Fic: Supernatural:Dean/Future Cas: The Long Road Back (17/28)
Got a really long chapter for you guys this time :) I hope you enjoy :)
Special thanks to my beta weslyn
Title: The Long Road Back
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 later to be safe)
Chapters: 17/28
Warnings: gore,language,violence, drug use, eventual slash
Spoilers: only up to 5 X 4 (but you'll see me draw from information we found out later)
Characters/Pairings: focus on Dean/Future Cas but also Risa, Chuck, OC's, LuciferSam, and future Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine and I don't own anything but a few OC's and the errors.
Summary: AU 5 X 04 The End fic. In many ways this will be a fix it story (but not in all ways). Dean stops his future self from sending Cas and the others into a trap and Zachariah seems to be missing in action. Dean has to figure out where to go from here.
A/N: This fic has been consuming my brain in a good way. I really wanted to play around in this world, i love apocalyptic type settings, and i thought it would be a good way to keep myself busy during the hiatus. This story is going to have action,violence, and some death but the focus of this fic will be a slowly evolving love story in the middle of a world gone to hell between a certain hunter and a certain fallen angel. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.
Word count: 5516 (56,000 total)
Chapter One Chapter Eight Chapter 15
Chapter Two Chapter Nine Chapter 16
Chapter Three Chapter Ten
Chapter Four Chapter Eleven
Chapter Five Chapter Twelve
Chapter Six Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Seven Chapter Fourteen
Cas was leaning against the wall of their cabin listening to a battle of wills take place. Molly had arrived ten minutes ago to examine Dean’s leg. She’d been pleased because the swelling had gone down considerably, she’d then instructed him to keep it wrapped up tight, and to stay off his feet for a few days.
Dean hadn’t liked that idea. Cas had spoken to her earlier and told her to expect as much.
Molly had come prepared.
She’d marched back out through the beads, and returned carrying two crutches.
Dean had cringed and looked at them like they were poisonous snakes about to strike.
Now the war had started. Dean was a goner-he just didn’t know it yet.
“If you insist on getting up and moving around you will use these,” Molly’s normally soft voice had hardened. Dean was really pissing her off, which wasn’t something easily done.
“I said, I’m fine,” he slowly bent his injured knee up and down. “A little ibuprofen and I’m good to go.”
Molly shook her head, pointed her index finger at Dean’s nose, and growled, “That only masks the problem; you could injure yourself further by putting pressure on already strained ligaments. Since we’re back to living in the dark ages, a lot more guess work goes into diagnosing medical problems. I have no way of knowing how bad the sprain is.”
“I said I don’t need them. I’ve been banged up way worse than this; I know what I’m talking about.“ Dean started to push up off the bed.
Molly leaned in, her nose only inches from Dean’s face. “You will use those crutches or I’ll give you something that will knock your ass out for days.”
“I’d just spit them out,” Dean smirked, thinking he had just won.
Molly smiled, but didn‘t blink. “Who said anything about you swallowing them?”
Dean‘s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Molly stared him down. “Try me.”
Cas bit back a laugh, they didn’t have anything other than oral medications, of course, Dean didn’t know that.
Dean looked to Cas for help. Cas held up his hands, he knew better than to mess with Molly. The next time he needed stitches or broke an ankle he did not want her pissed off with him.
Dean made an exasperated sound.
Molly held out the crutches.
Dean glared at her for several long seconds. Molly never blinked.
“Whatever,” he huffed and grabbed them.
Cas turned away before Dean could see the smile on his face.
****
Cas had given him a crash course in Shit that attracts trouble 101.
The military had used to burn a lot of bodies at once on a regular basis, but they’d learned the hard way that burning flesh seemed to attract the Croats. A lot of soldiers had died before they’d made the connection. The Croats might not actually eat people, but they sure as hell were drawn to the smell of it going up in flames.
Even though chances were slim one body would actually grab their attention, they couldn’t take the risk. Giving the camp’s former leader the traditional hunters funeral was out of the question.
Instead, Risa and Mark had dug a grave for the camp’s former leader.
They’d chosen a spot about twenty feet into the woods that surrounded the camp. Dean looked around, as he leaned heavily on the crutches that tyrant had forced on him. Out of the fifty survivors living here, over half had come out to pay their respects. Some were crying quietly - all wore solemn expressions.
They all might have had their issues with Bizzaro Dean being willing to send Cas, Risa, and Mark to their deaths, but he had led them for years. Just because he’d lost himself somewhere along the way - it didn’t mean people forgot everything else he’d done.
Chuck was among them, looking at the other Dean’s body with a mixture of sadness and disappointment, his hands crossed behind his back. Molly’s brown orbs were a bit damp as she came to stand beside Chuck. Risa and Mark, still dripping sweat, were chugging a bottle of water while leaning on their shovels. Their eyes were tired.
Cas was standing next to him; his face unreadable.
Everyone was eerily quiet. It seemed no one knew what to say.
Dean sure as hell didn‘t. He still couldn’t sort out his feelings. It was too weird, staring down at yourself lying in a grave. All he could think over and over again was: That could have been me.
He owed it to this Dean to say something. If not for him, he might have gone down a similar road - pushing everyone that cared about him away in favor of fueling his bitterness and hatred at the hand that life had dealt him. Dean glanced over at the man standing by his side. I might have lost Cas.
Cas’s hand came to rest on his lower back, Dean caught other people noticing. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
“How are you doing?” Dean murmured into Cas’s ear. Dean had been waiting all day for Cas to fall apart - so far he had been handling this entire ordeal freakishly calm. Dean didn’t know what to make of it.
“Better than I thought I’d be,” Cas replied while looking skyward. “I just wish he hadn’t hated me so much at the end,” Cas whispered a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down his cheek.
Dean watched as it reached Cas’s jaw line, then fell to the ground. Another one followed.
Dean steeled himself; it seemed he couldn’t go a day without tapping into his very underdeveloped touchy-feely side. “I don’t think he hated you. In fact, I’m pretty sure he pushed you away because in some sick, screwed up way he thought he was protecting you from himself.” Dean’s eyes drifted to the dead body resting only a few feet from him. “He knew he was no good for you in any way, shape, or form. Making you hate him was the best he could do for you.” Dean looked back at Cas and nudged him with his elbow. “He just didn’t realize that without you around, he had no one left to keep him from going dark side.”
Cas’s breathing hitched slightly, and his fingers dug into Dean’s waist. More tears fell.
“You did what you had to do, Cas,“ Dean finished, he felt spent. Heart to hearts’ were freaking exhausting, but sometimes they were worth it.
Cas nodded, his wet eyes were sad, but accepting.
“Will you help me sit down?” he whispered to Cas.
“Sure,” Cas said while drying his face on his shirt sleeve.
With Cas’s help Dean sat down next to the grave, he kept his bad leg extended in front of him-if Molly saw him bending it unless absolutely necessary, she’d have his head.
