Chapter Text
Cas is waiting for them in the bunker. Because of course he is. How the hell does he get in when they're not there? Dean doesn't remember giving him a key. He'll have to give Sammy hell about that one, handing out keys to their secret batcave.
He says nothing as they come in from the garage. Dean's been watching the tiredness creep into Sam's face over the last full on day of driving, the red in his eyes and the grim determination in his face. He'd let Sam drive because he couldn't turn off the noise in his head, way too loud to ignore and way too dangerous for him to be behind the wheel.
Sam nods at Cas as he walks right by, heading straight for his room and his mattress made of cement.
Dean's suddenly terrified of being alone in a room with Cas.
"Dean."
Dean nods too, wishing for his body to keep moving, trying to get his legs to follow Sam down the hall to their sleeping quarters, even if he'll have to go the long way because his are a hallway over from Sam's. It doesn't work. His feet stay rooted to the floor, right under the archway, his eyes stay locked with Castiel's, because Dean never could look away.
He clears his throat, trying to get words to work, too, but his whole body seems to have shifted into neutral, not taking any orders from the driver.
"I heard you."
Fear rears its ugly head and Dean still can't move, can't speak or even breathe, his lungs paralyzed just like the rest of him. He doesn't need to know what Cas heard, because there's only one thing it could be.
Dean just stands there, his heart thumping away merrily, so fast and weirdly felt in places like his neck and his hands and what the hell is wrong with him? Maybe he's dying. Maybe the mark is taking over his body. Maybe –
His eyes start working again. At least enough to blink, because he does it a few times as Cas approaches him, his head tilted like he's trying to understand some human thing that makes no sense.
"You're tired."
Cas is close now, and Dean's entire body is on fire, every single nerve ending lit up and the whole encyclopedia of human emotion tumbling its way through his limbs. He can't tell the terror from the anticipation, and all he can hope for is a quick death. A stroke, maybe. It seems like that would be fast and relatively painless. Certainly better than a heart attack, and besides, he knows how those feel – and that's not what this is.
His eyes follow Cas's two fingers as they reach for his forehead and the last thought he has before he falls is that he doesn't have to worry, Cas will catch him.