Chapter Text
Prologue: Jack Dies
Dean watches Cas walk away and tightly clutches at his bottle of whiskey. He takes a swig of the drink, letting the numbness wash over him and trying to calm the chaos in his heart and soul. The burn of it feels good. Better than the intense pain that Jack's death has brought on them. Jack, who was not even two years old — just a child who deserved a bigger and better life.
This is how it ends for hunters though, isn't it? Jack became one of them; a hunter, and there was no going back the moment that happened. Human, angel, or Nephilim, this was always his destiny. A messy, horrible end to his life.
Jack is gone.
The empty glass shakes in Dean's hand. He pours out another whiskey for himself, then another, and it goes on. He's not sure how long he's right there drinking, but everything is spinning and vague, and he just… he needs more. More of this numbness and detachment. A break from thinking of it all, until it gets to be too much.
He reaches for the bottle again, blinking hard to focus. He sees double of everything but he doesn't care. He just… just—
There's a hand on his. The whiskey bottle is pulled away from his grip, soft and slow, as a gentle voice speaks to him. Dean looks up to see Cas standing there. His voice seems oddly detached from his body and he's saying something else, but Dean can't tell what it is. He can't understand the expression on Cas's face because he can't think. Can't think of much, except that Jack is dead. Their kid is gone.
Gone, gone, gone.
"Hey," Cas whispers, and he sounds like a badly tuned radio. His hand sits on Dean's shoulder, patting him once. Soft and slow. His lips move, and this time, Dean makes sure to catch what Cas is saying.
"You should sleep. We have the funeral in the morning."
Funeral.
Once again, Dean's brain is on the fritz. Funeral. For a two-year-old. Meanwhile, Cas is coaxing Dean to get up, but Dean doesn't want to. Maybe if he doesn't move, something will happen. Jack might come back. Jack might be alive again and forgive Dean for being so shitty.
"Dean." Cas nudges him. "Come on."
"No."
There is a sigh, and Cas takes a seat next to him. Dean can see the sympathy in his eyes, and fuck you fuck you.
"Cas."
"I'm here for you." Cas is clear in his intent, staying put and ensuring that Dean isn't alone. "We'll leave when you feel ready."
Dean wants to ask him to fuck off, but he can't. He just can't get himself to say it — not to Cas.
Cas, with those blue eyes, those eyelashes, and those lips.
His warmth, his hugs, his voice.
Cas.
He blinks, trying to steady himself, but he can't think about much, except that he's also kinda glad that Cas is here.
He nods slowly, blearily. "Okay."
Cas gives him the softest smile as he settles himself right there next to Dean, here for him like he always has been. Like they always try to be for each other.
They've been sitting there for about an hour, quiet in each other's company. Cas had wanted to make Dean stop drinking, to get him to his room, but Dean won't listen, and Cas reckons he just needs to deal with his grief for now. So he stays there with Dean, keeping him company and lending him as much support as he can.
At long last, Dean pushes his glass away and makes to get up. Cas holds on to him, worried he will fall, but Dean stops in his tracks to shake Cas away. "I got it," he says.
Cas sighs. "No, Dean," he says, "you don't got it. Let me help you."
"Ugh." Dean grunts, trying to shake Cas away again, but too drunk to do so. "Go away," he grumbles.
"No," says Cas, staying put in his decision. Dean is in no state to even stand by himself, much less walk all the way back to his room without falling over and sustaining a serious injury.
"Why d'you gotta be a pain in my ass, man?" Dean asks him.
"Am I?"
Dean snorts and turns to Cas, green eyes blinking several times, probably to focus on his face. Then it all happens in a split second — in a fraction of a moment before Cas can even think further.
Dean leans forward, his face abruptly coming to rest way too close to Cas's. Their noses touch, Dean's lips hovering close to Cas's, and all Cas can think of is that he has been waiting for this moment for so long. So, so long.
Unfortunately, this is not the right time for it. Not when Dean is so drunk.
Cas catches himself in time and puts his hands on Dean's shoulders, gripping him hard before they can kiss.
Dean stops, and blinks.
"You're inebriated," says Cas. He wants to do it, he really, really wants to kiss Dean, oh God, but it needs to be at a time when Dean understands what's happening and is not in so much grief. Though their lives are seldom full of happiness, Cas is sure they will have the opportunity on a day that's better than this.
"Cas."
"Come on, Dean, you're drunk."
Dean snorts. "Y-Yeah, Captain Obvious." He buries a burp in the back of his palm and leans forward into Cas for a second time.
Cas stops him again. He gives Dean's shoulders a squeeze before standing up, heart full of longing. He doesn't want to leave, but he needs to, both for his and Dean's benefit. He feels guilty that he told Dean he'd stay, but is ultimately leaving. However, he doesn't think it's right to sit here anymore.
"Cas," Dean whispers again, begging and possibly hoping to get him to stay back, but Cas shakes his head.
"We should maybe talk about this when you're sober," he says. "I'm sorry, Dean."
He leaves the kitchen, watching Dean put his head down on the table as he accepts defeat. Cas wants things to get better, and he wishes they were, but right now it's not possible for them to pursue this, and that's the only thing he knows for sure.