There was one thing he could do for this Dean.
Dean kept his voice low. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m not going to give up on Sammy. I’m going to try to find a way to save him. You have my word,” Dean felt his throat tighten.
“And I’m going to help,” Cas’s quiet, determined voice added.
Dean felt his eyes start to burn; his future self had no idea what he’d given up when he’d pushed Cas away. Their gazes locked, Dean had a hard time looking away.
After several deep breaths, Dean tore his eyes from Cas’s and stared down into the grave again. “We are going to try and find a way to save him. I know deep down that’s what you wanted to do.”
Dean turned back towards Cas. “Anything else you want to say?”
“I don‘t think there‘s anything left,” Cas breathed, his eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.
Dean nodded, grabbed his crutches, and together they stood up.
Risa draped a blanket over his body, then they started filling in the hole.
After it was covered, they placed a simple wooden cross at the head of the grave, and then they hung the necklace Sam had given him on it.
“It’s what I would have wanted,” Dean whispered.
“It’s what he would have wanted as well,” Cas reassured him.
****
After the funeral they’d gone back home.
“I hate to bring this up now, man, but I want-.”
“Me to get the drugs out of the house,” Cas guessed from the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the slight trace of anxiety in his voice, and the way his eyes kept drifting from the bedroom door to the chest in the living area where he kept a back up supply of pills and pot.
Dean blinked, his mouth formed a tight line, but his eyes were warm. “Have I told you how scary you are sometimes?”
Cas shrugged, then mentally tried to prepare himself; he wasn’t sure if he could do it. His stomach started to clench, the fear pressed against his chest. There was a relentless voice whispering to him that he needed them. That he’d failed at trying to quit before, so why even bother?
“You can do this,” Dean said, his green eyes earnest, his voice held no trace of doubt. “I’ve got your back.”
The voice got quieter; it didn’t go away, but it lost some of its fervor. Cas nodded, his skin broke out in a cold sweat as he headed for the poster on the wall. He tore it away, then grabbed the bag of marijuana taped there. He tossed it to Dean, who managed to catch it despite his handicap.
He hadn’t told Dean about that one, which was why he’d gone there first, before that voice telling him he should hide something for emergencies got any louder.
“One down,” Cas whispered to himself then headed towards the chest pressed against the wall. He bent down, dug underneath some extra candles and rags, pulled out some more pot, and five prescription bottles.
His hands were shaking as he walked over to Dean.
Dean was smiling, his eyes encouraging. “Why don’t you set them on my bed, we’ll box it all up when you’re done.”
Cas nodded, walked over, and laid them down.
He could feel Dean’s affection and pride wafting over him through their bond as he marched to the bedroom. It helped keep that voice at bay.
Maybe he could do this.
He bent down and pulled out his main stash. The pills were in a tan shoebox. Cas rested his sweaty palms on the lid and steeled himself.
You. Don‘t. Need. Them. Dean’s voice echoed in his brain. Cas hadn’t really believed Dean when he’d said it. Cas still wasn‘t sure if he did, but he wanted to - that had to be worth something.
Cas yanked the lid off and stared down at the bottles that had been his world for so long. It occurred to Cas that Dean wasn’t the only one hobbling along on a pair of crutches.
The drugs were his.
Maybe it was time he learned to walk without them.
He grabbed the box, stood, and walked back to the bed. Cas placed everything in the shoebox, put the lid back on, then turned to face Dean.
“That everything?” Dean asked, his tone firm, but not mistrusting.
“Yes,” Cas answered. It was the truth.
Dean grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.” His relaxed expression and friendly tone made it clear he believed him.
Cas couldn’t help but be a little surprised, he’d expected Dean to tear the place up making sure he wasn’t lying. His friend’s complete faith in him made it easier to breath, his hands steadied some, and he was able to hush the panicked whispers.
Cas managed a small smile. “Guess Chuck’s going to have some more things to inventory,” Cas said, surprised how steady his voice had become.
“Hell yes, he is,” Dean balanced on one crutch and slapped him once on the back. “Let’s go pay him a visit.
****
The storage shed where Chuck was busy organizing and rationing supplies was a rather large building near the back of the camp. It had been used to store gardening supplies and an old lawnmower they’d used for scrap metal.
The look of pride Dean had given Cas when he’d shoved all those bottles at a very surprised Chuck had almost made it worth it. Chuck reassured him that they would be put to good use. Cas tried to look happy about that, he was pretty sure he only managed not to grimace.
The thought of all his pills being anywhere but under his care made him jumpy.
Once they were inside the large building Dean wanted to check it all out. He’d called it scouting out the terrain. Cas knew that was crap, he’d just wanted to see if they had any more of that damned stale cereal he seemed to love so much. Coco Puffs or something like that.
Dean had volunteered to help Chuck organize supplies, despite Cas’s objections. Cas had told Dean he should rest, but Cas had known it was useless. Dean was stubborn, restless, and needed to do something. Cas had relented only after Dean had promised to make sure all he did was sit and sort. No carrying anything and no walking without his crutches.
On his way back home, something strange happened.
Cas felt good about what he‘d done. The feeling was almost foreign. It had been so long since he’d felt good about anything.
It wasn’t that he still didn’t have the urge to pop a few pills; it wasn’t that his body still wasn’t rebelling against him by serving up migraines, cold sweats, tremors, and a bit of nausea on the side. It was just that for the first time in a long time he welcomed being able to face the world without them.
He knew he was getting off lucky. His symptoms were already lessening. Most people in his situation would have had it a lot worse. Some days it was nice being a bit of a freak.
After walking inside the cabin and staring at the walls for a few minutes, Cas realized he needed to keep busy as well or the urge to go swipe some of his stash back was going to become overwhelming.
He made both beds, picked up any clothes or towels strewn on the floor, then inventoried their supplies. It was a good thing they had enough to replenish everything, because they sure as hell needed it.
The place looked nice when he got done. Nicer than it had in awhile. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dean might appreciate it.
Cas rubbed at his jaw and grinned. There was one more thing he could do.
It was time for that shave.
He poured some water into a large bowl, grabbed what he had left of shaving cream, and propped up a little mirror on his dresser. Cas pulled out the straight edge razor he always used for this annoying task, then went to work.
Due to his still slightly unsteady hands, Cas was so intent on not cutting his throat he didn’t notice Dean standing beside him until he spoke. “You missed a spot.”
Cas jumped, nicking himself on the chin. “Thanks.”
“Sorry,” Dean kept standing there, leaning on his crutches.
“It’s okay. I can’t stay angry with someone so old and decrepit. You’re just too pitiful,” Cas finished his left side, then started on the right.
Dean looked down at his crutches and laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Yep.”
Dean disappeared briefly from his peripheral vision, then returned dragging a stool. He‘d ditched one crutch. “Sit here.”
