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Hell had never really left Dean. Cas had pulled him out, lost angels in the process. But part of it had come with him. Even all these years later, he still sometimes woke with the heavy stench of sulfur filling his nostrils.
He could still see it, vivid as ever. The fifty years blended together but the landscape was stark in his mind. Bright flashes of lightning illuminating everlasting fires and tortured souls. He could see the chains in the sky, the jagged mountains, the place that had been his workstation--all of it in vivid color, seeping into his mind like a poison.
The sounds were the worst part though. He never saw them in connection with the visions--those were always silent--but they still rang in his ears. It was mostly at night, but sometimes he’d be walking down the street with Sam, on some case or rather, and see someone that looked like one of the souls that he had-
And every time he heard their piercing screams in his ear. But he could deal with those. He couldn’t deal with the small whimpers, the pleading, the defeat. The sound of a small child gasping as he dug the razor further into their neck, his eyes clouded over as he tried to be somewhere else. Because if he was in the moment, if he let himself be there, then he knew he would enjoy it. His sick, twisted mind would enjoy it. Even when he wanted to turn the razor on himself.
He didn’t talk about it anymore though. It didn’t haunt him as much now. New traumas had filled its place. But the visions of Hell somehow stung the most, rang the truest.
And more than anything in his life, Cas had been the one to help that trauma fade to background noise. Of course Sam had too. Or he’d tried. But Dean couldn’t really let Sam in. And sharing memories of Hell with Sam felt cruel, when his brother’s experience in Hell had been a million times worse. Some of that pain had been taken by Cas though.
He was ready to bleed for both of them. To suffer for both of them. Whether it was a desire to pay for his sins or simply a seemingly unending loyalty, he was always there.
Dean hated how easy it was to talk to him. Hated the peace he found when he was with him. Guilt would claw its way up his throat.
He wasn’t worthy to be talking to Cas. To be in the same room as Cas. He was the one who had dragged him to Earth even as Cas pulled him from Hell. And Cas kept choosing him over and over. And as much as Dean hated it… he loved it. He loved him. Not that he would ever allow himself the pleasure of saying it out loud.
When the nightmares came, it was always Cas who answered his screams. Even if they were silent, pleas spoken within his soul, the angel would come.
He would jerk awake, his heart pounding and body paralyzed. Sometimes it would take him a few seconds to know where he was, sometimes it would take him several minutes. Cas always seemed to know, almost instinctively, what he needed. When he wanted to be touched, wanted to have something real and solid to ground him. When he wanted to be left alone, just have someone else in the room to help him through it.
Sometimes, providing there wasn’t a danger of Sam walking in, he would ask Cas to crawl into the bed with him. It was just brotherly, he wasn’t kidding himself about that, but it made all the difference. In the angel’s arms, he felt safe, he felt home. He knew the nightmares couldn’t hurt him then.
The last time Cas had come into his room, had saved him from himself, was the day he was taken.
That time had been different.
Cas had softly opened the door as usual, crossed the room quickly and laid a hand on his forehead. Everything had been so easy between them since Purgatory, even with all the pain swirling through the halls of the Bunker. He’d whispered a few soft words and smoothed back Dean’s sweat slicked hair.
It was then that Dean woke up, the feeling of a blade still heavy in his hand. Cas whispered to him softly, bringing him back to his room, far away from the torments of that place. Something had been different in the air though. It was so sweet between them, so open, that Dean hadn’t even hesitated before scooting over and making room for Cas on the bed.
As soon as the angel was settled, he snuggled into him, wrapping his entire body around him. They didn’t normally get this close. It was easier to pretend it was platonic otherwise.
After some time, Dean whispered, “Thanks, Cas.”
He could feel the tightness in his muscles still, the panic that had seized him so completely. But it was starting to go away. He felt like he could breathe again, Cas’ scent filling his mind and drowning out the acidic smell of Hell.
“Of course.”
“I-,” Dean started before taking a deep breath and nestling further into Cas, “You make it easier.”
Cas just nodded against Dean and pulled him in closer.
“Cas?” Dean asked sleepily, his limbs almost free of that heart-stopping anxiety.
“Yes?”
“What if Chuck wins?”
He felt Cas’ grip tighten around him immediately and he let himself fall into it, completely encircled by Cas’ warmth- no, it wasn’t even warmth. With Cas it was just a bubble of pure energy that crept into Dean, making him feel whole.
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Cas sighed, his hot breath falling on Dean’s neck and sending shivers down his spine. “You and Sam have saved the world again and again. If anyone stands a chance against-”
“And you.” Dean interrupted without thinking, drinking in the feeling of Cas pressed against him.
“What?”
This time when he answered, he was more alert, more insistent. “And you. You help us save the world, Cas. No- Dammit,” he paused, searching for the words. “You don’t just help, Cas. You are a part of this team, of this family, in every way. You’ve done more for us than anyone, and you’ve sacrificed even more for the entire world. Hell, you probably care more than Sam and I combined.”
Cas was silent. Completely silent. Not even his breathing made a sound. After he hadn’t responded or even moved for a while, Dean shifted and looked up at him. His eyes were gleaming, swimming with tears. None of them spilled over the edge though, just made his blue eyes shine in the dark.
“I mean it,” he said firmly. Then he let his head fall back onto Cas’ chest, loathe to lose Cas’ eyes but missing the feeling of him.
When Cas finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, even lower and scratchier than usual. “Thank you, Dean.”
“What if we do win?” Dean said. His anxiety was all but gone and a sense of peace and hope was taking its place. He liked feeling this way, as little as it happened.
Cas cleared his throat before he answered, and when he did his voice was back to normal. “What do you mean?”
