Supernatural Fic: Some Dreaming State, (3/8)
Title: Some Dreaming State
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Character List: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Meg, Crowley, halLucifer
Warnings/Enticements: jealous!Dean, Sam and Cas broship with a side of awesome!Sam, explicit violence, explicit torture, explicit sex, soulbonding, BAMF!Cas, protective!Cas, offscreen death of a minor character, brief Dean/OFC, brief jealous!Cas
Spoilers: through the end of 7.17, goes AU after
Summary: Meg wants a weapon. When Castiel refuses, she sells him out to Crowley. The Winchesters won't be happy... assuming they find out.
Wordcount: about 52K total
Title comes from Florence the Machine's 'Blinding'.
Under the cut.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Castiel wasn't sure if he should be counting his time in Crowley's torture chamber in weeks or months. He had lost track after twenty-three days, one blending into the next.
Most days, it was Dean that cut into him. Some days, it was Sam, a few times it had been Balthazar. Some days, he was given a reprieve and Crowley was the one who tortured him.
Lucifer was generally in the background those days, singing off-key or reciting all the reasons why Castiel deserved this. Every night, after Crowley was finished, Lucifer reminded him that no one was coming for him because no one knew where he was. No one was coming for him because Cas deserved this for everything he had done.
His only comfort was that Lucifer rarely bothered with full hallucinations anymore. Occasionally, the room would turn hellish or heavenly; a mirror of anyplace Castiel had associated with torture in the past. It helped, too, that the madness was only able to animate one person at a time. He had witnessed shades before, in his head, but they were nothing like the apparitions Lucifer used to torture him in the real world.
Castiel had hoped, in his darker moments, that he cuffs had taken enough Grace to render him mortal and he'd die. He had no idea where he'd end up - Hell or Purgatory or if he'd just become atoms of Grace scattered on the wind - but anything would be better than this.
The door opened, hinges squealing. Castiel had tensed the first week or two when he heard that sound, but it had lost the power to affect him.
"Cas?"
Dean's voice. Cas closed his eyes wearily. Dean days were always the worst. The effect should have lessened over time, but Lucifer had a direct line to all of Castiel's fears and regrets and he played Castiel's mind and body like an instrument. Castiel knew he was no good to anyone like this, but it was a lot harder to hear Dean's voice say it.
He felt something stir weakly in the far reaches of his mind.
"Cas!"
Hurried footsteps. That was new. Crowley never ran. He stalked.
A hand came down surprisingly gently on his broken ribs. Cas let out a quiet hiss and the hand was drawn back as though the contact stung. There was a pause and then careful hands began rapidly loosening the leather straps keeping Castiel tied down.
Cas turned his head towards Dean, looking at the man through one black, swollen eye. The other was still growing back.
Dean looked faintly sick, hands pausing on the straps. Cas felt faintly ill in sympathy, knowing he must look a mess.
Odd. He’d never felt the emotional echoes of the hallucinations before.
"Fuck, Cas... what did they do to you?" Dean asked. He glanced towards the door and then back at Cas. "I swear to God, I'm going to murder Crowley for this." He sounded furious and he flung the restraints roughly to the other side of the table. Some of the straps were a bit tacky and stiff with half-dried blood, but the minor stings as they were ripped away barely even registered as pain.
Cas noticed Dean's eyes lingering over the twisted bones that hadn't been set after breaking, the bruises, the pinpricks, the cuts, the small chunks of missing flesh, the missing toes and fingers... It was nothing Cas wouldn't be able to heal with his Grace. He was fairly sure. Assuming he was ever allowed unfettered access.
"I..." Cas coughed, throat scratchy and dry. Dean moved to the other side of the table to free his other wrist and ankle. "I was wondering how long it would take you." It no longer mattered if he interacted with the hallucinations. He had nothing else in this place, nothing but cockroaches and the occasional spider or millipede.
For some time now, he had been expecting Lucifer to try something like this. It had worked so well in the hospital; Dean was here, he had come to help Cas, he'd let Cas tag along and protect him and Sam.
"Well, sorry for not being quicker." There was sarcasm there. There was a faint hint of honesty too. Lucifer had really outdone himself on this one. This was too close to how Dean would really be acting.
"Are you going to have him decide that I'm better off here or are you going to make me watch him die?" Castiel asked. Sometimes, when Dean was torturing him, cuts would appear on his body to mirror any injuries Castiel received. Dean wouldn't even seem to notice, just continue on until his golden skin had turned snowy white from blood loss. Those were the only times Cas had wanted to ask him to stop; he refused to beg, not even now.
Other times, Dean would tell him that he was better off where he was and he deserved this for thinking he could become God.
"Who?" Dean asked, unlatching the last of the restraints. "Fuck it, let's go. You can tell me later. Can you walk?"
Castiel didn't move. He didn't see the point; even if it looked like he was free, he didn't want to move and break the illusion. Surely he was still tied down, even if he couldn’t feel it.
"Dean," he answered. Dean shot another glance at the door.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me later," he said. "I'm going to need to carry you, aren't I?"
Without waiting for an answer, he slipped one arm beneath Castiel's knees and the other under his shoulder blades. With a grunt of effort, he picked Cas up. Castiel didn't struggle. He could feel warmth flowing into him, golden and glorious, and he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.
Lucifer had even gotten the rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat right.
LINE BREAK
"We never should have left him, Sam," Dean bit out, cleaning his sawed-off shotgun with jerky, harsh motions while keeping his back firmly to the angel passed out on one of the beds in the motel room. The cuffs Cas wore glowed faintly underneath the blanket. Their mojo was probably why Cas needed to sleep and why he had been a bloody mess when Dean had finally found him.
Just thinking about the sight still made the bile rise in his throat and anger burn low in his belly. If Cas had actually been human, there would have been nothing left to save. He’d cleaned up the angel as best he could, using bucketful after bucketful of water and a clean rag to wash the grime from Castiel’s skin. It hadn’t been quite enough, but that was the story of his life, wasn’t it?
They’d bandaged Cas up after the sponge bath, but what they’d had on hand wasn’t nearly what they needed.
"You couldn't have known-" Sam started to say, trying for reassuring, but Dean slammed the gun down on the table between them.
"I did. I fucking knew Crowley was sniffing around, and I left him there. With Meg." He spat the demon's name like it was the foulest curse he knew, and Dean knew quite a few.
"Crowley didn't know where he was, though," Sam said. "And our lives aren't exactly safe, Dean. What could we have done? Taken him with us?" It was an odd reversal; Sam had been arguing to take Cas with them from Day One, but Dean had insisted he knew better. Cas would be safer there, far away from the Winchesters. But now Sam was being the reassuring little bro, not the smarter younger sibling.
