, too, a locked door and a burglar alarm system the only security measures Dean saw. That takes guts, too. They live in a less bigoted part of the country, but it’s not like attacks on Omega health clinics and other Omega-led ventures don’t still happen. An angry Alpha with the wrong kind of friends, and a small practice might go up in flames. 

He’s got the immediate urge to ask Billie to move her practice here, to their territory, where they can provide security. But then, he’s a client not a savior here. And she’s got a pack. Cas had to ask permission to enter to even drive him there. So she’s being as safe as she can be. 

He sighs and goes to search for the forms she gave him. He takes the stack of papers and a pen outside to the porch, where his favorite spot still always has blankets at the ready, so that he can sit here when the evenings are cool. 

The first page is all normal patient intake stuff, dealing with his personal data and his insurance. Questions about former diagnoses and doctors’ visits for mental health issues. Other illnesses that might compound the problems. He fills in what he knows by heart and skips what he has to look up. 

After that, it gets more complicated. 

The title of the following pages is ‘trauma assessment’ and apparently what is needed for that is for him to write down everything that has ever happened to him. He grimaces at the prospect. He’s gonna need a year and a lot more paper if he actually wants to attempt that. 

Still, he starts. There’s technical stuff to fill in that should be easy enough. Family members, parents, siblings, birth dates, days of death for those who have passed away. Though of course there are immediate snags there as well. There are only two lines for the parents, where Dean would need three. He thinks about it for a moment and then chooses John Winchester to put in, because Dean’s learned about the ‘adverse childhood experiences’ score in college, and he knows he scores around an 8 of 10 depending on whether you classify John’s obsessions as a mental illness or not, and all of that is most definitely not Cain’s fault. 

The form asks him to describe his parents, both their character traits and his relationship with them back in his childhood and now, and the question makes a knot appear in Dean's stomach so he leaves it out for now. 

Next is a table to summarize his school years, a line for kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school each, asking for technical data like graduation scores, but also for major events, for when he presented and how it felt, for any sickness and any injuries, for basically any adverse experiences during those years. Dean swallows hard. That also seems a lot and he’s not sure he wants to tackle it right now. So Dean turns to the next page. 

They are getting closer to the present, as there are questions about college, about his current relationship and about his homelife now. A lot of that seems easier than the other stuff, because the present is definitely better than the past. He can write about being mated with children and actually be proud of it. He can write about having friends and getting a college degree. 

He’s curious, though, so he turns to the final questions before filling anything in. The last page consists of questions for him to summarize the issues why he wants therapy, the support he has in this - both what skills he possesses to deal and outside support -, and an open passage where he can add anything that didn't find a place before. 

He lets out a deep breath when he turns the last page and there are no more questions to be answered. The form still feels overwhelming, even though Billie explained it to him at length that it's usually easier to follow a structured questionnaire and write down the facts of your life in your own time instead of being put on the spot and having to tell them out loud the second your therapist asks. Dean can see how there’s a point to that. Billie also told him that it’s fine to just make a note that there is more when something doesn’t want to be written down, so that they can talk about it at a later point. He sees how that might work, too. Still, the prospect of thinking about every time he got injured, about every shitty move his dad made, about his mom and her death and everything that followed that, makes him flinch away like flinching away from a hot pan. 

So he takes a moment to breathe and look out into the garden. To let the beauty that they are lucky enough to be able to surround themselves with calm him down. Days are already long again and it’s still light enough out to see details. Like the new blooms on the bushes. They’re vibrant during the day, now in the evening they look mellow and soft surrounded by the fresh green of spring foliage. 

He doesn’t have to do this all at once. He can start with the things that are easier and work his way forward. It’s gonna be okay. 

He takes another few deep breaths before nodding to himself. He can do this. 

He takes the pen back up, finds the page about his current life and starts writing about Cas. 

“Hey.”

He jumps when fingers close around his shoulder, but there’s roots and earth and honey, so he doesn’t duck out of the touch. “Hey, Cas.” He looks up at his mate to give him a tiny smile.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks. 

Dean looks over the pages he’s written. It’s more than he thought he would manage. He’s worked his way backwards to middle school already. And surprisingly, even with all of that, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He leans into Cas’ touch until Cas obligingly lays his arm around Dean’s shoulder, allowing Dean to rest his head on his thigh. It’s nice. Cas feels solid and warm. But he doesn’t need the warmth to drag him back out of the mud of the past. He’s already here. 

“‘S different, writing it out on paper.”

“Different?”

“Than I thought it would be.”

“Better or worse?”

“Different,” Dean repeats. “It’s like - it’s draining. But it’s also - outside of my head, you know?”

Cas makes a thoughtful noise. “The words on paper can carry a part of the weight so that you don’t have to carry it inside yourself?”

“Mmh, something like that,” Dean nods and nuzzles his face into Cas’ shirt. “You’re warm and you smell good.”

"Is that so?" Cas chuckles. 

"Mmmh. 'S nice."

"Nice enough to stop working and come to bed with me?"

"Hmm, depends on what you're offering me here, Alpha," Dean grins, feeling playful despite his exhaustion.

Cas shakes his head with a fond smile. "I'm not offering you anything here , that's the whole point of going to the bedroom."

The unexpected joke makes Dean guffaw with sudden laughter. "How you are a respectable pack Alpha, I have no idea, I swear."

Cas shrugs laconically, though there's a smile playing around his lips. "I have a wonderfully bratty mate, I have to make sure I can keep up."

Dean waits for the zing in his stomach following the word brat . But there was also the word wonderful and here's the thing. Cas actually means that. It's in his tone and his eyes and his scent. And even now, even when all of the bullshit from the past is so close, Dean believes it. That Cas actually loves every part of him, including the parts that other people have tried to beat out of him. That he finds him wonderfully bratty and wouldn’t want to change a thing. 

So Dean smiles back with soft eyes and an even softer heart. "You might have a point there, little Alpha. So come on then, take me to bed."