Cas paused, “Why?”
“I want to make it up to you. I can give a damn good shave.” Dean’s tone was carefree, but there was an edge to it that caught the former angel’s attention.
Cas turned and really looked at him. His body seemed almost too relaxed, like he was making a conscience effort to give off a carefree personae. His fingers lightly drumming on the stool were a striking contradiction that only made Cas sure he was right. This had nothing to do with Dean feeling bad for making him cut himself.
This was Dean’s way of trying to get a bit closer without crossing any of his self-imposed lines.
“I think I‘m doing just fine,” Cas said, his tone sultry as he lowered his eyelashes and allowed himself the luxury of a bit of blatant flirtation. Dean wasn’t the only one wanting to test the waters.
Dean met him head on flashing a devilish smile. One that Cas had seen his friend wear many times, but it had never been aimed in his direction before. “Cas, I‘m telling you my skills with a razor are unmatched,” his tone was a bit husky, his eyes smoldered.
It seemed he had definitely interpreted Dean’s actions correctly, he definitely wanted to get closer. Cas certainly wasn’t going to deny him that indulgence.
Cas sat down on the stool.
Dean grinned, probably thinking he'd won their little game, limped over a bit closer, and tossed his remaining crutch on the bed. He squirted a dab of shaving cream on his hand, rubbed it between his palms, then smeared a thin coat on Cas’s neck and face.
Cas raised an eyebrow.
“What? I told you, you missed a spot. I’m just being thorough,” his tone oozed innocence, but his eyes were playful.
Dean look very pleased with himself as he took the razor, rinsed it, then very slowly started with Cas’s neck. His fingers from his free hand followed the blade, caressing each spot he ran the razor over.
Cas felt his body start to heat up. His breathing deepened, taking in long, slow breaths of Dean as his pulse sped up.
Dean continued to idly pet him as he started on Cas’s face. The blades sure, smooth strokes glided against Cas’s cheek with focused precision.
His face was only inches away. Cas shifted a bit in his seat as he felt himself becoming further aroused.
Dean kept right on shaving, then caressing, his focus completely on the task at hand. Although, every now and then Cas thought he’d catch a flicker of heat in his friends green eyes.
Cas closed his eyes and focused on not doing anything that he would regret later.
He’s just testing the waters. Remember that. Let him take it slow. Give him time.
At that moment, Cas promised himself he wouldn’t make the first move. Cas knew what he wanted; he wanted Dean. It was Dean who was confused, so it needed to be Dean’s choice. Trying to push more on him than he was ready for would only earn Cas another case of heartbreak.
Then there was the funeral they’d just left not long ago. Thoughts of the other Dean lying six feet under helped snuff out most of his desire.
Cas sat perfectly still while Dean finished.
Dean pulled back and admired his work. “Damn, I’m good. Smooth as a baby‘s bottom,” Dean patted Cas’s cheek twice then handed him the mirror.
“Not bad,” Cas ran his hands over his skin. He had to admit, it was a great shave. “Maybe you missed your calling.”
“Smart ass,” Dean set the razor down, then hobbled a few feet, and flopped down on Castiel’s bed. Apparently, that shave had taken a lot out of him.
Cas wiped off any left over shaving cream, then started putting things away. Dean still hadn’t moved so he went outside and dumped the dirty water over the railing on his porch. That’s when he noticed the big box of food and other supplies sitting near the steps. It looked like Dean had done a little raid of his own. He just hoped someone else had carried it here. Cas set the bowl on the railing to dry, picked up the box, and lugged it inside.
He carried it into the kitchen. There were a few pairs of pants, and a couple of t-shirts on the top. Cas set them aside to put away later.
Then he started on the rest.
Everything else was stored in a large cabinet under a useless sink. Food went on the right side, anything else on the left. Baking soda, energy bars, water, stale chocolate puff cereal, that last one was definitely Dean. Toilet paper, that one was Chuck. Lots of canned goods, some with missing labels; that was always fun.
A lot of soap. It seemed Jim and Rita had whipped up another batch. They were fortunate enough to have a married couple who had dabbled in soap making prior to the end of the world. They had enough problems without everyone smelling like they just crawled out of a sewer. He could use that in place of shaving cream when he ran out. Cas smiled at the memory of Dean’s caresses. That would be useful.
He emptied out the rest and found ibuprofen, hydrogen peroxide, a jar of honey, powdered eggs, lots of Spam, and some powdered milk.
Cas had just finished emptying the box when he heard Dean grumble something. A rustling sound, his bed creaking, then a few moments later Dean shuffled out. He was still only using one crutch. Stubborn ass.
“Did I do good?” he asked, his voice and hair made it apparent he’d dozed off.
“Yep. I’m thinking powdered eggs and Spam for dinner,” Cas put the last of the canned goods away.
“Sounds yummy.”
“We‘ll go outside and start a fire later,” Cas said while pulling out his one good skillet.
“Sweet,” Dean said while grimacing.
“Where’s your other crutch?” Cas growled.
“On your floor.”
Cas walked past Dean, grabbed the thing, and placed it in his hand. “Use it.”
“Yes, mom,” he griped, but kept the crutch.
*****
About thirty minutes before sunset, Dean and Cas ventured outside to make dinner. They headed to the back of the cabin and Dean looked around. He’d never actually been back here. Cas’s home was very close to the forest that circled the camp, so it was a nice view. There was a sturdy fence with barbed wire decorating the top that also enclosed the camp. It rather killed the scenic image, but it was either that or you might suddenly have an army of Croats in your back yard.
Dean had to admit, he was impressed with Cas’s fire setup. There were large rocks set up around it, and a metal grate above it. It was basically a primitive stove top. There was a bucket of water sitting nearby in case of emergencies. Considering their ability to attract danger around every corner, it was probably a good idea.
There were also two very comfy looking lawn chairs set around it. Dean immediately sat down in one. His leg was not happy, that damned nurse had probably been right about limiting his activity. Not that he ever planned to admit it to her.
He watched as his friend expertly got a fire going with only a stick, and a flat piece of wood with a hole carved into it. He placed the stick into the hole then his hands moved back and forth rapidly; it was kind of mesmerizing. Eventually the wood started to smoke, then a spark caught igniting the dead grass at the bottom. Cas used it to get the fire going, then he fed it with a mix of leaves, grass, and straw.
The whole thing took quite awhile, but Cas didn’t seem to mind.
“Why not use a match?” Dean wondered.
Cas shrugged. “I do sometimes, but I like to conserve whatever I can-a habit I picked up from Bobby,” Cas’s voice was relaxed, even with the mention of Bobby.
“He teach you to do that?” Dean guessed.
Cas smiled. “Yeah.”
“My dad taught me a long time ago,” Dean said surprising himself. He didn’t talk about his dad much anymore. Strange how easily things seemed to slip out when he was around Cas.
