My Almost Lover
My Almost Lover
Title: My Almost Lover
Author:jstbecause
Genre: Romance
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Warnings: unbeta'd, Teenage AU, ghost!fic, sexual references, character death, language, underage sex between two characters (both 15)
Word Count: 3007
Summary: Castiel visits Dean unexpectedly in the middle of the night.
He's having that dream again.
The one where he felt like he was trapped. He couldn't tell where he was, it was so dark his eyes were desperately seeking any sign of light. His entire body felt like it was being pressed down into cold, hard ground. The invisible force added more pressure as he struggled to break free. It felt like cinder blocks by the ton were weighing into him and the only part of his body he was able to move was his head. He gasped for air, and tried to remain calm, even under the circumstances. He made another attempt to free himself but it resulted in more sharp pressure from the force and made him hiss in shock.
"Dean?"
He heard his name being called in the distance. The voice didn't sound familiar, nor like anything at all really. Just a faint breath being shouted down a corridor.
"Dean?" The voice sounds more annoyed this time like it's only speaking loud enough for Dean to hear, but growing progressively angry that there's no response. Dean contemplates answering the voice. He wonders if he's able to speak at all seeing as he's struggling for small breaths as it is. And what if the voice is the source of the invisible force? What if someone's purposely inflicting this pain on Dean? Dean's had this dream several times before. He remembers the agonizing pressure on his body. The harsh coldness of the ground on the back of his neck. Even the underlying fear of being crushed to death in a dream. But Dean never recalls a presence, or a voice. He's always alone in this instance trying, but failing to escape. In a moment of desperation, Dean weighs the options and decides to take a chance.
"Help," He manages. "Someone help me. I'm trapped."
"Dean." The voice gets closer, louder even. To the point where Dean can feel the presence so closely to him that it sends a shockwave of chills on his skin and a jolt of fear to his heart.
"No! Stop! Someone, please!" In a last effort to shield himself from the danger moving towards him, Dean clenches his eyes shut immediately regretting the decision to call out. His eyes are so tightly shut that he can feel the wetness of a few tears trickle out of them. He moves again, trying to break lose but he’s met with more severe pressure from the force.
"Dean!" The voice shouts gruffly.
In an instant, Dean's awaken by his own screams. Sitting upright in his bed, clutching his sweat-drenched sheets trying to hold onto anything real and bring his breath to normal. His entire body is trembling. His breaths coming out shaky and uneven.
"Dean." The voice comes from the side of his bed, this time, the tone recognizably anxious. This time there's a figure with the voice. "Are you alright?" It asks him.
Dean clumsily throws his hand over to his nightstand feeling around for the lamp switch and in the process knocks over a picture frame that makes an audible thump on the tabletop before falling onto the carpeted floor. Dean switches the light on and is able to make out the figure.
"What the hell…Cas?" Dean whispers sharply and wonders how he hasn't woken the entire household by now. "Dude what the hell are you doing here this late?" He glances over to his digital clock's red digits. "It's three a.m."
"I know." Cas' voice is effortlessly low. He walks gracefully across the carpet and steps further into the light. "You were having a nightmare." It's not a question, it's a worried statement.
"Yes. I was," Dean admitted. "And as nice as it is for you to pop in and check on me like this, it's creepy as hell." Dean had already told Castiel he hadn't been sleeping well for the last few weeks and this worried him. It was because of his worrying that Dean immediately regretted the decision to tell him about it. Not that Dean hated sharing stuff like that with Castiel, he was after all his best friend, but no one needs the burden of Dean's issues. But even so, Dean admired the fact that Castiel cared enough to here about his problems. Even if it was just about an eerie nightmare. Dean yawned and rubbed the tired from his eyes. "Man, you need to go home anyways. You're dad is gonna be worried as fuck."
"No, he doesn't even know I'm.. gone." Cas draws out the last word like he's swallowing nails. Dean tries not to dwell so much on the small gesture. “So was it the one where you were being crushed by something?” Castiel asks him.
“The dream? Uhm, yeah it was. Same old crap though. Except this time I heard your voice calling out to me. “ Dean says. A look of relief washes over Castiel’s face.
“I’m glad you’re alright. But still the fact that you have this nightmare troubles me.” Castiel says genuinely concerned.
“You and me both.” Dean chuckles and Castiel’s lips curl into a subtle smile. “So what’s this about then? Just dropping by to see me freak out in my sleep?” Dean asks him. But instead of a response Castiel treads over to the wall that faces Dean’s bed. With his back to the wall, he crosses his arms and rests his head on the wall staring up at the ceiling.
"Do you remember the first time our families vacationed together?" Castiel asks out of the blue.