"Crowley didn't know, but Meg did. So did Daphne," Dean said tightly. He doubted Emmanuel’s wife had willingly turned him in, but demons had ways of getting information. "And we should have taken him with us. At least we could have protected him instead of just leaving him there and hoping Crowley wouldn't find him and hell-bitch wouldn't turn him over." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to rip their damn LUNGS out."
Sam went quiet for a moment, then:
"Daphne?" he asked.
Dean glanced down. This was one story he hadn’t share with Sam, though the younger Winchester had asked. He’d just said that he’d found Cas, never mentioning the painfully normal suburban home or the painfully normal wife. Everything had still been too raw.
"His wife. Human. Normal. Guess she found him after he wandered out of a stream." Dean hadn't met the woman for very long, but she'd served him and Cas coffee while Dean explained about Sam's problem. A hunter wasn't active in the business for very long unless they had good instincts; Daphne wouldn't have sold Cas out. Not willingly. She'd really cared about him.
He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to her.
"His wife?" Sam echoed.
Dean nodded.
"Dean..." And there it was, the tone Sam used whenever he wanted to talk about feelings.
"Can it," Dean said, getting out of his chair. "I'm going to check on Cas's bandages."
Sam didn't say anything, just nodded and went back to his musty books. The cuffs were nothing either Winchester had recognized, but there had to be a way to remove them. If there was, Sam was determined to find it.
LINE BREAK
Castiel's eyes snapped open. He drew in a shuddering breath and looked around, confused for a moment by the faded, peeling wallpaper and yellowed ceiling. This was neither Crowley's basement nor his room in the mental ward.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course, the imagined rescue would be followed by waking up in a motel room.
He was covered in bandages, every major wound he had surrounded in layers of soft cloth. Not all of it was white - some bandages were plaid flannel, some were darkly colored. Most likely, a few shirts had been torn up to provide enough material to hold him together. He had been dressed in clothes a size too large for him, though they weren't large enough to be Sam's. Inhaling through his nose, Cas could smell Dean's aftershave and sweat.
A part of him wanted to applaud Lucifer’s attention to detail. Of course he wouldn’t have any of his own clothes; he had been wearing scrubs when Crowley took him from the hospital, and naturally Crowley wouldn’t have stopped to collect his trenchcoat from his personal effects. No one rescuing him would have it, either.
"At last, Sleeping Beauty wakes," Lucifer said, standing at the side of the bed and leaning over to smile down at Castiel. "I think I'm actually impressed, brother. Sammy didn't manage to sleep a wink after letting me in." He frowned. "Then again, I did have almost two centuries of memories between Sam and I to draw on."
Cas ignored him and tried to sit up. He groaned weakly and had nearly managed it before there was suddenly another presence at his side.
"Cas, you shouldn't move yet. You'll rip your stitches," Sam said, placing a hand carefully on Castiel's shoulder and trying to get him to lay back down. Cas stared at him, eyes wide in shock. His gaze darted from Sam to Lucifer. The archangel shrugged.
"It gets boring, staying hidden. I couldn't have done it for long, even as amusing as it would have been for you to keep believing I invented this."
"Sam..." Cas said. His voice was hoarse. Sam winced at the sound in sympathy.
"I'll get you some water," he said, heading for the bathroom. He grabbed a glass from the dresser on his way in. Cas heard the sink running and then Sam was back, offering him the half-full cup. Cas accepted it somewhat uncertainly, eyes going between Lucifer and Sam to confirm that, yes, there really were two people with him.
This couldn’t be an illusion.
He sipped the water. It tasted cool and refreshing on his tongue, even though he knew it was probably lukewarm at best. He hadn't tasted anything that wasn't his own blood in too long.
Sam hovered awkwardly at the side of his bed, a wince lurking just behind his eyes as his gaze darted from Castiel’s face, to his injuries, and then to one of the garish paintings on the motel room’s walls. Near-silence fell between them, broken only by Lucifer’s arrhythmic humming.
“Now would be a great time to apologize, don’t you think?” Lucifer sing-songed. “For, well, everything. You don’t need me to remind you of what you’ve done.”
Castiel pulled the water away from his lips, licking them absently to catch every stray drop. He held the glass in both hands and lowered it to his lap.
He shouldn’t have been listening to Lucifer at all, but he couldn’t help hearing. Much as he hated to admit it, Lucifer was right.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas said, looking at the water glass.
"Sorry for?" Sam prompted gently, trying to catch Castiel's eyes. Cas looked up and met his gaze, refusing to run from Sam’s reaction.
“You deserve whatever he does to you,” Lucifer told him, voice quiet but serious.
"For breaking your Wall," he said. "It was wrong of me. I never should have done that, and I-"
"Cas..." Sam said. "I've already forgiven you for that. I forgave you for it even before you came back and fixed it." He half-reached for Castiel's shoulder as if to squeeze it supportively, but didn't want to hurt him further. Cas was still healing. "You're one of us."
"Isn't that sweet?" Lucifer mocked. Cas glanced at him, lips thin with irritation.
"Cas?" Sam asked, following Castiel's gaze.
"It's nothing," Cas said. Lucifer grinned at him. Castiel turned back to Sam, reaching out tentatively to grasp the human's shoulder. He winced when he saw three of his fingers missing from that hand, only little stubs sticking out from his palm. He collected himself and continued. "Thank you."
Sam smiled.
"And, well... I'm sorry too. For stabbing you in the back." He winced. "Literally and figuratively."
"It's been forgiven," Cas said.
"What would Dean say if he walked in on that?" Lucifer asked. "You, getting all buddy-buddy with Sammy after nearly driving him insane?"
Cas drew his hand back from Sam and looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably. Sam frowned, concerned.
“How do you feel?” he asked. “If you’re in pain, we’ve got some ibuprofen…”
“I’m fine,” Castiel said, shaking his head. "Where are we?"
"About an hour away from where we found you. We demon-proofed the room as much as we could, but we need to get moving before anyone finds us. We didn't want to drive too far without treating your injuries, though." Sam made a vague gesture that encompassed all of Cas. "We figured that the cuffs were interfering with your healing abilities. We weren't sure how much they interfered, if you..." Sam's voice trailed off.
"If I could die," Cas finished for him. Sam nodded, looking distinctly ill at ease.
"He's still so kind," Lucifer said, reaching out as through to try and brush some of Sam's hair back from his face. Castiel tensed. "Even after everything you put him through, he still cares." Lucifer pulled his fingers back before making contact with Sam and looked at Cas, catching the angel’s eyes before Castiel could look away. “Then again, you are the Winchesters' only weapon against the Leviathans.”
