The Monsters that Kill the Nightmares - Part XI: October - Epilogue
October - Epilogue
It’s funny and it doesn’t make sense but even with another person in their bed, it’s easier than ever for Dean to sneak away in the middle of the night. He does it for their benefit, he tells himself. He does it so he doesn’t have to rip into them constantly - it makes them all weak when he does.
So he sneaks away, finds a girl, makes her scream, slits her throat, and leaves her somewhere. He’s getting sloppy, he knows, but he can’t be bothered to care. Doesn’t care if he gets caught or if he gets them all caught and he should feel bad and awful and terrible but he doesn’t… not until the night he comes back to a very worried Cas who had planted himself by the door, waiting for Dean to return.
The look Cas gives Dean as he tries to sneak in almost makes him turn around and leave. He’s about to be scolded, he can feel it - just like a damn child. But Cas doesn’t scold him. He doesn’t raise his voice or even open his mouth. He simply walks over to Dean… and hugs him. Dean’s frozen, doesn’t know what to do because for all the fucking they’ve done and the puppy pile they create in bed, Cas has never flat out hugged him before.
“I missed you,” Cas states as if that answers all Dean’s question, breathing normally again, like he hasn’t since he woke up and found the bed void of Dean.
Dean can’t help the twinge of guilt that grips his torso at that. He’s supposed to be responsible for the man clinging to him now and the man still passed out in the bed, and he’s being nothing but irresponsible, putting all of them at risk like this, but he doesn’t know how to stop.
Dean wraps his arms around Cas and Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder, balls his fists in Dean’s jacket and Dean’s suddenly acutely aware of the blood staining his sleeves and his front so he starts to panic, starts to pull away. Cas clings to him even harder instead and mumbles something so quietly Dean can barely hear him.
“Cas, babe, I need you to speak up.”
“I said, ‘it’s okay, you know. I don’t hate you for it.’ You looked like you were about to panic and I didn’t want you to do that.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“He doesn’t hate you either. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t hate you. We’re scared and concerned, but we could never hate you.”
Dean closes his eyes, squeezes Cas tighter, and breathes, tries to focus on anything and everything besides how big of a failure feels like.
“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and then come back to bed okay?”
Dean nods but doesn’t let go. He doesn’t think he could move even if he had to.
“Dean, what’s wrong?”
“I’m - I’m sorry, Cas. I’m being selfish and I know it. But I don’t know how to stop, Cas. I can’t do it. I need it.” Dean’s choking back sobs, trying and failing to keep himself in check.
“I know, Dean, I know but we really need to get you cleaned up. Come on.” Cas lets go of Dean’s jacket to reach down and grab his hand to lead him to the bathroom. It’s bright and cold and too white and too clean and it sets Dean’s teeth on edge. Cas closes the lid to the toilet seat and instructs Dean to sit down. Dean refuses at first, not even daring to step foot in the room itself. He doesn’t want to taint it, disrupt it. He wants to keep this - whatever ’this’ is that’s wrong with him - to himself. But Cas begs him to, says he’ll feel better if he’s clean. So Dean inches into the room and tries not to touch anything. Cas sits on the edge of the bathtub, testing the water temperature and reaching for a rag and the little bar of motel soap. Dean doesn’t know what to do with the hands in his lap so he fidgets, tries to clean the gunk out from under his nails, but it doesn’t work, only makes things worse.
Cas grabs Dean’s hand, scrubs the cloth over his palm, up his wrist, across the back of his hand immediately the skin below is clean and visible. Dean stares at his hand like it’s some magical new growth and Cas can’t help but laugh which startles Dean.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“Cas starts.
“It’s okay,” Dean gets out through a smile. “Really, Cas, I promise,” he reassures at the look on Cas’s face.
In the bright light of the bathroom, Cas is able to see the full scope of blood spatter on Dean.