Dean scrunches his face at Castiel‘s odd behavior. "At Lake Chitaqua? Yeah man that place was awesome," Dean started to lay back down as another yawn escaped him. He fluffed his pillow underneath his head and closed his eyes. "Was a friggin' miracle we made it there in one piece with your dad's crazy driving." He smiles fondly at the memory of hot summer road trips spent cramped in the backseat of a car with three other kids. Him and Cas seated in the middle and Anna and Sam seated on either sides of them. They‘d drive for what felt like days with nothing but road trip games and loud obnoxious sing-a-longs to rock music to keep them from boredom. Dean, only seven at the time, remembers being mad at a four year old Sam because he‘d got the window seat Dean wanted so badly. He was upset for awhile, but he got the sit with Cas in the end and that was better than some window seat. "Dude there weren't even any seatbelts in that thing. Couldn't huv' been safe.." Dean was drifting off to sleep again but still trying to hold the conversation.
"We all used to race down to the lake just so we wouldn’t have to help unpack the luggage and car,“ Cas smiled slightly, eyes still focused on the ceiling. "But our parents would understand because we’d been locked in a car for eight hours. My dad would park the car and we’d all shove our way out toward the lake. I ran as fast as I could but Anna would always win and beat all of us. She was so fast." Castiel remembers good-naturedly.
"Freak of nature that kid. Like a racecar. But with legs." Dean mumbles. Dean and Cas both share a small chuckle at the thought of Anna’s red hair in the wind, pale skin radiating off the sunlight as she speeds out to the lake. “She’s four years older so maybe that’s why she‘d win. There’s no way a girl other than Anna could beat us Cas.“ Dean argues.
He remembers how much he misses Anna and wonders how she’s doing. Wonders how college is and what New York is like. He makes an effort to remember to call her later. Dean’s smile is half smashed into his pillow and all he wants to do is sleep but the light is still on and Cas is still here.
"Dean," Castiel’s footsteps pad across his carpet with barely any sound, and stops at the foot of Dean‘s bed. "That's one of my most cherished memories. We couldn't have been more than seven but I still remember that first year. Everything was so different. Our moms would always be joined at the hip, they were practically the same person. And our dads were at the grill sipping on coronas and listening to some game on the radio. Your mother is like a mother to Anna and I and my mother is..was like a mother to you and Sam.” Castiel says.
Dean reluctantly sits upright in his bed again, meeting Castiel’s eyes; they’re glimmering with tears at the thought of his mother. Dean stares at Cas helplessly, refraining to ask a stupid question like: “Are you okay?”
He remembers Castiel’s mother, Bethany, well. He remembers her strawberry sun kissed hair and the way she wore it down all the time. He remembers her impossibly green eyes. Her laugh. Her love for her family. For him, Sammy. And her best friends. Dean remembers afternoon arguments with Castiel when they were kids and how he swore he would never speak to Cas again. On days like those, he remembers Bethany sitting with him while he cried because he was so upset Cas hadn’t come and found him to apologize. She never pushed him talk about it, just wrapped her arm around him as they sat on her front porch. She was one of the most caring women Dean had ever known. She wasn’t just a second mother to Dean, but a confidant and friend as well.
Dean remembers the cancer too. That year was long and grueling for everyone. He still wonders how much a life can change so much in the course of twelve months and how a life can end in the same amount of time. On an ordinary day, with ordinary weather and ordinary people, Bethany died. The world lost an extraordinary woman that day.
The summer Castiel turned fourteen, they sold the lake house down by Lake Chitaqua. There was no bullshit excuses behind it and that was the end of it.
“I miss her too.” Dean says finally. Castiel looks on at Dean solemnly and Dean finds it hard to read his expression. Slowly, Castiel’s eyes leave Deans and he lefts out a faint laugh.
"Do you remember our first time together Dean?” Castiel asks looking up at the ceiling.
"Yeah..Cas I remember. How could I forget that? What's with the walk down memory lane?" Dean asks suspiciously growing nervous of Castiel’s nature.
"That spot," Cas looks up and points to a spot on Dean’s ceiling. “I remember looking up at that spot during most of that night.” Cas says flatly and Dean draws his eyes up to see Cas pointing to a small crack on his ceiling over his bed.
That night he and Castiel slept together for the first time was weird and wonderful. It’s close to three years prior now, but Dean can still recall his mixture of feelings that night. Most of them centered around the fact that he was in love with his best friend. They agreed to lose their virginities to one another but only if they remained just friends afterwards. It was Dean’s idea. Just like it was Dean’s idea to be each other’s first kiss when they were twelve years old watching some terrible horror film on the lumpy couch in Castiel’s room.
It was awkward and nothing like Dean had saw in the movies. But it was his first time and their first time together so he would never forget about it.
“Cas, I don’t really understand. What’s this about?” Dean is honestly curious.
“Nothing. That was just when I really knew.” Castiel says plainly.
"When what Cas?"
"Yes, I'm almost certain that's when. That was a special time for me." Castiel looks at Dean. Dean starts to realize he won’t be getting any straight answers from Cas tonight.