Cas tossed a bit more leaves in and added a few pieces of wood. “It’s a good skill to have,” his eyes were gentle. “Your dad was wise to show it to you.”
Dean shrugged, then grunted, and rested his crutches on the side of the chair.
Cas gestured towards the fire. “We keep them low, that way we aren’t drawing any unwanted attention to our little settlement here.”
“Smart,” Dean replied.
Cas poured some of the powdered eggs into the skillet, added some water, mixed them, then placed it on the grate. They’d also brought out a can of Spam, and some honey for dessert.
It was the perfect evening for eating outside. The weather was lovely, almost no humidity, and the sky was clear. Cas periodically stirred the eggs while they sat in comfortable silence.
Cas had also brought out that old bottle of whiskey, the label was torn off, and according to Cas it smelled like it would eat your insides on the way down. Dean smiled and stretched out his good leg.
He could hear voices and see other fires lighting up. It seemed they weren’t the only ones having a hot dinner tonight.
Dean opened the can of Spam and the jar of honey then set them out on the wooden crate they’d be using as a table. It was sitting in between their chairs.
Utensils were in short supply, but Cas had a few spoons. Dean shoved one in the can and then looked up at the sky.
The sun was just starting to go down when Cas said, “Eggs are ready.”
Dean’s rumbling stomach approved.
Cas grinned and set the skillet down in the middle of the crate.
“No plates I’m afraid. I gave mine away.”
“Men don’t need plates,” Dean said while handing Cas a spoon.
They didn’t talk much while they ate. The eggs were nice and hot, they felt good going down. They both ate from the skillet, Dean didn’t mind. It felt like they were camping; on a night like this, it was easy to forget the world had ended.
The Spam tasted as good as Spam ever does.
For dessert they each had few spoonfuls of honey. It was damn good. Sweets were hard to come by nowadays and that hit the spot.
When they’d finished Dean was pleasantly full, and from the contented look on Cas’s face, so was he.
“You ready to make that toast?” Cas asked after awhile.
Dean rubbed his stomach and burped.
Cas chuckled. “Was that a yes?”
“I thought that honor was going to you,” Dean smiled.
Cas nodded, grabbed the bottle from under his seat and rested it on his lap. He closed his eyes, then after a few moments held it up over his head and said, his voice full of emotion. “For Bobby. I miss you.”
“For Bobby,” Dean echoed.
Cas got up and placed the bottle in a hole he’d dug a few hours ago. His hand rested on top of it for a few minutes, Dean could see Cas’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, one tear escaped.
“We never got to bury him,” Cas said, his voice just barely loud enough for Dean to hear. “After that day we-I tried to go back for his body, Bizzaro Dean wasn’t too happy about that.”
“What happened?” Dean prompted.
“It was flooded with Croats. I couldn’t get near Bobby’s home.”
Dean cringed, he hated to agree with his alter ego, but the thought of Cas almost getting himself killed trying to retrieve Bobby’s body didn’t make him happy either. Not that he didn’t understand the sentiment, but he knew if it had been him that died, Dean would not have wanted anyone else he cared about getting themselves killed for his rotting corpse. He choose to keep that opinion to himself. Every now and then he actually managed to think before opening his mouth.
Instead Dean cleared his throat and said, “I‘m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think Bobby would like this better anyway.”
Dean agreed.
Two funerals in one day, damn it had been another long one.
****
They were getting ready to head back inside when Dean saw a familiar form come around the corner of the cabin.
Vanessa.
The dark haired goddess that Cas had been banging. She was wearing a skin-tight tank top and an equally tight pair of jeans.
“Hey Cas,” she cooed, her gaze zeroing in on him.
Cas’s head shot up, as he finished putting the fire out. “Hey,” he smiled, his voice very friendly. His eyes glided up and down her trim form.
Dean pretended not to notice that prickle of annoyance that kept trying to make itself known. The chick was smoking hot - Cas had every right to stare. Hell, he’d given her a good once over himself.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she’d stepped close enough to touch him now. Her fingers ran down the side of Cas’s arm.
Cas glanced his way, his eyes uncertain.
“Don’t mind me,” Dean’s voice was cool, as he settled himself back into the chair.
Cas clicked his tongue, then turned back to Vanessa. “Sure, let’s go over this way.”
Cas led her out of hearing range.
Dean tried not to look. He told himself it was none of his business and he didn’t care what they were doing.
Somehow his eyes seemed to be repeatedly sucked in their general direction. It was dark but the moon was out; he could see enough.
Each time he looked over that feeling of annoyance seemed to increase. They seemed to be involved in a deep conversation because they couldn’t seem to stop staring into each other’s eyes.
She kept touching him. A hand on his shoulder. A finger on his chest.
Dean turned away. He reminded himself that he wasn’t gay, that he was probably only annoyed because he wished the hot chick were falling all over him instead of Cas.
The memory of lying in bed with Cas swept over him, his dick twitched.
Dammit.
A loud, sensual, laugh.
Silence.
They were probably kissing.
His thoughts immediately flowed to how soft, and inviting Cas’s lips had looked up close when Dean had had the pleasure of giving him a shave earlier that day. How much he’d wanted to taste them.
Dean licked his lips while his cock woke up.
Dean finally relented and turned to face them again.
All he saw was Vanessa walking away, her step a little less peppy than it had been when she’d arrived.
He tried not to feel relieved.
Cas turned towards him and smiled, “You ready to head back in?”
Dean tried not to notice the way his heart fluttered when Cas smiled at him like that. He grabbed his crutches, mumbled an affirmative, then got up.
****
Molly had made one more house call before calling it a night. She hadn’t been pleased with how much activity Dean had. Before leaving she’d given him two more of those pills, saying he needed to get a good night’s sleep.
Cas had watched while Dean took them. So did Molly. It looked like Dean had learned his lesson; you didn’t argue with Molly. She’d win every damn time.
Cas saw her out and thanked her.
“You’ve got quite a firecracker on your hands there, Cas,” she grinned.
Cas chuckled. “I noticed.”
Molly leaned in and whispered, “I’m sure you can handle him.”
Cas raised an eyebrow.
Molly winked, and then left with a perceptive little smile on her face.
Was his affection for Dean that obvious? Cas threw his hands up in the air, then went back to check on Dean.
He was already drifting off; he really had pushed himself too hard this week.
Cas set a bottle of water and the ibuprofen on the floor next to the bed. “I‘ll see you in the morning,” he whispered patting Dean’s chest. “Get some rest.”
Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He swallowed then said, “You too.”
Cas gave a slight nod and forced himself to walk away. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Dean again, but Dean hadn’t asked, and Cas wasn’t willing to risk getting hurt or losing what he already had with the confusing hunter.
Cas went into his bedroom, leaving the door open half way in case Dean needed him. He washed up, brushed his teeth with baking soda, then stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into his very lonely bed.
