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When Dean sleeps, he dreams. Not of fairytales and pink ponies or a laid-back vacation in Tahiti, but of gurgled screams and rivers of blood. His waking mind yearns for the smooth slice of blade against skin, a neck perhaps, right across the jugular, leaving blood roses splattered across grey pavement. However, these daytime fantasies seem almost like child’s play when compared to his dreams.
Cain’s words constantly taunt him, repeating over and over in his head. And like a foretold prophecy, he dreams of killing Crowley first. In his nightmare, Dean backs the King of Hell into a corner, cowering and scared in Dean’s presence, begging for the first and last time in his life to not be killed. But mercy isn’t on Dean’s mind today, only revenge and retribution, taken from the satisfaction of the bloodied demon’s corpse. Crowley was never a friend, only a pawn in his game. Dean doesn’t need him anymore, so he is eliminated.
Cas flies into his dream next, a sparking bolt of electricity, armed and dangerous. He looks beautiful, ethereal as always and what Dean really wants to do is stride across the room and kiss him, finally. Dream!dean though has other ideas. Killing Cas is the last thing Dean would ever want to do, but still he jams the first blade into Cas’s heart and watches, pleased when Cas crumples to the ground dead. Inside his mind the real Dean is yelling, pounding at the walls of his head begging for this to end. Tears slide down his cheeks, making pale tracks in the spray of blood. Dean is pretty sure this cannot get any worse.
He’s wrong.
Sam appears, demon knife clenched in his hand, looking like the scared little boy Dean told monsters existed so many years ago. Dean knows what’s coming, he knows from Cain’s own words he will kill Sam last. He can’t do it, he won’t. Never. But somehow, despite yelling, screaming at the top of his lungs, and pleading to wake up from this hell, Dean watches himself kill his brother and then step over his dead body into the darkness, leaving the lifeless bodies of the two people he loves most in this world on the cold, damp ground.
Dean wakes up, thrashing around in bed, arms flailing and yelling at the top of his lungs. He freezes upon realizing that he finally, finally escaped the nightmare, sliding back up against the headboard of his bed, curling himself into a ball. Tears start pouring out of his eyes, leaving drop marks on the pristine sheets. He buries his head in between his knees and sobs.
There’s a knock at the door, and then another, the second more hesitant than the first, so quiet Dean barely hears.
“Dean? Are you alright?” Cas asks softly from the other side of the door.
Dean contemplates lying, telling Cas that yeah he’s totally fine, everything’s fine and dandy, but for once he doesn’t have the energy. He’s done pretending everything’s fine.
“No.” Dean chokes out, voice scratchy from the combined yelling and crying.
“May I come in?”
“Door’s open.” Dean says. He frantically tries to wipe off some of his tears with the edge of the comforter. He sits up straight in bed, clasping his hands awkwardly in his lap, purposefully
Cas’s eyes when he enters the room. Dean squeezes his hands together until they go white, taking deep breaths in and out.
“What’s wrong?” Cas asks, stopping a few feet away from Dean’s bed. Dean can feel Cas’s eyes boring under his skin, searching him.
“I had a nightmare,” Dean states.
Cas frowns, moving to sit down on the bed near Dean’s knee. His hand hovers over the comforter, confused as to where to go, before he rests it on the soft fabric.
“Tell me what happened.”
Dean sighs, fidgeting with his hands, before finally raising his eyes to look at Cas. “When I was fighting Cain, he told me I was living his life in reverse. That I would kill Crowley, then you and then Sam. I know he was trying to manipulate me, but his words, they’ve been rolling around in my head ever since we got back. I dreamed about it, killing you guys. Crowley, I don’t really care if I kill him, he’s a douche. But you and Sam...” He pauses, eyes darting back down to his hands. “I was screaming, I wanted to wake up so bad, but I couldn’t. I killed you and I didn’t care, I stepped over your dead bodies and didn’t even flinch. I was a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Dean.”
Dean chuckles, coldly, “Yeah, well, if I keep going at this rate, I will be.”
“No. Sam and I, we won’t let that happen.”
“What if it does?” Dean protests. “Cause I barely got through that fight alive, let alone myself, so how the hell are you so sure I am not going to become like Cain.”
“You won’t. You have Sam, you have me and we are here for you.”
Dean snorts, choosing not to reply. He’s pretty sure if he turns into a walking hurricane of slashing knives and bloodlust, Sam and Cas won’t be alive to stop him let alone have his back.
The nightmare is still fresh in his mind, he can still hear the crunch of bones against his shoes and the stench of blood thick in the air. God, he just wants it all to end.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Cas asks.
Dean huffs. “No, there’s nothing you can do. I just gotta get out of my own damn mind.”
Cas sits there, silently, staring at him with that soul-searching gaze of his. Dean doesn’t know what else to say to him, there’s nothing he can say, he knows what he is going to turn into regardless of what Cas seems to think. It’s inevitable.
“Dean, I have an idea.”
“About the Mark?”
Cas shakes his head. “No. We should go somewhere.”
Dean glances over at the clock on his night stand. 1:04 am. He narrows his eyes. “Uh, Cas, it’s one in the morning where would we go?”
“Are you hungry?” Cas asks, ignoring Dean’s question.
“Yeah? But I don’t underst-” Cas grabs Dean’s hand and pulls him up so he is sitting upright in bed. “What are you doing?!”
“You told me sometime ago that I needed to take you out, so that’s what I’m doing.”
