Chapter Text
Low light flickers over and across the angel Castiel's face as he tilts it to one side, lifting his eyes towards the man in his charge. He has been told that he was getting too close, has been sent back to Heaven on multiple occasions; each time returning colder. Harsh, as his mandate holds and requires him to be. Yet each time he returns, he comes and stays and begins to feel again.
This time he sits with, across from Dean Winchester, the righteous man he admitted having doubts to. The man who so recently was able to be...a true servant of Heaven in order to dispatch the Whore of Babylon. Dean shakes his head, emitting a sound from his throat that seems wet, choked. After which he swallows, licking his lips and dropping his own eyes down away from the angel's. "Y' wanna know something, Cas?" He asks like he needs an answer, needs Castiel to know.
"Of course, Dean," the angel responds sincerely. "I wish to know whatever you want to tell me."
Dean blinks at that, but his eyes soften even as his breath is sputtering. "-Okay, well. This ain't the worst spot we've been in, Sam or me." His tone of voice is rough and low. "I... for months, when I was about fifteen, I wasn't able to see him. Wasn't allowed. Got sent to a boys' home for pullin' a five-fingered discount. Dad left me in there 'cause -" Dean lifts and waves his right hand in the air, a tense flicker of muscle in his cheek preceding clearing throat. "Anyway, point is. There's times I wasn't with Sam, had to leave him, or I fucked up an' he got hurt or... almost died." Dean's voice now wobbles, and Castiel catches sight of liquid shine in his eyes prior to a spill onto the skin of his cheeks. "An' so, uh, about what I did, to the whore -" with a sniff Dean takes one hand to his face and swipes fingers down across his cheeks.
"- You would have done anything to keep your brother alive, and safe. That is and has always been your goal, and it is what prompted you on this occasion," Castiel speaks slowly.
"Yeah," Dean bobs his head. "Yeah, Cas. And I still will. As much as I can. 'S what Dad taught me: shoot first, ask questions later, watch out for Sammy. That an' saving people, hunting things is family business. 'S what we do." Dean pauses a moment, voice growing incredibly soft, infinitesimal as he continues "It's what I do. What I- all I'm good for." A long moment of his harsh breaths precedes him leaning back into the plush booth seat behind him. "Daddy's blunt instrument," he scoffs out with what Cas detects as bitterness, crossing his arms as his body slouches. The sight tugs at something within him, as do Dean's words. Some facet of what causes the angel to feel. He is sure it will be blasted into oblivion again; such an eventuality is all-too probable, and not by -or from- the power of a single archangel this time.
He is unclear upon what is happening, what precisely is to come for them, but what is abundantly clear to Castiel is that Dean is opening up to him. He is trusting Castiel enough to tell the angel all of this, to give an explanation for his actions. One that Castiel never required to be explained, never asked for. He had trusted Dean's convictions when Dean had said:
-This is simple, Cas! There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it. Look at me! You know it! And you were gonna help me once, weren't you? Before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Well help me now. Please!
-...What would you have me do?
-Take me to Sam. We can stop this before it's too late!
-If I do that, we will all be hunted, we'll all be killed!
-If there's anythin' worth dyin' for, this is it! And then, in the silence as he wrestled with himself, Dean spit You spineless, SOULLESS son of a bitch. We're done.
-Dean,
-I said we're done!
And yet Dean sits here now, across from him. Sharing something of himself, his past and childhood, because the angel was able, had come back to help. Something of Dean's self-perceived inability to properly care for Sam, his own mandate given by his father's will. It connects tenuously to what they must do on this occasion, somehow, muses the angel.
The light here, in this space, is warm and ruddy; it underlines and illumines the contours of peoples' faces. It casts a gold glow upon the full cheeks and lips, the sloping nose of Dean Winchester. Brightening his already gleaming green gaze, and the tracks of sorrow smudged mostly free from his face. Beautiful, Castiel thinks. Upon one already beautiful.
But he watches as Dean's hands twist in harsh movements, jerking a shining glass bottle to his lips and emptying it, rolling the now empty drinking vessel between both palms. He beckons for another drink as their food comes, that they'd ordered prior to his speech. Burgers. Castiel studies his, slowly lifting it from his plate and turning the food this way and that. Dean raises an eyebrow as he bites into his own. "Eat, buddy. It ain't gonna get up an' walk away on ya."
"I'm aware of that," the angel speaks sharply before his eyes narrow, head shifting as he holds the burger away from himself, tone lifting in bemusement. "I am simply curious as to whether or not I'll be compelled to devour as many of these as I did prior to our... run-in with Famine."
Dean grunts, cheeks puffed, mouth full. His jaw works as he chews and swallows before taking a second bite of his burger, air whistling out of his nose. "I highly doubt it, Cas," he offers, cheeks bulging again.
The angel offers a terse little nod. "Unfortunately, that's what I'm expecting," he takes a tiny bite, chews and swallows completely before continuing "...what I did not expect, and still puzzle over, was your - lack of reaction to Famine."
Dean gulps the last of his second bite before he starts to cough, pressing his wrist against his mouth whilst holding breath to stop the spasming of his throat and diaphragm. Jeez. "Whaddaya mean?" he finally manages. Because of course the guy has questions. He always has questions.
"I mean that I never noticed you acting differently," offers the angel calmly, pushing his untouched complimentary glass of water towards Dean across the table and receiving a sharp look in response, though said look is more likely in response to what he's asking. Nevertheless he continues "Sam and I both spent time being overtaken - or fighting against being overtaken - by the urges Famine magnified within us. The hungry desperation," his voice lowers as he watches Dean's face. His eyes flicker and jaw jumps. Softness hardens. Open becomes closed. How Dean shuts some of himself away, he sees that. Bears witness to it. "Yet you didn't share it."
"Ah I told ya I was well fed," he says lightly. As Cas's face drops, chin tucks and he widens his eyes to encourage Dean, the Winchester man smacks his lips, voice hardening as he keeps speaking. "But I was desperate too, alright? Desperate to stop that bastard. It was lucky for everybody I was able to get close enough to get 'im."
"...You weren't wanting for anything on that occasion," Castiel continues. "if it was, in fact, luck, which I doubt. You were helping everyone affected by Famine, so certainly that is -"
"Dammit, Cas -" slamming his hand to the surface of the table with a clashing sound as the glasses, plates, and silverware jump and rattle, Dean's voice rises to boom across the booths and tables nearby. The small quantity of patrons turn with quizzical looks and raised eyebrows. Dean smiles and waves before leaning closer to Cas, pushing his plate aside. He works to lower his voice and growls, practically hisses "-it's cause I'm dead inside. Okay? Famine said I wasn't... I didn't want anything when he was around. Wasn't hungry, so I didn't eat. Wasn't interested in, uh-" the angel's always-direct gaze suddenly makes Dean's face feel hot as a twisting feeling causes an ache in and below his stomach. He clears his throat, pressing both hands to the sides of his head before pushing fingers through his hair and dropping them sharply as emphasis. "He told me there's nothin' inside me, alright? That I'm just goin' through the motions." With a gulp and desperate gaze, eyes lifting and locking on the angel's, lips trembling as his voice very nearly does, "He said inside I'm... I'm already dead, Cas."