Next chapter
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Comments are loved and adored; if you're reading this I'd love to know :)
Special thanks to my beta weslyn
Title: The Long Road Back
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R (maybe NC-17 later to be safe)
Chapters: 17/28
Warnings: gore,language,violence, drug use, eventual slash
Spoilers: only up to 5 X 4 (but you'll see me draw from information we found out later)
Characters/Pairings: focus on Dean/Future Cas but also Risa, Chuck, OC's, LuciferSam, and future Dean.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine and I don't own anything but a few OC's and the errors.
Summary: AU 5 X 04 The End fic. In many ways this will be a fix it story (but not in all ways). Dean stops his future self from sending Cas and the others into a trap and Zachariah seems to be missing in action. Dean has to figure out where to go from here.
A/N: This fic has been consuming my brain in a good way. I really wanted to play around in this world, i love apocalyptic type settings, and i thought it would be a good way to keep myself busy during the hiatus. This story is going to have action,violence, and some death but the focus of this fic will be a slowly evolving love story in the middle of a world gone to hell between a certain hunter and a certain fallen angel. If you have a problem with that, don't read it.
Word count: 5516 (56,000 total)
Chapter One Chapter Eight Chapter 15
Chapter Two Chapter Nine Chapter 16
Chapter Three Chapter Ten
Chapter Four Chapter Eleven
Chapter Five Chapter Twelve
Chapter Six Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Seven Chapter Fourteen
Cas was leaning against the wall of their cabin listening to a battle of wills take place. Molly had arrived ten minutes ago to examine Dean’s leg. She’d been pleased because the swelling had gone down considerably, she’d then instructed him to keep it wrapped up tight, and to stay off his feet for a few days.
Dean hadn’t liked that idea. Cas had spoken to her earlier and told her to expect as much.
Molly had come prepared.
She’d marched back out through the beads, and returned carrying two crutches.
Dean had cringed and looked at them like they were poisonous snakes about to strike.
Now the war had started. Dean was a goner-he just didn’t know it yet.
“If you insist on getting up and moving around you will use these,” Molly’s normally soft voice had hardened. Dean was really pissing her off, which wasn’t something easily done.
“I said, I’m fine,” he slowly bent his injured knee up and down. “A little ibuprofen and I’m good to go.”
Molly shook her head, pointed her index finger at Dean’s nose, and growled, “That only masks the problem; you could injure yourself further by putting pressure on already strained ligaments. Since we’re back to living in the dark ages, a lot more guess work goes into diagnosing medical problems. I have no way of knowing how bad the sprain is.”
“I said I don’t need them. I’ve been banged up way worse than this; I know what I’m talking about.“ Dean started to push up off the bed.
Molly leaned in, her nose only inches from Dean’s face. “You will use those crutches or I’ll give you something that will knock your ass out for days.”
“I’d just spit them out,” Dean smirked, thinking he had just won.
Molly smiled, but didn‘t blink. “Who said anything about you swallowing them?”
Dean‘s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Molly stared him down. “Try me.”
Cas bit back a laugh, they didn’t have anything other than oral medications, of course, Dean didn’t know that.
Dean looked to Cas for help. Cas held up his hands, he knew better than to mess with Molly. The next time he needed stitches or broke an ankle he did not want her pissed off with him.
Dean made an exasperated sound.
Molly held out the crutches.
Dean glared at her for several long seconds. Molly never blinked.
“Whatever,” he huffed and grabbed them.
Cas turned away before Dean could see the smile on his face.
****
Cas had given him a crash course in Shit that attracts trouble 101.
The military had used to burn a lot of bodies at once on a regular basis, but they’d learned the hard way that burning flesh seemed to attract the Croats. A lot of soldiers had died before they’d made the connection. The Croats might not actually eat people, but they sure as hell were drawn to the smell of it going up in flames.
Even though chances were slim one body would actually grab their attention, they couldn’t take the risk. Giving the camp’s former leader the traditional hunters funeral was out of the question.
Instead, Risa and Mark had dug a grave for the camp’s former leader.
They’d chosen a spot about twenty feet into the woods that surrounded the camp. Dean looked around, as he leaned heavily on the crutches that tyrant had forced on him. Out of the fifty survivors living here, over half had come out to pay their respects. Some were crying quietly - all wore solemn expressions.
They all might have had their issues with Bizzaro Dean being willing to send Cas, Risa, and Mark to their deaths, but he had led them for years. Just because he’d lost himself somewhere along the way - it didn’t mean people forgot everything else he’d done.
Chuck was among them, looking at the other Dean’s body with a mixture of sadness and disappointment, his hands crossed behind his back. Molly’s brown orbs were a bit damp as she came to stand beside Chuck. Risa and Mark, still dripping sweat, were chugging a bottle of water while leaning on their shovels. Their eyes were tired.
Cas was standing next to him; his face unreadable.
Everyone was eerily quiet. It seemed no one knew what to say.
Dean sure as hell didn‘t. He still couldn’t sort out his feelings. It was too weird, staring down at yourself lying in a grave. All he could think over and over again was: That could have been me.
He owed it to this Dean to say something. If not for him, he might have gone down a similar road - pushing everyone that cared about him away in favor of fueling his bitterness and hatred at the hand that life had dealt him. Dean glanced over at the man standing by his side. I might have lost Cas.
Cas’s hand came to rest on his lower back, Dean caught other people noticing. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
“How are you doing?” Dean murmured into Cas’s ear. Dean had been waiting all day for Cas to fall apart - so far he had been handling this entire ordeal freakishly calm. Dean didn’t know what to make of it.
“Better than I thought I’d be,” Cas replied while looking skyward. “I just wish he hadn’t hated me so much at the end,” Cas whispered a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down his cheek.
Dean watched as it reached Cas’s jaw line, then fell to the ground. Another one followed.
Dean steeled himself; it seemed he couldn’t go a day without tapping into his very underdeveloped touchy-feely side. “I don’t think he hated you. In fact, I’m pretty sure he pushed you away because in some sick, screwed up way he thought he was protecting you from himself.” Dean’s eyes drifted to the dead body resting only a few feet from him. “He knew he was no good for you in any way, shape, or form. Making you hate him was the best he could do for you.” Dean looked back at Cas and nudged him with his elbow. “He just didn’t realize that without you around, he had no one left to keep him from going dark side.”
Cas’s breathing hitched slightly, and his fingers dug into Dean’s waist. More tears fell.
“You did what you had to do, Cas,“ Dean finished, he felt spent. Heart to hearts’ were freaking exhausting, but sometimes they were worth it.
Cas nodded, his wet eyes were sad, but accepting.
“Will you help me sit down?” he whispered to Cas.
“Sure,” Cas said while drying his face on his shirt sleeve.
With Cas’s help Dean sat down next to the grave, he kept his bad leg extended in front of him-if Molly saw him bending it unless absolutely necessary, she’d have his head.