"The cuffs block most of my access to my Grace," Cas said, tearing his eyes from Lucifer. "Crowley had a witch forge them, but I know little else.” Crowley had been rather proud of the deal he’d struck to get the cuffs made and had let pieces of information slip while he’d held Castiel captive. Cas looked towards one of the far walls. “I won't be able to help you until they're removed."
"It might take a while to figure out how to remove them. I think I've seen something similar to this before, but I can't remember where. The fact that they’re witch-made helps, though," Sam said. He paused a moment, then quietly added, "Will you be OK? Will everything… grow back?"
Sam made an expansive gesture that encompassed everything from Castiel’s still-missing eye, to his fingers, his toes, and the tiny chunks of flesh Crowley had taken from various places on the angel’s body.
"Once I have my Grace, yes. I will be whole again." Cas answered. He cleared his throat. “As for your first question… I cannot die.” He wasn’t sure if his answer was in the affirmative or negative. Something must have shown in his tone, because Sam's expression became flat-out worried.
"Cas-"
The door to the motel swung open and Dean walked in. He was carrying bags, both heavy with food. One had obvious grease stains at the bottom while the other was clean, though oddly distended.
"Ah, look who's back," Lucifer said, now standing next to Dean. He poked at one of the bags. "Looks like he brought enough for two." Lucifer sent Cas a mock-apologetic look. "Guess you don't need to eat."
Cas studied the bedspread, tugging at one of the loose threads. It was true, after all.
"Hello, Dean," he said quietly. Dean stopped.
"Cas, you're awake?" Dean said. He sounded surprised. "You were supposed to text me." That sounded irritated, though not directed at Cas. Castiel felt the bond slowly wake up in the back of his mind and stilled, surprised.
He hadn’t been able to touch it in so long and now it was acting completely independent of his control.
"I would have. He just woke up," Sam replied, getting up to help Dean with the bags. He opened the grease-stained one and groaned. "Please tell me you brought him something that's not deep fried or red meat covered in cheese? He'll want something easy to digest."
"The soup and salad is for him," Dean replied, breezing past Sam with the other bag. "You're going to turn into a rabbit if you keep eating rabbit food, Samantha."
Sam huffed at the nickname but made no further protest. He headed for the small table and sat down, unpacking his bag.
"You brought me a meal?" Cas asked, looking up at Dean in surprise. Dean avoided his gaze and thrust the sack of food at him. The bond awoke more fully the closer Dean came; Cas could sense it, but couldn’t reach out to touch it or to soothe it back into dormancy. This close, Dean might be able to feel it too.
This wasn’t like the previous times he had been close to Dean. Then, the bond had been properly walled off; there had been no tiny holes to permit even the thinnest connection.
Behind Dean, Cas saw Lucifer flicker and vanish, an irritated expression on his face.
"Yeah. We weren't sure what was going on with your mojo - thought you might need something," he said. Castiel looked back at Dean and took the bag, somewhat stunned. He opened the bag to stare at the contents; this wasn’t just a meal, it wasn’t anything so simple. It was tangible proof that Dean still cared enough to try and make him well again.
Even if it was only because the Winchesters needed a weapon.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean cock his head as though he was trying to hear something just out of earshot. A quick glance at his face revealed a frown and instantly Castiel realized what must be happening. The bond was sending echoes of his emotions to Dean, though fortunately it wasn’t strong enough yet for a full transfer.
He clamped down on his feelings and shifted away from Dean. Keeping greater distance between them might be prudent until his Grace was restored and he could more effectively block the bond.
Dean shook his head as though to shake off the reverberations and dismiss them. Castiel relaxed.
"Thank you," he said, striving for normalcy. His voice came out a bit stiff and formal. He glanced from his bag of food to Sam's. There was no third sack. He didn’t look up at Dean.
"Will you be eating, too?"
Dean was quiet for a moment. Cas could distantly feel some dark emotion, a bit like pain, a bit like anger, but then they disappeared.
"Already did. I needed to get out for a bit," Dean replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly lost for words. "I've got to go. I have stuff I have to do."
Without further ado, Dean turned and stalked back to the door. The bond faded somewhat the farther Dean moved and before he had even reached the entrance to the room, Lucifer was once more sitting on Castiel’s bed.
“Sam, pack the room once you’re done. We’re not staying for dinner,” Dean said. He shut the door behind him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He didn’t glance back at Cas.
"Seems like Dean's really not happy with you, huh?" Lucifer asked Castiel. "Maybe you would have been better off on the rack. Maybe he regrets picking you up."
A motor revved outside the room, then slowly faded.
"They need me," Castiel muttered, busying himself with grabbing the small salad Dean had brought for him.
"What was that?" Sam asked.
"Nothing important," Castiel replied. He pried open the top of his salad. It was a bit awkward with the bandages and missing fingers, but he managed eventually. Lucifer peered over his shoulder.
“Hm… looks an awful lot like what Sam usually gets for lunch, doesn’t it?” he said. He shot a significant glance to Sam. “And Sammy’s eating what Dean normally does… and Dean has ‘already eaten’. Of course.”
Cas found a set of plasticware in the bag and selected the fork. He opened up the small tub of Ranch dressing and poured it over the limp leaves of his meal, doing his best to ignore what Lucifer was saying. His brow creased in concentration, struggling to handle the plastic fork while compensating for his missing digits.
Sam hesitated, watching Cas.
"He bought breakfast for you, too," he said finally, gently. Cas looked up at that, but Sam had already directed his attention to his own meal.
"And they've probably conveniently tossed it out, haven't they?" Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe they expected you to sleep for longer. Maybe they would have preferred it."
Castiel took a bite of his salad but didn't taste it. He swallowed and it fell like lead all the way down.
LINE BREAK
"Cas, how are you doing?" Sam asked, voice tentative and almost guilty. It sounded loud in the small library, echoing off the basement walls.
The library was in the basement of a house in the Chicago suburbs, owned by a hunting duo that had worked with John a few times. They supposedly specialized in witches and though they couldn’t be here to help research due to a case in northern Kansas, they had given the boys their blessing to look through their books.
Castiel wasn’t particularly surprised that a question had been asked, though the question itself was a bit unexpected. There had been little conversation all day, though the silences had been edged with tension and heavy with things unasked.
"What do you mean?" Castiel asked. Lucifer sighed, leaning against one of the bookcases next to the chair Cas had taken for his own. Lucifer had spent the drive over conjuring different images to horrify Cas with, but had seemed to tire of it when he showed no reaction. With access to his Grace still cut off, there was little Cas could do to stop him.
He’d kept a tight lid on his emotions since he had woken up, especially when Dean was nearby. As the days went on, he’d needed to do it less and less often; Dean had spent more and more time away from the motel rooms and had almost started avoiding Castiel except when strictly necessary.
