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Castiel, having lost his grace and fallen from Heaven, had come to live with the Winchesters in the Men of Letters bunker. A skilled fighter and warrior of God, he felt he was best suited to join his friends as a hunter of the supernatural. He, Sam, and Dean had a history. They had worked together before, though sadly their past goals at times had been at odds. When Dean had offered him the opportunity to stay with the two brothers he graciously accepted. Besides, where else would he go? Who else would have him?
He had lived in the bunker for several months; In time he learned the patterns of everyday life, the intricacies of the human condition. His observations were different from those he'd once made as part of the Holy host. His experiences felt somehow more visceral than they had once been. His decisions and thoughts were influenced more by emotion than the calm and calculating intellect he once possessed.
With this new perception in mind Castiel revisited the things he had taken for granted, the things he had known but never fully understood. He had once marveled at all of God's creation but never grasped the complexities of the creations of man. He slowly began to catch the cultural, television, book, and movie references that had evaded him in the past. Yet nothing stirred him as much as music.
Castiel was familiar with Dean’s musical preferences but wished to explore other genres. Sam had leant Cas his iPod, loaded with a wide variety of music. On slow days with no hunts or research to be done, laundry and other bunker chores out of the way he would sit in the library with headphones and silently listen. Engrossed in the lyrics and musical stylings of different recording artists, he would often find a tune that captivated him, caused him to think, and spoke to him on a highly emotional level. Deep emotions were tricky. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with them or the feelings some songs stirred in him.
On one particularly uneventful day Dean found Cas slouched in a chair in the library of the bunker looking rather somber. If he had been completely honest in his assessment he would say downright depressed.
“Why so glum Cas?” Dean asked. “You look like someone just killed your best friend,”
When Cas' shoulders began to slump he quickly added “Okay maybe I shouldn't have put it that way. That would be me and I'm obviously still here.” Dean placed a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder.
“I've been listening to Sam's music.”
“What hipster emo crap does he have you listening to?”
“Death Cab for Cutie”
“Really Cas?” Dean huffed.
“I've had the same song on repeat for the last hour”
.
“Why the hell would you do that? That's worse than drinking alone!”
“The song resonates with me,” Cas responded, his gravely voice low and despondent.
“Well it doesn't look like it's having a good effect. Usually people listen to music to feel better.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Reaching out his hand towards Cas, Dean commanded, “Give me the headphones, let me hear what has you so down.”
Cas passed Dean the headphones and side eyed him as the other man placed the earbuds in his ears. While Dean listened, Cas looked around the bunker and reflected on the vulnerability that now defined him, no longer an angel confined to a vessel, he had become that vessel, a man.
Dean listened, awareness dawning with a slow, thoughtful expression that morphed into a look of understanding, and then discomfort.
The voice of Benjamin Gibbard echoed in his ears and Cas’ thoughts.
-I'm starting to feel
We stay together out of fear of dying alone-
Cas sat hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs and hands dangling between his knees. Then he spoke.
“I'm beginning to think I shouldn't be intruding on what you and Sam have here. It's comfortable and familiar though. That's why you tolerate my presence isn't it? Our friendship is comfortable, it's familiar to you as well?”
Dean began to respond but Cas continued to talk, responding to the lyrics he heard in his head. Okay, Dean thought to himself, obviously Cas’ question was rhetorical.
-I've been slipping through the years,
My old clothes don't fit like they once did.
So they hang like ghost of the people I've been-
“I have nothing to offer you and that troubles me. I'm just a shadow of the person, the being I once was,” he said, voice tinged with sadness.
The lyrics were a sorry reminder.
“I cannot heal you. I cannot save you. I have nothing to offer.”
-It's like my heart can't be tamed
I fall in love every day
And I feel like a fool-
“I feel like I fall more everyday. After I left the host I didn't think it was possible to fall any more, yet I find myself drawn to you. And it feels like I'm drowning, suffocating, missing something, because despite having nothing to offer I feel like there must be something here for me. And yet, that can't be. How can there be anything for me when I have nothing of value to offer in exchange?”
-I have to face the truth
That no one could ever look at me like you do
Like I'm something worth holding on to-
“You look at me as if I'm important, like I've always been important, as if I matter despite my diminished grace, my fall to humanity. And when I see that, I can't look away even though I know it can't be real, can't be anything more than friendship.”
-I sometimes think of leaving but that's something I could never do-
Cas continues, “It's s a selfish feeling to want to hold on to.”
-'Cause you can do better than me
But I can't do better than you-
“But I know you can do better, that you don't need me.”
Dean sat quietly and absorbed the words that Cas had just uttered. He fought back the anger that surged through him at his friend’s lack of self worth. He had to set Cas straight, and if it meant that he had to man up to do it, so be it.
“You’re right Cas. Sam and I don’t need you, but we want you here. I want you here,” Dean paused and thought of how best to put what he had to say.
“Cas, man, caring about someone isn’t about what they can do for you.”
Dean gulped and steadied himself for the next thing he had to say, “Look at me Cas.”
Cas slowly raised his gaze to meet Dean’s eyes.
“When you love someone, none of that matters.”
Castiel continued to stare at Dean, not fully comprehending what his friend had been trying to say.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had been feeling this way Cas. I don’t handle emotional things well. I would have thought you knew that by now,” Dean gently chided. He reached for Cas’ face and cupped his cheek.
“Do you remember once before when I came to you for help fighting that Leviathan scum Dick Roman? You tried to convince me that you were bad luck. Do you remember what I said to you then?”
The ex-angel dropped his gaze. Dean gently shook Cas’ chin to regain his attention.
“When I said, I’d rather have you cursed or not, I meant it Cas. I meant it! Nothing’s changed for me. It doesn’t matter whether you’re an angel or human. It doesn’t matter if you can save me or what you can do for me. What matters is that you’re you.”
“Look, this is hard for me, but you need to hear it. I can’t let you go on thinking that you’re only needed if you’re useful. Like I said before, when you love someone, none of that stuff matters.”
Dean leaned forward and gave his friend a long hug.
“You’re needed Cas. You’re loved, I love you. I’m not sure what that means for us, but we’ll figure it out together.”
Cas relaxed into Dean’s embrace and whispered, “Thank you Dean.”
“You’re welcome Cas. Don’t forget what I said,” Dean murmured as he pulled away.
He handed the iPod and headphones back to Cas and smiled as he said, “Now that we have all that out in the open, why don’t you turn Sam’s emo music off and listen to something more uplifting? I don’t think I can handle many more emotional discussions today.”
Dean headed for the bunker’s kitchen. “Come on, put some Zeppelin on and I’ll make us some burgers.”
Cas felt much more at ease than he had in months. He smiled, somber mood lifted, and followed at his friend to the kitchen, “I think I’d like that.”