[Fic] What It's Come To - Dean + Castiel - Pre-Slash
Title: What It’s Come To
Author: StolenChilde
Disclaimer: Boys belong to Kripke and Co.
Rating: G
Warning: Spoilers, Pre-Slash, Mild H/C
Pairing/Characters: Dean + Castiel
Spoilers/Timeline: Everything up to and including 8.16, occurs post 8.17 (Extended preview used as inspiration)
Word Count: 1400
Summary: The stranger is gone, but is there a new one in his place?
Author’s Notes: Written for DeanCasWeek13 on Tumblr. This fic is based on a theory I’m playing with which was inspired by the knowledge of character spoilers for next season and a scant few seconds of the extended preview. First proper thing I’ve written in a while that I didn’t have to force myself to write so I hope you enjoy.
What It’s Come To
Dean came in the room to check on Castiel and was surprised to see him sitting up, forehead cradled carefully in his palm. It was strange to see him in nothing but his untucked white button down with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks without the belt. Even his socks had been discarded.
“Ah…” Dean felt the absurd need to avert his eyes, almost as if he was seeing Castiel naked for the first time.
“It’s strange,” Castiel commented lowly, staring at the hand that wasn’t supporting his aching head.
“Strange?”
“Yes, I was warm. I undressed. It’s strange having to feel that.”
Dean nodded and walked further into his room, he briefly contemplated sitting on the chair facing the bed, but Castiel was facing the opposite direction and this conversation wouldn’t serve well with Dean staring at Castiel’s back. So instead, he came over and sat gingerly next to Castiel on the side of the bed, sneaking glances at his profile and spending and inordinate amount of time realizing just how straight Castiel’s nose was. Or Jimmy’s nose? Regardless, it was a nice feature and Dean never, ever thought he would think that way about someone’s damn nose. Dean shook his head slightly wondering if that was prompted by too much to drink or not enough. He sighed then shifted then tightened his jaw.
“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“And here I thought Sam was the one with a penchant for asking stupid questions,” Castiel remarked dryly, turning narrowed eyes to Dean then shaking his own head. “I’m sorry,” Castiel added, “that was uncalled for. I’ve been better, is the honest answer but I find I can sit up again, so I’m sure that’s an improvement.”
“Sounds like.”
Dean danced his gaze away and around his bunker bedroom. He spent time on the curve of each blade he had displayed on the wall, flitting across his albums, his typewriter, the near empty side that for some reason he never got around to decorating, that now held Castiel’s discarded clothing. Dean realized how strange it was that his room felt full all of the sudden with the presence of another body in there, warm and breathing. Dean could hear each of Castiel’s gentle inhales and felt the sleeve of Castiel’s shirt brush his own with each minute rise and fall of his shoulder blades. They had to sit close, they weren’t small men and that was the reason Dean gave himself for the lack of space between them.
Men. It was true now. The being next to him was just a man.
“Jesus,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“I doubt he’ll be of much use at the moment,” Castiel spoke up, startling Dean.
Dean looked away guiltily but not before he caught Castiel’s faint, tired smile.
There was one thing Dean had been wondering about: “So ah, I gotta ask… Why did it hit so hard this time? The whole um…” Dean gestured vaguely.
“Humanity ‘thing?’” Castiel finished for him, his smile widening fractionally but eyes still a little sad.
“Yeah, that.”
Castiel sighed and finally removed his head from his palm, looking up at the ceiling as if the not-so-mysterious Heaven above could still provide him with answers. It couldn’t, it was silent to him now, cut off and removed but the gesture was instinctive and perhaps that instinctiveness was all the more telling of his humanity than the headache or the lack of temperature control.
“Because it was quick,” Castiel finally spoke over the sound of their oddly in-sync breathing.
“Wasn’t it last time though?” Dean furrowed his brow, trying to understand without Castiel having to explain too much, it was probably painful for the angel to revisit these moments. Dean continued, “I mean, after Van Nuys, you did that magic trick with the sigil and then… Just incredibly human.” If the quoting was intentional neither commented on it.
Castiel nodded once then lifted a shoulder. “That was the final… ah… ‘straw,’ as they say. However, I had been falling gradually up until that point. The trip to Van Nuys just took most of the last of my reserves. I woke up relatively human but there was in fact, ‘just a speck,’ as Pestilence observed. But this time I went from a greater powered angel than I had been after my initial resurrection to entirely human in, what’s that saying? One fallen sweep?”
“One fell swoop,” Dean corrected mildly. He nodded. “Huh. So because you-you saved me, that was it?”
“Naomi was controlling my allotted strength. I went against the conditioning and when she suspected what I was doing she began decreasing that allotment. After you di-died,” the last word came out with a clear break in Castiel’s voice and he shut blue eyes at the memory. “After I killed you, I needed all the strength I had remaining to return what I stole. Thankfully, your soul hadn’t travelled far but it did take everything I had left to return it and repair the damage, yes.”