The bond’s effectiveness at banishing Lucifer had weakened considerably as the distance between himself and Dean grew, but it was better than the alternative.
He stole a glance at the older Winchester, who was standing next to the bookshelves opposite Cas, as physically far away from the angel as he could get and still be in the same room. As though sensing Castiel’s gaze, Dean spoke.
"When you broke Sam's gourd, he had hallucinations," Dean explained, not looking up from the book he was reading. "He wanted to know if you were seeing Lucifer."
Sam nodded.
"Well, are you?" There was now a doppelganger of Dean standing next to Cas, staring at him with a disappointed expression. "Because you're a liability if you are, you know that, right? Sam would have been better off in a hospital where he couldn't fuck up and get one of us killed."
"I am," Castiel admitted. "Not currently-" True enough. "-but I do see him, sometimes." He paused for a moment, uncertain. "I can still be of use to you."
Dean's lips thinned. Clearly, that was not the answer he had wanted to hear. He flipped a few pages in the book he held, letting out an irritated huff of breath when one of the pages crinkled.
"I'm handling it. I don't need your help," Cas assured them. The Dean next to him laughed.
"Oh, yeah, you're doing real well so far," he said mockingly. He crouched down and leaned in to whisper into his ear. The double's breath was cold against the shell of flesh, but Castiel didn't let himself shiver. "Lying is a sin, you know."
"'Handling it'?" Sam asked doubtfully. "Cas, if you need help-"
"You heard him, Sammy. He's got it covered," Dean said shortly. He shoved his book back on the shelf and took a new one down, turning his back on Sam and Cas.
"Once these cuffs are removed and my Grace is restored, I'll be able to put up a wall between myself and Lucifer," Cas said. "I can manage until then on my own."
"Because life on the road means you can't bring everything with you. Burdens get left on the side of the highway," Lucifer told Cas, standing back up. "Better make sure you’re never a burden, little brother, or else, sooner or later, they will leave you."
Castiel looked at his book, licked one of his remaining fingers, and flipped the page.
LINE BREAK
"Do you, uh... do you want to call Daphne?" Sam asked, turning around in the front seat of the car to face Cas. The angel frowned and tilted his head slightly, confused. "I mean, it wouldn't be safe to visit, but you can probably call her..."
"Why would I do that?" Castiel asked. Dean stared intently at the road, eyes fixed and hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
"You care about her, right?" he said gruffly. "That's what you do when you care. You call, maybe drop by once in a while for a beer, shoot the breeze-" He cut himself off and Castiel's frown deepened. Dean's voice held more than the usual amount of irritation, but the angel had no idea what had upset the human. Judging by Sam's expression, both confused and concerned, neither did Sam.
Cas wanted to reach for Dean and perhaps find out why the human was so angry, but he still couldn’t touch the bond consciously. For the past few days, Dean had been keeping his emotions locked down and Cas had hardly needed to keep a tight leash on his own feelings at all.
It should have been a relief, since constantly monitoring himself for slips had been somewhat exhausting, but it had left Cas feeling more lonely than ever.
"Dean..." Sam questioned softly. Dean jerked his head to the side, dismissive. Sam sighed and turned back to Cas. "She's probably frantic. You've been missing for months." Sam looked a little guilty then, a tentative, apologetic smile on his lips. "We would have offered earlier, but we kind of... forgot you were married."
It felt like a lie, but Castiel let it pass. Dean’s expression had darkened again.
"Oh," Cas breathed. He cleared his throat. "Daphne and I were never actually married. She thought it was less suspicious for a man and a woman to live together if they claimed to be wed. It was her way of protecting me.” The less remarkable he was, the less cause anyone would have to ask questions. The claim had been a neat cover story, though they had never done anything beyond the realms of friendship. They had separate rooms and slept in separate beds, though Castiel’s room was always referred to as ‘the guest room’. As he had had no possessions of his own, it wasn’t difficult to keep the room impersonal.
Castiel fell silent, feeling a brief pang of sorrow for the woman who had helped him. It did help to know that a soul as pure as hers would most certainly have gone to Heaven, but he regretted the loss. It had been good to know someone who didn't know what he was and yet cared for him regardless.
"Because Dean doesn't, right, Cassie?" Lucifer asked, casually curled up on the seat next to Cas. His knees were braced against the back of the driver's seat and were level with his head. The position looked horribly cramped, but it didn't seem to bother the archangel. "You may be one of the nicer dicks with wings, but he never called you when he was with Lisa. He only called you when he needed you.” Lucifer shrugged. “Now, you have the worth of an infant. That's why Dean's been irritated; because you’re useless."
Castiel dug his nails into his palm, but they weren't long enough to pierce the meat. He again resisted the urge to reach for Dean, vowing that he could get through this on his own. He was strong enough.
Still, he couldn't help thinking about what Lucifer had said. Since Sam had jumped into the Pit, all those years ago, not once had Dean or Sam called him just because they wished for his company. There had been no offers of shared beverages or attempts to fire guns into the wind. If those were the things someone did when they cared...
Castiel tugged at the collar of his borrowed shirt. He still wore Dean’s clothes, most of the time. They simply didn’t have the budget or the time to get him his own, though Dean had insisted on stopping by a Wal-Mart to purchase Cas his own underclothes.
"Even if she isn't your wife, she's still a friend," Dean said, breaking Castiel's train of thought. "Just... give her a call, all right? You know your home phone number?"
"I do," Cas confirmed. Sam started to dig his phone out of his pocket, obviously intending for Cas to use it, but the angel continued, shaking his head in silent refusal. "But I can't call her. Crowley's men already knew where I lived as Emmanuel. When they didn't return, Crowley himself sought me out and found Daphne."
He heard Sam's sharp intake of breath but continued anyway.
"After finding out my location, he killed her and came for me."
The car went almost perfectly silent, only the muted sound of the wind outside and the humans' breathing was audible.
"Wow, Cas... I'm so sorry," Sam said. Dean remained silent, a mix of regret and inward-turning anger, but no shock on his face. Dean must have realized Daphne’s probable fate once he’d found out what had happened to Castiel.
"Why?" Cas asked. "It was not your fault that Crowley killed her."
"We could have done something," Sam protested. "We could have taken her with us, or warned her. Something."
"No, you couldn't," Cas replied evenly. "She would have been no safer with you. Your lives are dangerous; wasn't that why you left me in the hospital?"
The car fell silent again.
"Cas..." Sam finally choked out, after almost a minute. Cas looked at him, puzzled by the clear distress. He hadn't meant it as an accusation, just an observation.
"Of course you didn't mean to accuse them of anything, Cas. Of course you didn't," Lucifer said silkily. Cas shut his mouth and didn't speak.
After a few more minutes of tense silence, Dean reached over and turned the radio on.