There was one thing he could do for this Dean.
Dean kept his voice low. “I just wanted to tell you, I’m not going to give up on Sammy. I’m going to try to find a way to save him. You have my word,” Dean felt his throat tighten.
“And I’m going to help,” Cas’s quiet, determined voice added.
Dean felt his eyes start to burn; his future self had no idea what he’d given up when he’d pushed Cas away. Their gazes locked, Dean had a hard time looking away.
After several deep breaths, Dean tore his eyes from Cas’s and stared down into the grave again. “We are going to try and find a way to save him. I know deep down that’s what you wanted to do.”
Dean turned back towards Cas. “Anything else you want to say?”
“I don‘t think there‘s anything left,” Cas breathed, his eyes still shimmered with unshed tears.
Dean nodded, grabbed his crutches, and together they stood up.
Risa draped a blanket over his body, then they started filling in the hole.
After it was covered, they placed a simple wooden cross at the head of the grave, and then they hung the necklace Sam had given him on it.
“It’s what I would have wanted,” Dean whispered.
“It’s what he would have wanted as well,” Cas reassured him.
****
After the funeral they’d gone back home.
“I hate to bring this up now, man, but I want-.”
“Me to get the drugs out of the house,” Cas guessed from the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the slight trace of anxiety in his voice, and the way his eyes kept drifting from the bedroom door to the chest in the living area where he kept a back up supply of pills and pot.
Dean blinked, his mouth formed a tight line, but his eyes were warm. “Have I told you how scary you are sometimes?”
Cas shrugged, then mentally tried to prepare himself; he wasn’t sure if he could do it. His stomach started to clench, the fear pressed against his chest. There was a relentless voice whispering to him that he needed them. That he’d failed at trying to quit before, so why even bother?
“You can do this,” Dean said, his green eyes earnest, his voice held no trace of doubt. “I’ve got your back.”
The voice got quieter; it didn’t go away, but it lost some of its fervor. Cas nodded, his skin broke out in a cold sweat as he headed for the poster on the wall. He tore it away, then grabbed the bag of marijuana taped there. He tossed it to Dean, who managed to catch it despite his handicap.
He hadn’t told Dean about that one, which was why he’d gone there first, before that voice telling him he should hide something for emergencies got any louder.
“One down,” Cas whispered to himself then headed towards the chest pressed against the wall. He bent down, dug underneath some extra candles and rags, pulled out some more pot, and five prescription bottles.
His hands were shaking as he walked over to Dean.
Dean was smiling, his eyes encouraging. “Why don’t you set them on my bed, we’ll box it all up when you’re done.”
Cas nodded, walked over, and laid them down.
He could feel Dean’s affection and pride wafting over him through their bond as he marched to the bedroom. It helped keep that voice at bay.
Maybe he could do this.
He bent down and pulled out his main stash. The pills were in a tan shoebox. Cas rested his sweaty palms on the lid and steeled himself.
You. Don‘t. Need. Them. Dean’s voice echoed in his brain. Cas hadn’t really believed Dean when he’d said it. Cas still wasn‘t sure if he did, but he wanted to - that had to be worth something.
Cas yanked the lid off and stared down at the bottles that had been his world for so long. It occurred to Cas that Dean wasn’t the only one hobbling along on a pair of crutches.
The drugs were his.
Maybe it was time he learned to walk without them.
He grabbed the box, stood, and walked back to the bed. Cas placed everything in the shoebox, put the lid back on, then turned to face Dean.
“That everything?” Dean asked, his tone firm, but not mistrusting.
“Yes,” Cas answered. It was the truth.
Dean grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about.” His relaxed expression and friendly tone made it clear he believed him.
Cas couldn’t help but be a little surprised, he’d expected Dean to tear the place up making sure he wasn’t lying. His friend’s complete faith in him made it easier to breath, his hands steadied some, and he was able to hush the panicked whispers.
Cas managed a small smile. “Guess Chuck’s going to have some more things to inventory,” Cas said, surprised how steady his voice had become.
“Hell yes, he is,” Dean balanced on one crutch and slapped him once on the back. “Let’s go pay him a visit.
****
The storage shed where Chuck was busy organizing and rationing supplies was a rather large building near the back of the camp. It had been used to store gardening supplies and an old lawnmower they’d used for scrap metal.
The look of pride Dean had given Cas when he’d shoved all those bottles at a very surprised Chuck had almost made it worth it. Chuck reassured him that they would be put to good use. Cas tried to look happy about that, he was pretty sure he only managed not to grimace.
The thought of all his pills being anywhere but under his care made him jumpy.
Once they were inside the large building Dean wanted to check it all out. He’d called it scouting out the terrain. Cas knew that was crap, he’d just wanted to see if they had any more of that damned stale cereal he seemed to love so much. Coco Puffs or something like that.
Dean had volunteered to help Chuck organize supplies, despite Cas’s objections. Cas had told Dean he should rest, but Cas had known it was useless. Dean was stubborn, restless, and needed to do something. Cas had relented only after Dean had promised to make sure all he did was sit and sort. No carrying anything and no walking without his crutches.
On his way back home, something strange happened.
Cas felt good about what he‘d done. The feeling was almost foreign. It had been so long since he’d felt good about anything.
It wasn’t that he still didn’t have the urge to pop a few pills; it wasn’t that his body still wasn’t rebelling against him by serving up migraines, cold sweats, tremors, and a bit of nausea on the side. It was just that for the first time in a long time he welcomed being able to face the world without them.
He knew he was getting off lucky. His symptoms were already lessening. Most people in his situation would have had it a lot worse. Some days it was nice being a bit of a freak.
After walking inside the cabin and staring at the walls for a few minutes, Cas realized he needed to keep busy as well or the urge to go swipe some of his stash back was going to become overwhelming.
He made both beds, picked up any clothes or towels strewn on the floor, then inventoried their supplies. It was a good thing they had enough to replenish everything, because they sure as hell needed it.
The place looked nice when he got done. Nicer than it had in awhile. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dean might appreciate it.
Cas rubbed at his jaw and grinned. There was one more thing he could do.
It was time for that shave.
He poured some water into a large bowl, grabbed what he had left of shaving cream, and propped up a little mirror on his dresser. Cas pulled out the straight edge razor he always used for this annoying task, then went to work.
Due to his still slightly unsteady hands, Cas was so intent on not cutting his throat he didn’t notice Dean standing beside him until he spoke. “You missed a spot.”
Cas jumped, nicking himself on the chin. “Thanks.”
“Sorry,” Dean kept standing there, leaning on his crutches.
“It’s okay. I can’t stay angry with someone so old and decrepit. You’re just too pitiful,” Cas finished his left side, then started on the right.
Dean looked down at his crutches and laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Yep.”
Dean disappeared briefly from his peripheral vision, then returned dragging a stool. He‘d ditched one crutch. “Sit here.”