Dean felt guilt flare hot and white again, his stomach rolling with it. He didn’t blame Cas, not at all, not this time. Castiel wasn’t in control of his own actions and the fact that he broke that control pretty well made up for losing it in the first place.
Angels were tricky sons of bitches, Dean had known this for the last several years; so no, he couldn’t blame Castiel.
If anything, he blamed himself, he blamed himself for being too weak and letting Castiel let go, he should have tried harder. Even if Castiel had shown him what really happened in Purgatory, it was still on Dean’s shoulders that he didn’t manage to get Castiel out. That was his problem. Now, because of that, Castiel fell into hands that only wanted to harm him and had to sacrifice everything he was - again - to save Dean. Dean’s hand curled into a tight fist on his thigh and he clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth ached.
Dean was startled when suddenly he found his clenched fist clasped in a gentle, warm hand. It was comforting despite dry, chapped skin. Dean’s eyes shot back to Castiel’s face and found the angel was looking at him fully now.
“I know what you’re thinking and you have to stop. Just because I can’t read your mind anymore doesn’t mean I can’t read you, Dean Winchester. Listen to me, My Friend, once and for all: this is not your fault, these were my decisions. I too am now a being of Free Will, Dean. Do you understand? I chose to do these things for you, for Sam, for the world and even a little bit for myself. Purgatory was what I deserved for the things I did and I chose to take my punishment. I chose to break free of Naomi’s control because I could not be responsible for causing so much suffering, not again. And I could absolutely not be the reason you got hurt. We all have our crosses to bear, Dean. You have yours and I have mine. Let’s not take one another’s needlessly. The only one who should feel guilty right now, is me. You did everything you could for me this past year. All the fault this time is entirely my own. So just stop.”
Dean found himself gaping at the angel for several moments then he felt a slow grin curl his lips. “Jeeze, Cas, don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in one sitting before.”
“Dean,” Castiel glowered. “I’m serious.”
Dean’s grin softened and he nodded, reaching out a hand to grasp Castiel’s shoulder then thought better of it and pulled the other man into an embrace. How easily Castiel came to his chest was a little jarring but nice all the same. It seemed to be a repeat of their reunion hug in Purgatory but slowly, Dean heard the material of Castiel’s clothes shift against the bedspread and the angel wrapped his arms around Dean in return.
“Thanks, Cas. I mean it. Thanks,” Dean murmured in the angel’s hair.
“You’re welcome.”
End
Author: StolenChilde
Disclaimer: Boys belong to Kripke and Co.
Rating: G
Warning: Spoilers, Pre-Slash, Mild H/C
Pairing/Characters: Dean + Castiel
Spoilers/Timeline: Everything up to and including 8.16, occurs post 8.17 (Extended preview used as inspiration)
Word Count: 1400
Summary: The stranger is gone, but is there a new one in his place?
Author’s Notes: Written for DeanCasWeek13 on Tumblr. This fic is based on a theory I’m playing with which was inspired by the knowledge of character spoilers for next season and a scant few seconds of the extended preview. First proper thing I’ve written in a while that I didn’t have to force myself to write so I hope you enjoy.
What It’s Come To
Dean came in the room to check on Castiel and was surprised to see him sitting up, forehead cradled carefully in his palm. It was strange to see him in nothing but his untucked white button down with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks without the belt. Even his socks had been discarded.
“Ah…” Dean felt the absurd need to avert his eyes, almost as if he was seeing Castiel naked for the first time.
“It’s strange,” Castiel commented lowly, staring at the hand that wasn’t supporting his aching head.
“Strange?”
“Yes, I was warm. I undressed. It’s strange having to feel that.”
Dean nodded and walked further into his room, he briefly contemplated sitting on the chair facing the bed, but Castiel was facing the opposite direction and this conversation wouldn’t serve well with Dean staring at Castiel’s back. So instead, he came over and sat gingerly next to Castiel on the side of the bed, sneaking glances at his profile and spending and inordinate amount of time realizing just how straight Castiel’s nose was. Or Jimmy’s nose? Regardless, it was a nice feature and Dean never, ever thought he would think that way about someone’s damn nose. Dean shook his head slightly wondering if that was prompted by too much to drink or not enough. He sighed then shifted then tightened his jaw.
“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“And here I thought Sam was the one with a penchant for asking stupid questions,” Castiel remarked dryly, turning narrowed eyes to Dean then shaking his own head. “I’m sorry,” Castiel added, “that was uncalled for. I’ve been better, is the honest answer but I find I can sit up again, so I’m sure that’s an improvement.”
“Sounds like.”