TBC...
Part 4
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Character List: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Meg, Crowley, halLucifer
Warnings/Enticements: jealous!Dean, Sam and Cas broship with a side of awesome!Sam, explicit violence, explicit torture, explicit sex, soulbonding, BAMF!Cas, protective!Cas, offscreen death of a minor character, brief Dean/OFC, brief jealous!Cas
Spoilers: through the end of 7.17, goes AU after
Summary: Meg wants a weapon. When Castiel refuses, she sells him out to Crowley. The Winchesters won't be happy... assuming they find out.
Wordcount: about 52K total
Title comes from Florence the Machine's 'Blinding'.
Under the cut.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Castiel wasn't sure if he should be counting his time in Crowley's torture chamber in weeks or months. He had lost track after twenty-three days, one blending into the next.
Most days, it was Dean that cut into him. Some days, it was Sam, a few times it had been Balthazar. Some days, he was given a reprieve and Crowley was the one who tortured him.
Lucifer was generally in the background those days, singing off-key or reciting all the reasons why Castiel deserved this. Every night, after Crowley was finished, Lucifer reminded him that no one was coming for him because no one knew where he was. No one was coming for him because Cas deserved this for everything he had done.
His only comfort was that Lucifer rarely bothered with full hallucinations anymore. Occasionally, the room would turn hellish or heavenly; a mirror of anyplace Castiel had associated with torture in the past. It helped, too, that the madness was only able to animate one person at a time. He had witnessed shades before, in his head, but they were nothing like the apparitions Lucifer used to torture him in the real world.
Castiel had hoped, in his darker moments, that he cuffs had taken enough Grace to render him mortal and he'd die. He had no idea where he'd end up - Hell or Purgatory or if he'd just become atoms of Grace scattered on the wind - but anything would be better than this.
The door opened, hinges squealing. Castiel had tensed the first week or two when he heard that sound, but it had lost the power to affect him.
"Cas?"
Dean's voice. Cas closed his eyes wearily. Dean days were always the worst. The effect should have lessened over time, but Lucifer had a direct line to all of Castiel's fears and regrets and he played Castiel's mind and body like an instrument. Castiel knew he was no good to anyone like this, but it was a lot harder to hear Dean's voice say it.
He felt something stir weakly in the far reaches of his mind.
"Cas!"
Hurried footsteps. That was new. Crowley never ran. He stalked.
A hand came down surprisingly gently on his broken ribs. Cas let out a quiet hiss and the hand was drawn back as though the contact stung. There was a pause and then careful hands began rapidly loosening the leather straps keeping Castiel tied down.
Cas turned his head towards Dean, looking at the man through one black, swollen eye. The other was still growing back.
Dean looked faintly sick, hands pausing on the straps. Cas felt faintly ill in sympathy, knowing he must look a mess.
Odd. He’d never felt the emotional echoes of the hallucinations before.
"Fuck, Cas... what did they do to you?" Dean asked. He glanced towards the door and then back at Cas. "I swear to God, I'm going to murder Crowley for this." He sounded furious and he flung the restraints roughly to the other side of the table. Some of the straps were a bit tacky and stiff with half-dried blood, but the minor stings as they were ripped away barely even registered as pain.
Cas noticed Dean's eyes lingering over the twisted bones that hadn't been set after breaking, the bruises, the pinpricks, the cuts, the small chunks of missing flesh, the missing toes and fingers... It was nothing Cas wouldn't be able to heal with his Grace. He was fairly sure. Assuming he was ever allowed unfettered access.
"I..." Cas coughed, throat scratchy and dry. Dean moved to the other side of the table to free his other wrist and ankle. "I was wondering how long it would take you." It no longer mattered if he interacted with the hallucinations. He had nothing else in this place, nothing but cockroaches and the occasional spider or millipede.
For some time now, he had been expecting Lucifer to try something like this. It had worked so well in the hospital; Dean was here, he had come to help Cas, he'd let Cas tag along and protect him and Sam.
"Well, sorry for not being quicker." There was sarcasm there. There was a faint hint of honesty too. Lucifer had really outdone himself on this one. This was too close to how Dean would really be acting.
"Are you going to have him decide that I'm better off here or are you going to make me watch him die?" Castiel asked. Sometimes, when Dean was torturing him, cuts would appear on his body to mirror any injuries Castiel received. Dean wouldn't even seem to notice, just continue on until his golden skin had turned snowy white from blood loss. Those were the only times Cas had wanted to ask him to stop; he refused to beg, not even now.
Other times, Dean would tell him that he was better off where he was and he deserved this for thinking he could become God.
"Who?" Dean asked, unlatching the last of the restraints. "Fuck it, let's go. You can tell me later. Can you walk?"
Castiel didn't move. He didn't see the point; even if it looked like he was free, he didn't want to move and break the illusion. Surely he was still tied down, even if he couldn’t feel it.
"Dean," he answered. Dean shot another glance at the door.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me later," he said. "I'm going to need to carry you, aren't I?"
Without waiting for an answer, he slipped one arm beneath Castiel's knees and the other under his shoulder blades. With a grunt of effort, he picked Cas up. Castiel didn't struggle. He could feel warmth flowing into him, golden and glorious, and he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.
Lucifer had even gotten the rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat right.
LINE BREAK
"We never should have left him, Sam," Dean bit out, cleaning his sawed-off shotgun with jerky, harsh motions while keeping his back firmly to the angel passed out on one of the beds in the motel room. The cuffs Cas wore glowed faintly underneath the blanket. Their mojo was probably why Cas needed to sleep and why he had been a bloody mess when Dean had finally found him.
Just thinking about the sight still made the bile rise in his throat and anger burn low in his belly. If Cas had actually been human, there would have been nothing left to save. He’d cleaned up the angel as best he could, using bucketful after bucketful of water and a clean rag to wash the grime from Castiel’s skin. It hadn’t been quite enough, but that was the story of his life, wasn’t it?
They’d bandaged Cas up after the sponge bath, but what they’d had on hand wasn’t nearly what they needed.
"You couldn't have known-" Sam started to say, trying for reassuring, but Dean slammed the gun down on the table between them.
"I did. I fucking knew Crowley was sniffing around, and I left him there. With Meg." He spat the demon's name like it was the foulest curse he knew, and Dean knew quite a few.
"Crowley didn't know where he was, though," Sam said. "And our lives aren't exactly safe, Dean. What could we have done? Taken him with us?" It was an odd reversal; Sam had been arguing to take Cas with them from Day One, but Dean had insisted he knew better. Cas would be safer there, far away from the Winchesters. But now Sam was being the reassuring little bro, not the smarter younger sibling.