Cas paused, “Why?”
“I want to make it up to you. I can give a damn good shave.” Dean’s tone was carefree, but there was an edge to it that caught the former angel’s attention.
Cas turned and really looked at him. His body seemed almost too relaxed, like he was making a conscience effort to give off a carefree personae. His fingers lightly drumming on the stool were a striking contradiction that only made Cas sure he was right. This had nothing to do with Dean feeling bad for making him cut himself.
This was Dean’s way of trying to get a bit closer without crossing any of his self-imposed lines.
“I think I‘m doing just fine,” Cas said, his tone sultry as he lowered his eyelashes and allowed himself the luxury of a bit of blatant flirtation. Dean wasn’t the only one wanting to test the waters.
Dean met him head on flashing a devilish smile. One that Cas had seen his friend wear many times, but it had never been aimed in his direction before. “Cas, I‘m telling you my skills with a razor are unmatched,” his tone was a bit husky, his eyes smoldered.
It seemed he had definitely interpreted Dean’s actions correctly, he definitely wanted to get closer. Cas certainly wasn’t going to deny him that indulgence.
Cas sat down on the stool.
Dean grinned, probably thinking he'd won their little game, limped over a bit closer, and tossed his remaining crutch on the bed. He squirted a dab of shaving cream on his hand, rubbed it between his palms, then smeared a thin coat on Cas’s neck and face.
Cas raised an eyebrow.
“What? I told you, you missed a spot. I’m just being thorough,” his tone oozed innocence, but his eyes were playful.
Dean look very pleased with himself as he took the razor, rinsed it, then very slowly started with Cas’s neck. His fingers from his free hand followed the blade, caressing each spot he ran the razor over.
Cas felt his body start to heat up. His breathing deepened, taking in long, slow breaths of Dean as his pulse sped up.
Dean continued to idly pet him as he started on Cas’s face. The blades sure, smooth strokes glided against Cas’s cheek with focused precision.
His face was only inches away. Cas shifted a bit in his seat as he felt himself becoming further aroused.
Dean kept right on shaving, then caressing, his focus completely on the task at hand. Although, every now and then Cas thought he’d catch a flicker of heat in his friends green eyes.
Cas closed his eyes and focused on not doing anything that he would regret later.
He’s just testing the waters. Remember that. Let him take it slow. Give him time.
At that moment, Cas promised himself he wouldn’t make the first move. Cas knew what he wanted; he wanted Dean. It was Dean who was confused, so it needed to be Dean’s choice. Trying to push more on him than he was ready for would only earn Cas another case of heartbreak.
Then there was the funeral they’d just left not long ago. Thoughts of the other Dean lying six feet under helped snuff out most of his desire.
Cas sat perfectly still while Dean finished.
Dean pulled back and admired his work. “Damn, I’m good. Smooth as a baby‘s bottom,” Dean patted Cas’s cheek twice then handed him the mirror.
“Not bad,” Cas ran his hands over his skin. He had to admit, it was a great shave. “Maybe you missed your calling.”
“Smart ass,” Dean set the razor down, then hobbled a few feet, and flopped down on Castiel’s bed. Apparently, that shave had taken a lot out of him.
Cas wiped off any left over shaving cream, then started putting things away. Dean still hadn’t moved so he went outside and dumped the dirty water over the railing on his porch. That’s when he noticed the big box of food and other supplies sitting near the steps. It looked like Dean had done a little raid of his own. He just hoped someone else had carried it here. Cas set the bowl on the railing to dry, picked up the box, and lugged it inside.
He carried it into the kitchen. There were a few pairs of pants, and a couple of t-shirts on the top. Cas set them aside to put away later.
Then he started on the rest.
Everything else was stored in a large cabinet under a useless sink. Food went on the right side, anything else on the left. Baking soda, energy bars, water, stale chocolate puff cereal, that last one was definitely Dean. Toilet paper, that one was Chuck. Lots of canned goods, some with missing labels; that was always fun.
A lot of soap. It seemed Jim and Rita had whipped up another batch. They were fortunate enough to have a married couple who had dabbled in soap making prior to the end of the world. They had enough problems without everyone smelling like they just crawled out of a sewer. He could use that in place of shaving cream when he ran out. Cas smiled at the memory of Dean’s caresses. That would be useful.
He emptied out the rest and found ibuprofen, hydrogen peroxide, a jar of honey, powdered eggs, lots of Spam, and some powdered milk.
Cas had just finished emptying the box when he heard Dean grumble something. A rustling sound, his bed creaking, then a few moments later Dean shuffled out. He was still only using one crutch. Stubborn ass.
“Did I do good?” he asked, his voice and hair made it apparent he’d dozed off.
“Yep. I’m thinking powdered eggs and Spam for dinner,” Cas put the last of the canned goods away.
“Sounds yummy.”
“We‘ll go outside and start a fire later,” Cas said while pulling out his one good skillet.
“Sweet,” Dean said while grimacing.
“Where’s your other crutch?” Cas growled.
“On your floor.”
Cas walked past Dean, grabbed the thing, and placed it in his hand. “Use it.”
“Yes, mom,” he griped, but kept the crutch.
*****
About thirty minutes before sunset, Dean and Cas ventured outside to make dinner. They headed to the back of the cabin and Dean looked around. He’d never actually been back here. Cas’s home was very close to the forest that circled the camp, so it was a nice view. There was a sturdy fence with barbed wire decorating the top that also enclosed the camp. It rather killed the scenic image, but it was either that or you might suddenly have an army of Croats in your back yard.
Dean had to admit, he was impressed with Cas’s fire setup. There were large rocks set up around it, and a metal grate above it. It was basically a primitive stove top. There was a bucket of water sitting nearby in case of emergencies. Considering their ability to attract danger around every corner, it was probably a good idea.
There were also two very comfy looking lawn chairs set around it. Dean immediately sat down in one. His leg was not happy, that damned nurse had probably been right about limiting his activity. Not that he ever planned to admit it to her.
He watched as his friend expertly got a fire going with only a stick, and a flat piece of wood with a hole carved into it. He placed the stick into the hole then his hands moved back and forth rapidly; it was kind of mesmerizing. Eventually the wood started to smoke, then a spark caught igniting the dead grass at the bottom. Cas used it to get the fire going, then he fed it with a mix of leaves, grass, and straw.
The whole thing took quite awhile, but Cas didn’t seem to mind.
“Why not use a match?” Dean wondered.
Cas shrugged. “I do sometimes, but I like to conserve whatever I can-a habit I picked up from Bobby,” Cas’s voice was relaxed, even with the mention of Bobby.
“He teach you to do that?” Dean guessed.
Cas smiled. “Yeah.”
“My dad taught me a long time ago,” Dean said surprising himself. He didn’t talk about his dad much anymore. Strange how easily things seemed to slip out when he was around Cas.