“What next? Sammy will probably want out… he could settle down with Eileen, be happy. He wouldn’t have to be all out either, they could do small hunts on the side. Who knows what Jack will do. What about you, though?” Dean squeezed out the last question quickly, afraid of the answer. He couldn’t keep going, even if the world was safe, without Cas by his side.
“What do you plan on doing?” Cas responded.
Dean snorted, leave it to Cas to totally avoid the question. But he let his eyes fall shut and hooked his leg further through Cas’. It didn’t feel weird… it just felt natural. “Don’t know yet. I think I’ll keep hunting. But,” he took a deep breath and tensed up a little, “But I’d need someone to hunt with.”
He craned his neck up again to see a soft smile on Cas’ face. As he watched, it became more devious, more snarky. That emotion looked good on Cas, even though he almost never wore it.
“Perhaps you could get Garth to come out of retirement. He seemed awfully fond of you.”
Dean laughed softly and traced his hand across Cas’ chest slowly. “Would you, though?”
“Hunt with Garth? I don’t know. He never seemed too fond of me.” Cas’ voice was laced with sarcasm and Dean couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face.
“No, asshole. Would you,” the words choked in his throat, but he coughed them up all the same, “Would you hunt with me?”
Cas brought a hand to cover his and Dean let his hand still, the steady weight of Cas’ hand impossibly warm against his skin. “Of course.”
“Cas-” he immediately broke off. He didn’t know what it was about tonight. Why he felt so comfortable next to the angel, why the room felt so peaceful, so hopeful, why he thought he could actually have this--but he wanted to tell him. He could tell him.
Cas seemed to sense there was more to say and he kept silent, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over Dean’s hand.
“Cas, I want to tell you something.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I know, I just-” he took another deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. “You have to promise me you won’t hate me. Or leave me.”
“What did you do?” Cas said haltingly.
“No- I didn’t- It’s not like that.”
“Okay. I promise.”
A little weight left Dean’s chest, but a part of him didn’t believe Cas. Of course he would leave him. It would be too weird, too tense, when he didn’t feel the same way. But he had to tell him. Even if it meant getting his heart broken.
“I’m in love with you.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d even formed them, slurring together like his jumbled nerves.
Cas tensed underneath him and mentally he cursed. He tried to untangle himself but Cas pulled him back in. The angel was shaking slightly beneath him now, but he had no idea why. When he looked up into Cas eyes, they were brimming with tears again and there was a strange expression on his face. It was almost wonder, but it was so fearful too.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have-”
“I love you too.”
A million emotions crowded into Dean’s heart. Joy, love, happiness, but mainly confusion. “Then what’s wrong?”
Cas chuckled bitterly, and this time a tear did escape his eyes, tracking slowly down his face. Dean watched it in fascination, tempted to wipe it away but afraid of ruining it’s journey. “I never thought- dammit, Dean,” he said softly.
Dean raised himself up breathlessly until his face was just inches from Cas. He didn’t know what was wrong. Cas’ eyes revealed nothing. Or they revealed too much. There was too much in them to read. Too much pain, too much love, too much terror. But above it all, above all the swirling emotions, was one feeling. Want.
So Dean kissed him. Softly at first, their lips barely brushing together. Then Cas responded like his life depended on it, like he would never have this chance again. Dean smiled into the kiss, letting the electricity course through him, letting it overwhelm him.
When they broke apart, Cas just smiled sadly at him.
“I love you, Dean Winchester,” he said, his eyes drifting over Dean’s shoulder to look behind him.
Dean followed his gaze and his heart stopped. “What the fuck?”
Standing with a smirk on her face was Meg. Well… it looked like Meg. But one glance at her told Dean it couldn’t be. There was something ancient about her eyes, something immensely powerful that no mere demon could possess.
“My, my, Castiel. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon.”
He looked back at Cas, a desperate question in his eyes. But Cas didn’t look at him, just cast his eyes down, his expression lost.
“Didn’t think the great Dean Winchester would be able to get over years of repression, but yet here we are. You ready to go, sunshine?”
“Shut up,” Dean spat immediately. “What are you talking about?”
He untangled himself from the bed and stood to face her.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
He looked back to Cas, who finally raised his watery eyes to meet Dean’s, standing next to the other side of the bed to face him. “Cas, what’s she talking about?”
“I made a deal to save Jack,” he said bitterly. “I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, Cas.”
“The Empty,” he nodded briefly toward Meg, “Could have me as soon as I was truly happy.”
Dean let his eyes flick to Meg- the Empty, a snarl on his face. But she just smiled broadly back. Then he blinked and she was across the room, a hand on Cas’ shoulder.
“Say goodbye, boys.”
“I love you,” Cas said, tears now flowing freely from his eyes.
“No, dammit, take me instead. You can’t-” Dean took a shaky breath and realized his own eyes were getting wet. “You can’t take him.”
“I’m afraid you’re no prize next to the angel who played God. Sweet of you to say though,” she said. Then she started to fade, Cas with her.
"Goodbye, Dean." Something clenched in his chest, his heart being shattered into a million pieces.
“No!” Dean launched himself across the bed, desperately grabbing for Cas. “I love you,” he screamed as his hands landed on nothing. Just empty air. Empty air and no angel.
He just stood there. Probably for hours. His mind was still playing catch up but his body was in shock. Cas was- Cas was gone. And they hadn’t even fought Chuck yet. Cas was gone and he had no clue how to get him out. Cas was gone because he’d made a stupid deal to save their son.
Cas was gone and he’d loved him back.
The nightmares never left after that. Hell consumed his every moment, waking or not. Cas had made them so much better. He’d raised him from Hell time and time again. But now there was no one to pull him out. No one to pull him out of the dreams, the memories.
Castiel was gone and Dean Winchester was damned.