"Crowley didn't know, but Meg did. So did Daphne," Dean said tightly. He doubted Emmanuel’s wife had willingly turned him in, but demons had ways of getting information. "And we should have taken him with us. At least we could have protected him instead of just leaving him there and hoping Crowley wouldn't find him and hell-bitch wouldn't turn him over." Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to rip their damn LUNGS out."
Sam went quiet for a moment, then:
"Daphne?" he asked.
Dean glanced down. This was one story he hadn’t share with Sam, though the younger Winchester had asked. He’d just said that he’d found Cas, never mentioning the painfully normal suburban home or the painfully normal wife. Everything had still been too raw.
"His wife. Human. Normal. Guess she found him after he wandered out of a stream." Dean hadn't met the woman for very long, but she'd served him and Cas coffee while Dean explained about Sam's problem. A hunter wasn't active in the business for very long unless they had good instincts; Daphne wouldn't have sold Cas out. Not willingly. She'd really cared about him.
He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened to her.
"His wife?" Sam echoed.
Dean nodded.
"Dean..." And there it was, the tone Sam used whenever he wanted to talk about feelings.
"Can it," Dean said, getting out of his chair. "I'm going to check on Cas's bandages."
Sam didn't say anything, just nodded and went back to his musty books. The cuffs were nothing either Winchester had recognized, but there had to be a way to remove them. If there was, Sam was determined to find it.
LINE BREAK
Castiel's eyes snapped open. He drew in a shuddering breath and looked around, confused for a moment by the faded, peeling wallpaper and yellowed ceiling. This was neither Crowley's basement nor his room in the mental ward.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course, the imagined rescue would be followed by waking up in a motel room.
He was covered in bandages, every major wound he had surrounded in layers of soft cloth. Not all of it was white - some bandages were plaid flannel, some were darkly colored. Most likely, a few shirts had been torn up to provide enough material to hold him together. He had been dressed in clothes a size too large for him, though they weren't large enough to be Sam's. Inhaling through his nose, Cas could smell Dean's aftershave and sweat.
A part of him wanted to applaud Lucifer’s attention to detail. Of course he wouldn’t have any of his own clothes; he had been wearing scrubs when Crowley took him from the hospital, and naturally Crowley wouldn’t have stopped to collect his trenchcoat from his personal effects. No one rescuing him would have it, either.
"At last, Sleeping Beauty wakes," Lucifer said, standing at the side of the bed and leaning over to smile down at Castiel. "I think I'm actually impressed, brother. Sammy didn't manage to sleep a wink after letting me in." He frowned. "Then again, I did have almost two centuries of memories between Sam and I to draw on."
Cas ignored him and tried to sit up. He groaned weakly and had nearly managed it before there was suddenly another presence at his side.
"Cas, you shouldn't move yet. You'll rip your stitches," Sam said, placing a hand carefully on Castiel's shoulder and trying to get him to lay back down. Cas stared at him, eyes wide in shock. His gaze darted from Sam to Lucifer. The archangel shrugged.
"It gets boring, staying hidden. I couldn't have done it for long, even as amusing as it would have been for you to keep believing I invented this."
"Sam..." Cas said. His voice was hoarse. Sam winced at the sound in sympathy.
"I'll get you some water," he said, heading for the bathroom. He grabbed a glass from the dresser on his way in. Cas heard the sink running and then Sam was back, offering him the half-full cup. Cas accepted it somewhat uncertainly, eyes going between Lucifer and Sam to confirm that, yes, there really were two people with him.
This couldn’t be an illusion.
He sipped the water. It tasted cool and refreshing on his tongue, even though he knew it was probably lukewarm at best. He hadn't tasted anything that wasn't his own blood in too long.
Sam hovered awkwardly at the side of his bed, a wince lurking just behind his eyes as his gaze darted from Castiel’s face, to his injuries, and then to one of the garish paintings on the motel room’s walls. Near-silence fell between them, broken only by Lucifer’s arrhythmic humming.
“Now would be a great time to apologize, don’t you think?” Lucifer sing-songed. “For, well, everything. You don’t need me to remind you of what you’ve done.”
Castiel pulled the water away from his lips, licking them absently to catch every stray drop. He held the glass in both hands and lowered it to his lap.
He shouldn’t have been listening to Lucifer at all, but he couldn’t help hearing. Much as he hated to admit it, Lucifer was right.
"I'm sorry, Sam," Cas said, looking at the water glass.
"Sorry for?" Sam prompted gently, trying to catch Castiel's eyes. Cas looked up and met his gaze, refusing to run from Sam’s reaction.
“You deserve whatever he does to you,” Lucifer told him, voice quiet but serious.
"For breaking your Wall," he said. "It was wrong of me. I never should have done that, and I-"
"Cas..." Sam said. "I've already forgiven you for that. I forgave you for it even before you came back and fixed it." He half-reached for Castiel's shoulder as if to squeeze it supportively, but didn't want to hurt him further. Cas was still healing. "You're one of us."
"Isn't that sweet?" Lucifer mocked. Cas glanced at him, lips thin with irritation.
"Cas?" Sam asked, following Castiel's gaze.
"It's nothing," Cas said. Lucifer grinned at him. Castiel turned back to Sam, reaching out tentatively to grasp the human's shoulder. He winced when he saw three of his fingers missing from that hand, only little stubs sticking out from his palm. He collected himself and continued. "Thank you."
Sam smiled.
"And, well... I'm sorry too. For stabbing you in the back." He winced. "Literally and figuratively."
"It's been forgiven," Cas said.
"What would Dean say if he walked in on that?" Lucifer asked. "You, getting all buddy-buddy with Sammy after nearly driving him insane?"
Cas drew his hand back from Sam and looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably. Sam frowned, concerned.
“How do you feel?” he asked. “If you’re in pain, we’ve got some ibuprofen…”
“I’m fine,” Castiel said, shaking his head. "Where are we?"
"About an hour away from where we found you. We demon-proofed the room as much as we could, but we need to get moving before anyone finds us. We didn't want to drive too far without treating your injuries, though." Sam made a vague gesture that encompassed all of Cas. "We figured that the cuffs were interfering with your healing abilities. We weren't sure how much they interfered, if you..." Sam's voice trailed off.
"If I could die," Cas finished for him. Sam nodded, looking distinctly ill at ease.
"He's still so kind," Lucifer said, reaching out as through to try and brush some of Sam's hair back from his face. Castiel tensed. "Even after everything you put him through, he still cares." Lucifer pulled his fingers back before making contact with Sam and looked at Cas, catching the angel’s eyes before Castiel could look away. “Then again, you are the Winchesters' only weapon against the Leviathans.”