Cas tossed a bit more leaves in and added a few pieces of wood. “It’s a good skill to have,” his eyes were gentle. “Your dad was wise to show it to you.”
Dean shrugged, then grunted, and rested his crutches on the side of the chair.
Cas gestured towards the fire. “We keep them low, that way we aren’t drawing any unwanted attention to our little settlement here.”
“Smart,” Dean replied.
Cas poured some of the powdered eggs into the skillet, added some water, mixed them, then placed it on the grate. They’d also brought out a can of Spam, and some honey for dessert.
It was the perfect evening for eating outside. The weather was lovely, almost no humidity, and the sky was clear. Cas periodically stirred the eggs while they sat in comfortable silence.
Cas had also brought out that old bottle of whiskey, the label was torn off, and according to Cas it smelled like it would eat your insides on the way down. Dean smiled and stretched out his good leg.
He could hear voices and see other fires lighting up. It seemed they weren’t the only ones having a hot dinner tonight.
Dean opened the can of Spam and the jar of honey then set them out on the wooden crate they’d be using as a table. It was sitting in between their chairs.
Utensils were in short supply, but Cas had a few spoons. Dean shoved one in the can and then looked up at the sky.
The sun was just starting to go down when Cas said, “Eggs are ready.”
Dean’s rumbling stomach approved.
Cas grinned and set the skillet down in the middle of the crate.
“No plates I’m afraid. I gave mine away.”
“Men don’t need plates,” Dean said while handing Cas a spoon.
They didn’t talk much while they ate. The eggs were nice and hot, they felt good going down. They both ate from the skillet, Dean didn’t mind. It felt like they were camping; on a night like this, it was easy to forget the world had ended.
The Spam tasted as good as Spam ever does.
For dessert they each had few spoonfuls of honey. It was damn good. Sweets were hard to come by nowadays and that hit the spot.
When they’d finished Dean was pleasantly full, and from the contented look on Cas’s face, so was he.
“You ready to make that toast?” Cas asked after awhile.
Dean rubbed his stomach and burped.
Cas chuckled. “Was that a yes?”
“I thought that honor was going to you,” Dean smiled.
Cas nodded, grabbed the bottle from under his seat and rested it on his lap. He closed his eyes, then after a few moments held it up over his head and said, his voice full of emotion. “For Bobby. I miss you.”
“For Bobby,” Dean echoed.
Cas got up and placed the bottle in a hole he’d dug a few hours ago. His hand rested on top of it for a few minutes, Dean could see Cas’s lips moving, but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, one tear escaped.
“We never got to bury him,” Cas said, his voice just barely loud enough for Dean to hear. “After that day we-I tried to go back for his body, Bizzaro Dean wasn’t too happy about that.”
“What happened?” Dean prompted.
“It was flooded with Croats. I couldn’t get near Bobby’s home.”
Dean cringed, he hated to agree with his alter ego, but the thought of Cas almost getting himself killed trying to retrieve Bobby’s body didn’t make him happy either. Not that he didn’t understand the sentiment, but he knew if it had been him that died, Dean would not have wanted anyone else he cared about getting themselves killed for his rotting corpse. He choose to keep that opinion to himself. Every now and then he actually managed to think before opening his mouth.
Instead Dean cleared his throat and said, “I‘m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think Bobby would like this better anyway.”
Dean agreed.
Two funerals in one day, damn it had been another long one.
****
They were getting ready to head back inside when Dean saw a familiar form come around the corner of the cabin.
Vanessa.
The dark haired goddess that Cas had been banging. She was wearing a skin-tight tank top and an equally tight pair of jeans.
“Hey Cas,” she cooed, her gaze zeroing in on him.
Cas’s head shot up, as he finished putting the fire out. “Hey,” he smiled, his voice very friendly. His eyes glided up and down her trim form.
Dean pretended not to notice that prickle of annoyance that kept trying to make itself known. The chick was smoking hot - Cas had every right to stare. Hell, he’d given her a good once over himself.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she’d stepped close enough to touch him now. Her fingers ran down the side of Cas’s arm.
Cas glanced his way, his eyes uncertain.
“Don’t mind me,” Dean’s voice was cool, as he settled himself back into the chair.
Cas clicked his tongue, then turned back to Vanessa. “Sure, let’s go over this way.”
Cas led her out of hearing range.
Dean tried not to look. He told himself it was none of his business and he didn’t care what they were doing.
Somehow his eyes seemed to be repeatedly sucked in their general direction. It was dark but the moon was out; he could see enough.
Each time he looked over that feeling of annoyance seemed to increase. They seemed to be involved in a deep conversation because they couldn’t seem to stop staring into each other’s eyes.
She kept touching him. A hand on his shoulder. A finger on his chest.
Dean turned away. He reminded himself that he wasn’t gay, that he was probably only annoyed because he wished the hot chick were falling all over him instead of Cas.
The memory of lying in bed with Cas swept over him, his dick twitched.
Dammit.
A loud, sensual, laugh.
Silence.
They were probably kissing.
His thoughts immediately flowed to how soft, and inviting Cas’s lips had looked up close when Dean had had the pleasure of giving him a shave earlier that day. How much he’d wanted to taste them.
Dean licked his lips while his cock woke up.
Dean finally relented and turned to face them again.
All he saw was Vanessa walking away, her step a little less peppy than it had been when she’d arrived.
He tried not to feel relieved.
Cas turned towards him and smiled, “You ready to head back in?”
Dean tried not to notice the way his heart fluttered when Cas smiled at him like that. He grabbed his crutches, mumbled an affirmative, then got up.
****
Molly had made one more house call before calling it a night. She hadn’t been pleased with how much activity Dean had. Before leaving she’d given him two more of those pills, saying he needed to get a good night’s sleep.
Cas had watched while Dean took them. So did Molly. It looked like Dean had learned his lesson; you didn’t argue with Molly. She’d win every damn time.
Cas saw her out and thanked her.
“You’ve got quite a firecracker on your hands there, Cas,” she grinned.
Cas chuckled. “I noticed.”
Molly leaned in and whispered, “I’m sure you can handle him.”
Cas raised an eyebrow.
Molly winked, and then left with a perceptive little smile on her face.
Was his affection for Dean that obvious? Cas threw his hands up in the air, then went back to check on Dean.
He was already drifting off; he really had pushed himself too hard this week.
Cas set a bottle of water and the ibuprofen on the floor next to the bed. “I‘ll see you in the morning,” he whispered patting Dean’s chest. “Get some rest.”
Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He swallowed then said, “You too.”
Cas gave a slight nod and forced himself to walk away. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Dean again, but Dean hadn’t asked, and Cas wasn’t willing to risk getting hurt or losing what he already had with the confusing hunter.
Cas went into his bedroom, leaving the door open half way in case Dean needed him. He washed up, brushed his teeth with baking soda, then stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into his very lonely bed.
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