Dean danced his gaze away and around his bunker bedroom. He spent time on the curve of each blade he had displayed on the wall, flitting across his albums, his typewriter, the near empty side that for some reason he never got around to decorating, that now held Castiel’s discarded clothing. Dean realized how strange it was that his room felt full all of the sudden with the presence of another body in there, warm and breathing. Dean could hear each of Castiel’s gentle inhales and felt the sleeve of Castiel’s shirt brush his own with each minute rise and fall of his shoulder blades. They had to sit close, they weren’t small men and that was the reason Dean gave himself for the lack of space between them.
Men. It was true now. The being next to him was just a man.
“Jesus,” Dean muttered under his breath.
“I doubt he’ll be of much use at the moment,” Castiel spoke up, startling Dean.
Dean looked away guiltily but not before he caught Castiel’s faint, tired smile.
There was one thing Dean had been wondering about: “So ah, I gotta ask… Why did it hit so hard this time? The whole um…” Dean gestured vaguely.
“Humanity ‘thing?’” Castiel finished for him, his smile widening fractionally but eyes still a little sad.
“Yeah, that.”
Castiel sighed and finally removed his head from his palm, looking up at the ceiling as if the not-so-mysterious Heaven above could still provide him with answers. It couldn’t, it was silent to him now, cut off and removed but the gesture was instinctive and perhaps that instinctiveness was all the more telling of his humanity than the headache or the lack of temperature control.
“Because it was quick,” Castiel finally spoke over the sound of their oddly in-sync breathing.
“Wasn’t it last time though?” Dean furrowed his brow, trying to understand without Castiel having to explain too much, it was probably painful for the angel to revisit these moments. Dean continued, “I mean, after Van Nuys, you did that magic trick with the sigil and then… Just incredibly human.” If the quoting was intentional neither commented on it.
Castiel nodded once then lifted a shoulder. “That was the final… ah… ‘straw,’ as they say. However, I had been falling gradually up until that point. The trip to Van Nuys just took most of the last of my reserves. I woke up relatively human but there was in fact, ‘just a speck,’ as Pestilence observed. But this time I went from a greater powered angel than I had been after my initial resurrection to entirely human in, what’s that saying? One fallen sweep?”
“One fell swoop,” Dean corrected mildly. He nodded. “Huh. So because you-you saved me, that was it?”
“Naomi was controlling my allotted strength. I went against the conditioning and when she suspected what I was doing she began decreasing that allotment. After you di-died,” the last word came out with a clear break in Castiel’s voice and he shut blue eyes at the memory. “After I killed you, I needed all the strength I had remaining to return what I stole. Thankfully, your soul hadn’t travelled far but it did take everything I had left to return it and repair the damage, yes.”
Dean felt guilt flare hot and white again, his stomach rolling with it. He didn’t blame Cas, not at all, not this time. Castiel wasn’t in control of his own actions and the fact that he broke that control pretty well made up for losing it in the first place.
Angels were tricky sons of bitches, Dean had known this for the last several years; so no, he couldn’t blame Castiel.
If anything, he blamed himself, he blamed himself for being too weak and letting Castiel let go, he should have tried harder. Even if Castiel had shown him what really happened in Purgatory, it was still on Dean’s shoulders that he didn’t manage to get Castiel out. That was his problem. Now, because of that, Castiel fell into hands that only wanted to harm him and had to sacrifice everything he was - again - to save Dean. Dean’s hand curled into a tight fist on his thigh and he clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth ached.
Dean was startled when suddenly he found his clenched fist clasped in a gentle, warm hand. It was comforting despite dry, chapped skin. Dean’s eyes shot back to Castiel’s face and found the angel was looking at him fully now.
“I know what you’re thinking and you have to stop. Just because I can’t read your mind anymore doesn’t mean I can’t read you, Dean Winchester. Listen to me, My Friend, once and for all: this is not your fault, these were my decisions. I too am now a being of Free Will, Dean. Do you understand? I chose to do these things for you, for Sam, for the world and even a little bit for myself. Purgatory was what I deserved for the things I did and I chose to take my punishment. I chose to break free of Naomi’s control because I could not be responsible for causing so much suffering, not again. And I could absolutely not be the reason you got hurt. We all have our crosses to bear, Dean. You have yours and I have mine. Let’s not take one another’s needlessly. The only one who should feel guilty right now, is me. You did everything you could for me this past year. All the fault this time is entirely my own. So just stop.”
Dean found himself gaping at the angel for several moments then he felt a slow grin curl his lips. “Jeeze, Cas, don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in one sitting before.”
“Dean,” Castiel glowered. “I’m serious.”
Dean’s grin softened and he nodded, reaching out a hand to grasp Castiel’s shoulder then thought better of it and pulled the other man into an embrace. How easily Castiel came to his chest was a little jarring but nice all the same. It seemed to be a repeat of their reunion hug in Purgatory but slowly, Dean heard the material of Castiel’s clothes shift against the bedspread and the angel wrapped his arms around Dean in return.
“Thanks, Cas. I mean it. Thanks,” Dean murmured in the angel’s hair.
“You’re welcome.”
End