"The cuffs block most of my access to my Grace," Cas said, tearing his eyes from Lucifer. "Crowley had a witch forge them, but I know little else.” Crowley had been rather proud of the deal he’d struck to get the cuffs made and had let pieces of information slip while he’d held Castiel captive. Cas looked towards one of the far walls. “I won't be able to help you until they're removed."
"It might take a while to figure out how to remove them. I think I've seen something similar to this before, but I can't remember where. The fact that they’re witch-made helps, though," Sam said. He paused a moment, then quietly added, "Will you be OK? Will everything… grow back?"
Sam made an expansive gesture that encompassed everything from Castiel’s still-missing eye, to his fingers, his toes, and the tiny chunks of flesh Crowley had taken from various places on the angel’s body.
"Once I have my Grace, yes. I will be whole again." Cas answered. He cleared his throat. “As for your first question… I cannot die.” He wasn’t sure if his answer was in the affirmative or negative. Something must have shown in his tone, because Sam's expression became flat-out worried.
"Cas-"
The door to the motel swung open and Dean walked in. He was carrying bags, both heavy with food. One had obvious grease stains at the bottom while the other was clean, though oddly distended.
"Ah, look who's back," Lucifer said, now standing next to Dean. He poked at one of the bags. "Looks like he brought enough for two." Lucifer sent Cas a mock-apologetic look. "Guess you don't need to eat."
Cas studied the bedspread, tugging at one of the loose threads. It was true, after all.
"Hello, Dean," he said quietly. Dean stopped.
"Cas, you're awake?" Dean said. He sounded surprised. "You were supposed to text me." That sounded irritated, though not directed at Cas. Castiel felt the bond slowly wake up in the back of his mind and stilled, surprised.
He hadn’t been able to touch it in so long and now it was acting completely independent of his control.
"I would have. He just woke up," Sam replied, getting up to help Dean with the bags. He opened the grease-stained one and groaned. "Please tell me you brought him something that's not deep fried or red meat covered in cheese? He'll want something easy to digest."
"The soup and salad is for him," Dean replied, breezing past Sam with the other bag. "You're going to turn into a rabbit if you keep eating rabbit food, Samantha."
Sam huffed at the nickname but made no further protest. He headed for the small table and sat down, unpacking his bag.
"You brought me a meal?" Cas asked, looking up at Dean in surprise. Dean avoided his gaze and thrust the sack of food at him. The bond awoke more fully the closer Dean came; Cas could sense it, but couldn’t reach out to touch it or to soothe it back into dormancy. This close, Dean might be able to feel it too.
This wasn’t like the previous times he had been close to Dean. Then, the bond had been properly walled off; there had been no tiny holes to permit even the thinnest connection.
Behind Dean, Cas saw Lucifer flicker and vanish, an irritated expression on his face.
"Yeah. We weren't sure what was going on with your mojo - thought you might need something," he said. Castiel looked back at Dean and took the bag, somewhat stunned. He opened the bag to stare at the contents; this wasn’t just a meal, it wasn’t anything so simple. It was tangible proof that Dean still cared enough to try and make him well again.
Even if it was only because the Winchesters needed a weapon.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean cock his head as though he was trying to hear something just out of earshot. A quick glance at his face revealed a frown and instantly Castiel realized what must be happening. The bond was sending echoes of his emotions to Dean, though fortunately it wasn’t strong enough yet for a full transfer.
He clamped down on his feelings and shifted away from Dean. Keeping greater distance between them might be prudent until his Grace was restored and he could more effectively block the bond.
Dean shook his head as though to shake off the reverberations and dismiss them. Castiel relaxed.
"Thank you," he said, striving for normalcy. His voice came out a bit stiff and formal. He glanced from his bag of food to Sam's. There was no third sack. He didn’t look up at Dean.
"Will you be eating, too?"
Dean was quiet for a moment. Cas could distantly feel some dark emotion, a bit like pain, a bit like anger, but then they disappeared.
"Already did. I needed to get out for a bit," Dean replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly lost for words. "I've got to go. I have stuff I have to do."
Without further ado, Dean turned and stalked back to the door. The bond faded somewhat the farther Dean moved and before he had even reached the entrance to the room, Lucifer was once more sitting on Castiel’s bed.
“Sam, pack the room once you’re done. We’re not staying for dinner,” Dean said. He shut the door behind him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He didn’t glance back at Cas.
"Seems like Dean's really not happy with you, huh?" Lucifer asked Castiel. "Maybe you would have been better off on the rack. Maybe he regrets picking you up."
A motor revved outside the room, then slowly faded.
"They need me," Castiel muttered, busying himself with grabbing the small salad Dean had brought for him.
"What was that?" Sam asked.
"Nothing important," Castiel replied. He pried open the top of his salad. It was a bit awkward with the bandages and missing fingers, but he managed eventually. Lucifer peered over his shoulder.
“Hm… looks an awful lot like what Sam usually gets for lunch, doesn’t it?” he said. He shot a significant glance to Sam. “And Sammy’s eating what Dean normally does… and Dean has ‘already eaten’. Of course.”
Cas found a set of plasticware in the bag and selected the fork. He opened up the small tub of Ranch dressing and poured it over the limp leaves of his meal, doing his best to ignore what Lucifer was saying. His brow creased in concentration, struggling to handle the plastic fork while compensating for his missing digits.
Sam hesitated, watching Cas.
"He bought breakfast for you, too," he said finally, gently. Cas looked up at that, but Sam had already directed his attention to his own meal.
"And they've probably conveniently tossed it out, haven't they?" Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe they expected you to sleep for longer. Maybe they would have preferred it."
Castiel took a bite of his salad but didn't taste it. He swallowed and it fell like lead all the way down.
LINE BREAK
"Cas, how are you doing?" Sam asked, voice tentative and almost guilty. It sounded loud in the small library, echoing off the basement walls.
The library was in the basement of a house in the Chicago suburbs, owned by a hunting duo that had worked with John a few times. They supposedly specialized in witches and though they couldn’t be here to help research due to a case in northern Kansas, they had given the boys their blessing to look through their books.
Castiel wasn’t particularly surprised that a question had been asked, though the question itself was a bit unexpected. There had been little conversation all day, though the silences had been edged with tension and heavy with things unasked.
"What do you mean?" Castiel asked. Lucifer sighed, leaning against one of the bookcases next to the chair Cas had taken for his own. Lucifer had spent the drive over conjuring different images to horrify Cas with, but had seemed to tire of it when he showed no reaction. With access to his Grace still cut off, there was little Cas could do to stop him.
He’d kept a tight lid on his emotions since he had woken up, especially when Dean was nearby. As the days went on, he’d needed to do it less and less often; Dean had spent more and more time away from the motel rooms and had almost started avoiding Castiel except when strictly necessary.
The bond’s effectiveness at banishing Lucifer had weakened considerably as the distance between himself and Dean grew, but it was better than the alternative.