~~~
A very confused Dean and a twenty minute car ride later, Dean and Cas are sitting across from one another at the only restaurant that is open at this early of an hour: Biggerson’s. They’re practically alone, the only other patrons traveling truckers and teenagers going out for a late night meal. It’s weird. Dean is still in his pajamas and Cas’s coat is wrinkled to hell and they probably look like they just got done fucking twenty minutes ago. Dean is still extremely confused as to why Cas wants to “take him out” in the first place. He’s grateful though, Biggerson's may be a chain restaurant but they have an extensive burger menu Dean has learned to appreciate over the years.
“Why are you doing this?” Dean asks as he scours the menu for the double bacon cheeseburger.
“I thought it might help take your mind off things,” Cas replies. He’s holding the menu like it’s a goddamn piece of ancient parchment that would rip into two if he held onto it too tightly. He’s so calm and Dean’s wound up tight like a rubber band ready to snap. It almost makes him angry how natural Cas seems with this.
“Yeah, okay I get that, but why?”
Cas sets his menu down, folding it neatly back up, crossing his hands over the top. “Because you are hungry, so obviously you should eat something.”
“Cas,” Dean groans, “You know what I mean, you didn’t have to do this, so why the fuck are you?”
“Because I care.” He states plainly, as if those three words aren’t suppose to make Dean forget how to breathe.
“Oh, well you shouldn’t.” Dean shoots back, pulling up the menu and pretending to seem intently engrossed in the five different kinds of blue cheese the restaurant offers on their burgers.
“So you’ve told me before, yet I still do,” Cas replies.
Dean peeks over the top of the menu with one eye and Cas is smiling, it’s a little smile but a smile nonetheless.
“When you say “care,” you mean?” Dean asks, trailing off.
“I love you. I thought that was obvious,” Cas says.
It’s so simple, so easy and no, not obvious at least not to Dean. He never dreamed he would hear those three words pass Cas’s lips, but they did and he doesn’t know what to do other than sit there with his mouth flapping open and closed like a fish out of water.
“You - you - what?” Dean sputters.
“I love you,” Cas says again.
Dean freezes, the words hitting him again, sinking into his skin and finding a home. The Mark burns against his arm, an unwelcome reminder of what he is and who he will become. He can’t do this.
“Well, don’t.”
He runs. Bursting out the door and into the parking lot before he even gets the chance to order. He’s running and he doesn’t know where he’s running to, only that he needs to get as far away from Cas as he can before he fucks up and hurts him. Because when Dean loves someone, they either end up dead or too broken to be repaired. Dean won’t subject Cas to that, he doesn’t deserve that after all he’s already given up.
“Dean, wait!” Cas yells. Cas is running after him, his feet pattering out of time with Dean’s on the hard pavement. Dean keeps running until the lights from the town are gone and he’s swallowed up by the darkness of the plains. He’s getting tired now, breath coming out in white puffs in the air around him. A car pulls up behind him and without turning around he knows it’s Cas.
“Dean,” Cas says, driving up alongside Dean, keeping pace with him.
Dean stops running, panting heavily, guilt and anxiety twist knots around in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Cas I-”
“Get in,” Cas interrupts. His eyes are flashing blue and gold from hurt or anger Dean can’t tell, but Dean knows better than to argue. He gets in the car, crowding up against the door, as far away from Cas as he can. He curls in on himself, staring out at the empty, black expanse of land.
“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean whispers when he can no longer take the silence.
“You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”
Dean looks over at him. Cas is staring at the road in front of him, lips set into a thin line. Dean has never seen him this upset, he can feel his heart breaking just looking at him.
“No, you don’t. It’s not that I don’t feel the same way, because I do. I just... I can’t... I can’t do this. Not now. Not while I’m like this.”
Cas pulls off to the side of the road and looks at him, just stares, eyes wide and wholly blue again. Dean feels a gush of relief as some of the sadness disappears from Cas’s face.
“I don’t care what you are Dean, my love for you will not change.”
“I know, but that’s not what I’m saying. You’re already in danger as is and I can’t... I won’t hurt you. If we... were together, you’d be more at risk and I’m not going to put you in harm’s way. I just won’t.”
“What if I don’t care?” Cas asks, reaching over and covering one of Dean’s hands with his own.
“Then you’re a stupid and self-sacrificial bastard.”
“That sounds about right,” Cas answers, lips tipping up into a smile.
“But I care though, so we can’t, not yet. If... if we both come out of this alive then I want this, I do, but not until then, okay? I just can’t.”
Cas nods, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I understand. I can wait.”
Dean offers him a little smile, the weight off his shoulders lessening a little.“Thanks.”
“I do have one request though, if it’s alright with you” Cas says after a moment.
“What?”
“Can I kiss you? So I will know what it feels like just in case I never get to.”
Dean gulps, nodding slowly, “Yeah, that’s alright.”
Cas smiles happily and Dean feels a warm palm rest against the side of his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, basking in the warmth. Even with Cas’s dwindling grace,grace still floods out from Cas’s touch against Dean’s skin, sinking in all the way to his soul. His eyes flick open, blinking slowly, taking in the blue of Cas’s eyes. Then Cas is kissing him and Dean has never been more overwhelmed. It’s the most innocent of kisses, Dean hasn’t been kissed like this since he was fourteen, just a soft, pressing of Cas’s lips against his. But it’s perfect and somehow still manages to take his breath away.
They only kiss once, just like Cas asked, but they hold hands the entire drive back to the bunker. Once out of the car Cas releases his hand. He remains close, walking right against Dean’s side, their shoulders bumping every few seconds as they go up the stairs. It’s nice and Dean revels in every little touch he gets.
Dean has a glimpse of happiness and he’s not letting that slip out of his fingers. Whenever he thinks he is going to lose control, when the mark is shooting flames down his arm pleading with him to kill, he will remember this and what he can have if he beats this curse.
He and Cas are still a chance, a what if, but one day they could be definite.