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If Dean Winchester could have just one thing go his way. JUST ONE THING. That would be enough. A simple salt and burn turns into a near death experience, a break to go see some wrestlers he enjoyed as a kid ends with one of them dying (that one may or may not being his first crush but let's not talk about that), and one stupid in the moment decision led to Castiel, angel of the freaking lord, becoming Lucifer’s meat suit. And you know what? Dean Winchester has decided to blame himself for all of it. And Dean Winchester has made a vow that he’s going to fix it or he’s going to die trying.
Sam had gone on a late night grocery run. They were stress eating, and stress drinking, and stress any other toxic thing less than physical harm at this point. (Although Dean had formed the habit of punching his leg to let out anger over the past few weeks.) Before heading out the door Sam had managed to convince his brother to get some rest. “It’s almost two am you need to something to run on.”
“I’ll make another cup of coffee.”
“We’re out.”
“How about some whisky? Where’s the hard stuff?”
“Dean.”
“Fine.” But he snuck the book he’d been reading into the bedroom with him.
Dean took out the flask that he kept filled with vodka in his sock drawer and laid down with the intention of finishing the last few chapters. Some witchy mumbo-jumbo was all he was getting but that's always better than nothing and like you probably inferred: Dean Winchester was desperate.
Things were getting blurry and translating from latin was starting to get hard. He needed sleep (not that he’d admit it) and by the looks of things, it’d take someone like Rowena to do the spell anyway. Too bad Lucifer probably had her dead by now. Dean went to take another sip of the flask but in a mis-calculated movement poured the whole thing onto his lap. The alcohol began to soak through the pages but he just threw the book off his bed and tried to milk out whatever vodka was left. Nothing. “God damnit, Cas!” He threw it too and sat on the ground with his back against the bed, looking up. “Oh who am I kidding.” He rested his cheek on his hand and looked at the floor through the space between his legs. “Hey buddy, have your ears on?”
“Dean?” Castiel could hear the words reverberating around the small part of himself he managed to lock Lucifer out of, just next to where the prayers come through. If he catches it early enough and uses quite a bit of strength he’d be the only one who could hear. All of his strength was almost gone now but it was Dean and Dean's always worth it. Cas pulled the prayer up to him and laid down next to it.
“So you know I still suck at this shit so just bare with me, okay?” Dean waited a few seconds for a reply he knew he wasn’t going to get.
“Of course.”
“Sammy and I, well we’re still kicking and I guess that's all we can ask for these days. We haven’t found a way to get Lucifer out of you but that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop. We’re- I’m going to save you, Cas. If it's the last thing I do. Um Amara’s a lost cause too. She’s off the radar, hopefully causing chaos on some other planet but we’re never that lucky are we. Could you hear me when I was talking to you about her? Talking to Lucifer about her I guess.”
“Yes.”
“I could tell something was up when you put your hand on my shoulder. That's not a casual thing anymore. When you were still here you were scared of me, don’t deny it I could sense it, and when I wrapped you in that blanket or held you in that warehouse you flinched. Not that I wouldn’t want you to put your hand on my shoulder. Actually… I’d like you to. And you know what? Fuck it you can’t hear me right now anyway; I’d like you to kiss me too. Why the hell would you ever say yes to that dip shit? Look how you left me!”
“I shouldn’t expect you to understand,” Cas went to push away the prayer.
“Look, I’m sorry.” He brought his hand back. “I need you Cas. Okay I need you. And when I say that I mean that because between you and me I don’t say enough. And I’m so bad with words. Christ you’re probably so frustrated with me right now. You’re probably yelling to stop holding everything back. I mine as well. Hell, I’m not getting any younger and you're in, well you’re in hell, so here it goes. Cas, I just want to die.”
“Dean…”
“But don’t worry. I’m not going to going to go call up the demon hotline and take the easy way out. I’ve got some some stuff I need to fix. Starting with you. You’re first on that list. I feel some damn guilty, Cas. God. Your dad’s a freakin douche bag not helping us. You already know that though. If we ever see the guy I’m gonna punch him more than once for every time he’s disappointed you. You didn’t deserve that, you didn’t deserve any of this, you shouldn’t have pulled me out of hell. I could have rotted away in there and none of this would have happened. Give me a way and I’d switch places with you right now. I’m willing to be Lucifer’s bitch if it means you’re okay. I look in a mirror and I hate myself. What would Dad think of me? Friends with a werewolf, having a threesome with a demon, and crushing on some guy angel for over eight years. Pathetic. The way I feel when I look at you. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”
“Dean.”
“Goodnight, Cas.” The prayer faded away.