He stole a glance at the older Winchester, who was standing next to the bookshelves opposite Cas, as physically far away from the angel as he could get and still be in the same room. As though sensing Castiel’s gaze, Dean spoke.
"When you broke Sam's gourd, he had hallucinations," Dean explained, not looking up from the book he was reading. "He wanted to know if you were seeing Lucifer."
Sam nodded.
"Well, are you?" There was now a doppelganger of Dean standing next to Cas, staring at him with a disappointed expression. "Because you're a liability if you are, you know that, right? Sam would have been better off in a hospital where he couldn't fuck up and get one of us killed."
"I am," Castiel admitted. "Not currently-" True enough. "-but I do see him, sometimes." He paused for a moment, uncertain. "I can still be of use to you."
Dean's lips thinned. Clearly, that was not the answer he had wanted to hear. He flipped a few pages in the book he held, letting out an irritated huff of breath when one of the pages crinkled.
"I'm handling it. I don't need your help," Cas assured them. The Dean next to him laughed.
"Oh, yeah, you're doing real well so far," he said mockingly. He crouched down and leaned in to whisper into his ear. The double's breath was cold against the shell of flesh, but Castiel didn't let himself shiver. "Lying is a sin, you know."
"'Handling it'?" Sam asked doubtfully. "Cas, if you need help-"
"You heard him, Sammy. He's got it covered," Dean said shortly. He shoved his book back on the shelf and took a new one down, turning his back on Sam and Cas.
"Once these cuffs are removed and my Grace is restored, I'll be able to put up a wall between myself and Lucifer," Cas said. "I can manage until then on my own."
"Because life on the road means you can't bring everything with you. Burdens get left on the side of the highway," Lucifer told Cas, standing back up. "Better make sure you’re never a burden, little brother, or else, sooner or later, they will leave you."
Castiel looked at his book, licked one of his remaining fingers, and flipped the page.
LINE BREAK
"Do you, uh... do you want to call Daphne?" Sam asked, turning around in the front seat of the car to face Cas. The angel frowned and tilted his head slightly, confused. "I mean, it wouldn't be safe to visit, but you can probably call her..."
"Why would I do that?" Castiel asked. Dean stared intently at the road, eyes fixed and hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
"You care about her, right?" he said gruffly. "That's what you do when you care. You call, maybe drop by once in a while for a beer, shoot the breeze-" He cut himself off and Castiel's frown deepened. Dean's voice held more than the usual amount of irritation, but the angel had no idea what had upset the human. Judging by Sam's expression, both confused and concerned, neither did Sam.
Cas wanted to reach for Dean and perhaps find out why the human was so angry, but he still couldn’t touch the bond consciously. For the past few days, Dean had been keeping his emotions locked down and Cas had hardly needed to keep a tight leash on his own feelings at all.
It should have been a relief, since constantly monitoring himself for slips had been somewhat exhausting, but it had left Cas feeling more lonely than ever.
"Dean..." Sam questioned softly. Dean jerked his head to the side, dismissive. Sam sighed and turned back to Cas. "She's probably frantic. You've been missing for months." Sam looked a little guilty then, a tentative, apologetic smile on his lips. "We would have offered earlier, but we kind of... forgot you were married."
It felt like a lie, but Castiel let it pass. Dean’s expression had darkened again.
"Oh," Cas breathed. He cleared his throat. "Daphne and I were never actually married. She thought it was less suspicious for a man and a woman to live together if they claimed to be wed. It was her way of protecting me.” The less remarkable he was, the less cause anyone would have to ask questions. The claim had been a neat cover story, though they had never done anything beyond the realms of friendship. They had separate rooms and slept in separate beds, though Castiel’s room was always referred to as ‘the guest room’. As he had had no possessions of his own, it wasn’t difficult to keep the room impersonal.
Castiel fell silent, feeling a brief pang of sorrow for the woman who had helped him. It did help to know that a soul as pure as hers would most certainly have gone to Heaven, but he regretted the loss. It had been good to know someone who didn't know what he was and yet cared for him regardless.
"Because Dean doesn't, right, Cassie?" Lucifer asked, casually curled up on the seat next to Cas. His knees were braced against the back of the driver's seat and were level with his head. The position looked horribly cramped, but it didn't seem to bother the archangel. "You may be one of the nicer dicks with wings, but he never called you when he was with Lisa. He only called you when he needed you.” Lucifer shrugged. “Now, you have the worth of an infant. That's why Dean's been irritated; because you’re useless."
Castiel dug his nails into his palm, but they weren't long enough to pierce the meat. He again resisted the urge to reach for Dean, vowing that he could get through this on his own. He was strong enough.
Still, he couldn't help thinking about what Lucifer had said. Since Sam had jumped into the Pit, all those years ago, not once had Dean or Sam called him just because they wished for his company. There had been no offers of shared beverages or attempts to fire guns into the wind. If those were the things someone did when they cared...
Castiel tugged at the collar of his borrowed shirt. He still wore Dean’s clothes, most of the time. They simply didn’t have the budget or the time to get him his own, though Dean had insisted on stopping by a Wal-Mart to purchase Cas his own underclothes.
"Even if she isn't your wife, she's still a friend," Dean said, breaking Castiel's train of thought. "Just... give her a call, all right? You know your home phone number?"
"I do," Cas confirmed. Sam started to dig his phone out of his pocket, obviously intending for Cas to use it, but the angel continued, shaking his head in silent refusal. "But I can't call her. Crowley's men already knew where I lived as Emmanuel. When they didn't return, Crowley himself sought me out and found Daphne."
He heard Sam's sharp intake of breath but continued anyway.
"After finding out my location, he killed her and came for me."
The car went almost perfectly silent, only the muted sound of the wind outside and the humans' breathing was audible.
"Wow, Cas... I'm so sorry," Sam said. Dean remained silent, a mix of regret and inward-turning anger, but no shock on his face. Dean must have realized Daphne’s probable fate once he’d found out what had happened to Castiel.
"Why?" Cas asked. "It was not your fault that Crowley killed her."
"We could have done something," Sam protested. "We could have taken her with us, or warned her. Something."
"No, you couldn't," Cas replied evenly. "She would have been no safer with you. Your lives are dangerous; wasn't that why you left me in the hospital?"
The car fell silent again.
"Cas..." Sam finally choked out, after almost a minute. Cas looked at him, puzzled by the clear distress. He hadn't meant it as an accusation, just an observation.
"Of course you didn't mean to accuse them of anything, Cas. Of course you didn't," Lucifer said silkily. Cas shut his mouth and didn't speak.
After a few more minutes of tense silence, Dean reached over and turned the radio on.
TBC...
Part 4