“It might be easier if we simply step in the shower, you know.” Dean nods before attempting to pull his clothes off. Somehow he’s childlike and grown up and so old all at once and Cas can’t help but smile at the man in front of him. He has to help Dean strip before he can turn the water onto the overhead spray, slide the curtain shut, undress himself and step in, pulling Dean with him.
The spray is warm and fast, perfect for washing off the blood that pools at the bottom of the tub, curling against the stream, bright and angry against the white before disappearing down the drain. Cas grabs the bar of soap again, lathers the rag and grabs Dean’s other arm, carefully rubbing at the layer of blood still there. He scrubs at every inch of Dean he can see until he’s satisfied with how clean Dean is.
Dean leans his forehead on Cas’s, grips his shoulders tightly, and breathes - slowly and deeply at first, like he hasn’t been able to all night. Soon Cas is breathing with him, every breath shared between them and then Dean grips Cas’s face in his hands and whispers “thank you” before smashing their lips together, groans of pleasure and frustration permeating the air. Dean pushes Cas into the wall behind him, stepping out from under the spray Cas had so diligently placed him under.
Dean’s slow and gentle and so unlike his normal self that Cas should be worried, but Cas just had his hands on nearly every inch of that body, he knows it’s him. Dean’s kissing his neck and collarbones, grabbing Cas’s leg and hitching it around his waist. Cas is so hard and he doesn’t know when that happened but he hisses at the first warm touch of their cocks and it’s so warm and so great that Cas can’t breathe. He just arches into Dean, grabs his chin to bring their mouths together and moans into the kiss.
Dean buries his hand in Cas’s hair, grip tight but not painful. It pulls keening noises from Cas and Dean pulls harder relishing in the control he has over Cas. Cas is shaking with want underneath him, every nerve on fire, his hands digging into Dean’s shoulder to pull him closer, hips in constant motion, searching out even a tiny bit of friction, weight of his body balanced precariously between Dean and the shower wall. Dean bit at his chin, his neck, his shoulder, one hand still locked in his hair; other hand working between them, pressure of his cock against Cas’s sending pleasure up his spine.
Dean pulls away from him, turns him around and pins him to wall. “I need you to stay still, Cas. Please.”
Cas goes limp against the wall as he feels Dean crowd him against it. Dean’s mouth is rough against Cas’s neck, biting and sucking, creating bruises in the skin that are sure to be there for a week. But Cas doesn’t mind, never really has. He likes the little reminders of who he belongs to and who can take care of him. He feels Dean’s nails dig into his hips and he arches his back, presses himself closer to Dean. Dean’s holding himself back, doesn’t want to hurt the man in front of him.
“Do what you need to, Dean. I can take it.”
But then Dean is pulling away, stepping out of the shower and leaving Cas all alone. He hears the bathroom door click before it hits him, before he can even acknowledge what just happened. He reaches to turn off the shower, grabs a towel from the rack above the toilet to wrap around his waist, and chases after Dean.
He finds him curled up under the covers of the unused bed - the one they never use unless something’s wrong between the three of them or they’ve managed to completely destroy the other one.
Cas stands in the wan light of the bathroom, debating whether or not he should crawl into Dean’s bed with him. It takes Cas a moment to realize Dean is crying - something Cas hasn’t seen him do before. He’s not sure what to do so he decides to test his luck and crawls in bed behind Dean, prays to God he won’t kick him out of bed. It’s a moment before he does anything but lie there, before he’s wrapping his arms around Dean and Dean is burying himself in Cas’s arms, pressing himself as close to Cas as possible.
Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep; doesn’t remember when his sniffles turned to snores or when Sam crawled into bed with them. He can’t bring himself to get out of bed when he wakes up. Sam and Cas stay in bed with him, demonstrating their forgiveness with their lips on his and each other and the way they take care of him. But he’s content to lie where he is, wrapped in the arms of his brother and the boy who turned out to be more of an angel than a burden.