"When what exactly? And that was special? Dude we were like fifteen, it was incredibly awkward and a little painful for you I recall." Dean furrows his brow at Cas.
"Yes I know but you never forget your first right?" Cas says matter-of-factly still avoiding Dean’s first question. “You know what I’ve realized? Most, if not all my best memories, were with you.“ Castiel smiles down at the floor and lets out a huff of air. "Dean," Cas pauses so long it’s as if he's trying to thoughtfully choose his words. "Something.. has happened."
"What? To who? You? Are you alright? Cas-" Dean unwraps the sheet from his body, leaving his bed and rushes over to Cas reaching out his hand. But Cas swiftly backs away from the bed slipping from Dean’s almost-grip.
"No!" Cas panics and Dean stops in his tracks. "It's just. Tomorrow will be.. different Dean. You're going to hear a lot of things and this entire moment right now will be hard to understand. You'll look back on it and probably think ‘what the hell’ but it's just one of those things you know? It's crazy until it's you and I know.." Cas continues to ramble and Dean tries to relax his body but becomes tense with Cas' ever-growing explanation.
"Cas. Okay you're really not making any sense here man."
"Dean. Just..get some sleep."
"What?"
"Sleep. Close your eyes and dream. You know that thing people generally do for eight to ten hours a day."
"Ha ha. Cas this isn't funny.Stop acting mysterious and shit and tell-”
"It's fine Dean just get some rest."
Hesitantly, Dean listens to his friend. He makes his way back to bed and sits on the edge of it as he looks up at a standing Cas.
"I don't know what's going on with you. But I'm here if you need me," He stifles out a yawn. "I'm so tired right now this is probably a dream." He chuckles lightly.
"No. That's what you need to know Dean. This is absolutely not a dream." Cas says sternly and Dean is too tired to question it anymore.
"Okay whatever, night Cas." Dean's head hits the pillow and he can't believe how quickly he's asleep. And he can only guess it's Cas who turns off the lamp and bids him goodbye.
Dean wakes up the next morning feeling groggy and confused. He squints at his clock that reads 9 o'clock. Dean swings his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He glances around his room and with no traces of Cas, wonders if he was having some freaky dream within a nightmare. He stands and hears an audible crack of glass under his feet. Dean bend over and picks up the forgotten picture frame he knocked over just hours before. He looks down at the picture of his ten year old self and best friend making weird faces at the camera. He smiles silently and places it back on the nightstand, remembering to replace the frame later.
When Dean stalks his way down the stairs to the kitchen, he finds his brother and parents looking on in silence. His brother eerily quiet at the dining table, his father with folded arms by the window, and his mother near the stove with the phone idly in her hand.
“Guys, whats..going on?” Dean asks carefully. Simultaneously all their eyes are on him, still not muttering a word. He notices his mother’s bloodshot eyes and tearstained cheeks.
"Mom, is everything alright?" Dean is at her side instantly.
"No Dean," She lets a few tears fall before she can catch them with her hand. "Sweetie. It's Cas. Castiel's dead."
"What? That’s crazy, no he's not. No. He was just here." Suddenly Dean feels sick and his breath quickens as the room slowly starts to spin. It feels like his lungs are being crushed like in his nightmare but someone a million times worse because he’s certain this isn’t a dream. But if it isn’t a dream it must be some sick joke.
"Dean, honey, he's dead. His body was found in the creek a few hours ago. The police say he jumped off the bridge last night some time around ten o‘clock," Mary struggles with the words but manages, "I am so sorry honey." And her eyes fill with tears but now they’re coming too fast for her to wipe all of them away. And now Sammy’s crying. And his dad is biting his lip with glistening eyes staring out that damned window again. And they’re all acting insane, like Castiel was really gone.
Why was she saying that? How could he be dead? Suicide?
His best friend, the one he’d been in love with since he was seven couldn’t be dead. The one who loved photography and carried a camera with him wherever he went. The one that loved Coldplay even if Dean told him it wasn’t real music. The one that liked pineapples on his pizza and ketchup with his scrambled eggs. The one that hated Dean sometimes and told him when he was being an asshole. The one that loved watching old movies because they reminded him of Saturday nights with his mom. The one that he cried with after his mother died. The one that took care of his broken-hearted father after his mother was gone and Anna left for college. The one that watched his pill popping father turn into nothing more than an empty shell of the great man he once was. The one that gave up love and told Dean he couldn’t love him back when Dean confessed his love to Cas because he’s seen what a love lost can do to a person. The one that snuck into his room to talk about long over summer vacations and awkward first times.
Castiel wouldn’t kill himself. He was not dead.
"What’s wrong with you people?,” Dean shouted. “Castiel isn’t gone! He’s not d…” But Dean's words are cut off by his own tears. "No."