Chapter Text
Bobby's house was almost too small for two Winchesters and a renegade angel, but Castiel was doing his best to keep to himself and stay out of the way.
Sam and Dean had spent the first few days circling each other warily, but slowly seemed to be recovering from the strain the bond between them had suffered. Of all the things Castiel felt guilty about, the role he'd played in that while obeying Zachariah's orders ranked near the top. He'd attempted to leave them in peace to readjust to each other.
It was very difficult to be alone, however.
He'd never truly been alone before. He'd always been able to hear the voices of his brethren, singing, communicating, passing on orders. There had always been superiors, orders to follow, faith that those in command were doing the work given to them by their Father.
Now all of that was gone. There was nothing but terrible silence inside Castiel's mind, and he couldn't seem to adjust to it. Even Jimmy Novak's voice was gone now, the vessel's soul so badly damaged by the archangel's attack that Castiel had been forced to allow it to move on. Now there was nothing left. He was nothing: neither Fallen nor angel.
"Hey, here you are." Dean padded into Bobby's kitchen, barefoot, already stripped down ready for bed. "I barely saw you all day. You okay?"
"Fine," Castiel said. "There is no need for you to concern yourself."
"Yeah, you sound just peachy," Dean said sardonically. "What's wrong?"
Castiel explained haltingly, "I'm alone now. You're all so cut off from each other. How do you endure it, Dean?"
Dean's face showed sudden understanding. "You can't hear angel radio any more. I'm sorry, Cas, you should have told me sooner. No wonder you've been so quiet."
"I've never been alone before," Castiel admitted, lowering his eyes. "It is... difficult to adjust to."
"You're not alone," Dean told him, touching his shoulder. "Fuck knows I'm no angel, but you're not alone, Cas." He seemed to reach a sudden decision, and wrapped his hand around Castiel's wrist, fingers cool against the skin there. "Come on."
Castiel allowed Dean to lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the small guest room where Dean had been sleeping since they'd arrived at Bobby's house. He was surprised when Dean closed the door firmly behind them and pulled him down to lie on the bed with him. "Dean..."
"You used to come into my dreams a lot," Dean said. "Then after they dragged you back to bible camp you stopped. I thought you'd start coming back again now, but you haven't, these past few nights. How come?"
"After what I did..." Castiel started.
"After saving my ass and getting me out of that goddamn green room, you mean?" Dean asked. "Or holding off an archangel single-handedly so I could go after Sam? Or how about walking away from everything you've ever known to help me out?"
"I did terrible things," Castiel confessed. "To you and Sam both."
"And you made up for them," Dean told him. "Hey, I know what it's like to - to break, okay? I get it. You don't need to apologize to me for that. I know how Below can fuck someone up. Why should Above be any different, I guess."
Castiel shivered at the memory, and Dean's grip tightened around his wrist.
"You told me once that you liked coming into my dreams," Dean reminded him. "You said it was closer to the way angels communicate with each other."
"It is," Castiel said, "but -"
"No buts," Dean told him. "You're welcome in my dreams any time, you got that? You need me to get a gilt-edged invitation made up for you?"
"That won't be necessary," Castiel managed. There was a strange lump in his throat which made it hard to speak, suddenly.
"Good," Dean said.
They lay in silence in the dark for a moment before Dean added, "You're kind of right about humans being cut off from each other. Most of us don't have any way to communicate mind to mind, or touch each other's souls. But... we've got other ways of communing with the people we want to be close to." His hand slid from around Castiel's wrist and up his arm to touch his cheek.
Even in the darkness, Dean's eyes were vividly green when Castiel met his gaze. "I would like to be close to you," Castiel admitted.
Dean smiled, slow and sure, and leaned in to kiss him.
Sex with Dean was not like communing with another angel. And yet when Dean touched him, when Castiel pressed kisses to all of Dean he could claim, when ecstasy overtook them both... there was something holy there, and Castiel no longer felt alone.
Dean rested his head on Castiel's shoulder and fell asleep. Castiel brushed the hair out of Dean's eyes, and followed him into his dreams.