Chapter Text
He's standing over their bodies - Sam's and Cas's. Cas's wings are unfurled, broken and bleeding and half covering Sam, protecting him. Dean's name is on Cas's lips - and it's his fault that any of this happened, that these two are dead. Unclenches his hand and lets the knife drop to the floor. His head's not that clear, yet, but his arm is burning like it's been set on fire. Doesn't take a genius to guess what that means. Turns, slowly - as if to leave, though he isn't sure he'll ever be able to leave these two - and he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
Black eyes.
He nearly falls out of bed with how fast he sits up. He's gasping like he's just run a marathon, and his heart's slamming in his chest. Stumbles, almost falls, out of bed and staggers across the room. Shoves his entire hand into the jar of salt on the table and waits for the burn.
It doesn't come.
Slower, now, he turns toward the mirror. Looks down at first - what is he going to do, if he sees black eyes? - but he can't put it off forever. Looks up -
And falls to his knees. There are tears in his eyes, and he can't even bring himself to care. He's too relieved, to grateful, to be ashamed. His eyes aren't black. He's not a demon.
Cas finds him, a few hours later, ringed in salt.
There's the telltale whoosh of wings, and then Cas is perched on the edge of the bed, staring at him with some strange mixture of confusion and concern.
"Dean? Is something wrong?"
He starts - he may have been dozing, just a little - and shakes his head. Clears his throat. "No, I - why would you think something's wrong?"
"You're sleeping in a salt circle and there's a demon trap painted on the ceiling."
Looks up - fuck, he doesn't remember putting that there, how did it get there - and swallows. "I -"
Cas takes a step across the circle and lifts Dean up until he's standing. Tries to stand on his own - but his knees are weak and he nearly falls, so Cas holds him up by his elbows and stares into his eyes, searching for something.
"Was it . . . a nightmare?"
Nods mutely. Cas stares at him for a long moment - and then pulls him outside of the circle, outside of the demon trap. Dean's gone rigid, waiting for the inevitable to happen - for his eyes to turn black, for the mark to take over, for him to hurt Cas -
"Your eyes are fine, Dean. There's no black."
And - that's it. That's exactly what he needed to hear. Sags against Cas and just lets himself be held up. Cas tugs him over to the bed and helps him lay down and then - and then gets in bed with him.
Dean's not drunk enough for this.
Cas rolls onto his side and stares at Dean again, and it's a little unsettling. Cas always seems to see right through him, right through all the defenses Dean's built up over the years, and Dean doesn't like it. Wants to go back to how it was before all of this happened - Cas oblivious, Sam innocent, Dad alive.
"Dean. You can talk to me."
He's so fucking earnest, and it tears at Dean's heart.
"It's nothing, Cas." He hates lying, always has, but he doesn't want to deal with this right now. Wants to curl back up under his blankets and go to sleep and not dream, for once, but he knows that's not going to happen.
"Dean, would you like me to put you to sleep?"
Cracks a smile. Feels fake. "What, you mean Nyquil is one of your wacky angel powers?"
Cas blinks. "I don't get that reference."
Sighs and lays his head back down. "Yeah. Uh." Clears his throat. "Sleep would be pretty damn great, right about now, actually."
"Alright, Dean. I hope you feel better in the morning. If you need anything, I'm here to talk."
Opens his mouth to say something - but then Cas waves his hand and the world goes dark.
Wakes up curled against Cas's chest. Sucks in a breath. His heart's slamming like crazy against his chest and he's scared to move, afraid that this is all just a dream.
"Oh, good, you're awake. How do you feel?"
Pulls back and sits up. Runs a hand through his hair and swallows past the lump in his throat.
"Fine. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Cas's eyebrows are pinched together, and he's thoroughly unconvinced, But he's respecting Dean's space, not making him talk, letting him take things at his own pace.
Dean wishes that, just for once, Cas would force him to talk. It'd be a hell of a lot easier, he thinks, if he could just say exactly what he feels - but he's never been good with emotions, and Cas isn't the best at being human (even if Dean thinks he's the most human out of any of them, sometimes), and Dean's got this gut-wrenching fear of hurting him. Cas is everything that's good in his life, besides Sammy, and Dean's not willing to risk that over some stupid crush.
"Yeah, I'm sure." His voice is a little rougher than he likes, but he's just going to have to deal with it. "Did you stay the whole night?"
"Of course." Cas says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You were upset. I couldn't leave you alone."
"I thought -" Clears his throat. "I thought Heaven needed you right now."
"One night won't hurt." Cas is smiling at him, all soft and gentle, and it's tearing at Dean's heart even more. He doesn't deserve this, this kind and thoughtful and beautiful angel. Doesn't deserve to be looked at like he's something special. He's not. He's fucked up, in too many ways to count, and it's slowly tearing him apart. He's got so much baggage - the thought of having a relationship, now, is ridiculous. It's impossible to shake the dreams, the utter hopelessness that comes from knowing he was a demon. He's trying, though - trying damn hard to be the older brother that Sam deserves.
"Right." Clears his throat again and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Well, you can help me cook breakfast. Pancakes okay for you?"
"Pancakes sound wonderful, Dean."
And - he's never going to get over the way Cas says his name. It's reverent, almost, and Dean's never been the religious type, but when Cas says his name it sounds like a prayer.
Damn it, he's too sober to deal with this.
He's just - he's going to walk into the kitchen, with Cas, and make pancakes like there's not a damn thing wrong in the world. He's going to cook food for Sam and joke around and pretend that last night never happened, because it needs to not happen again.
He's going to be okay.
Eventually.