Fic: Cords (Sam/Dean/Castiel) - Part Two
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Part Two
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The thing they're hunting in Sunriver turns out to be a Black Dog that stalks the roadside and takes hitchhikers. It goes in the same familiar pattern. They do the research, question witnesses, scope the area. It's easy almost, after everything else. After the apocalypse. Dean hadn't realized how much he missed this. How much he enjoyed doing this until they're back in the saddle and having one extra man is just like icing on the cake. Because Castiel is even more of a demon encyclopedia than Sam is, just as much of a research geek, and it cuts the wait time for information gathering in half.
Two days later they're in the middle of a silent side road, the pavement cracked and pitted where the yellow line has faded to near nothing. There are no street lights, no headlights of oncoming cars, just Sam and Dean's flashlights, which are trained on the Black Dog they have circled, lights and guns aimed on the thing while Castiel advances with the iron stake.
Castiel darts forward like liquid grace, Dean and Sam both empty a clip of bullets into the Dog, and the iron stake sinks home, running the Black Dog through the chest. They both quickly reload their guns but the Dog doesn't move again. It's the smoothest kill they've had in a long while and Dean forgets the most important rule: the double tap. If it went down too easy, it's probably not down. Or it has a friend.
The second Black Dog melts out of the dark and closes its jaws over Sam's neck and shoulder a second before Castiel snaps out for Sam to look out. The Dog spins, throws Sam easily across the road and his head connects against the asphalt with a sickening crack.
“Sam!” Dean's emptying the fresh clip into the Dog. From the corner of his eye, he sees Castiel fall to the pavement like his strings have been cut.
The Dog turns its attention on Dean, muzzle curled into a snarl and Dean glances back. The iron stake is still embedded in the other Dog and Dean backs up a step. Two steps and the Black Dog facing him growls. Dean bolts, the Black Dog lunges.
It howls as three more bullets meet its flanks but Dean refuses to turn and look until the stake is in his hand and he's wrenching it free. Sam's on his feet, somehow facing the other Dog with his gun raised. Be confused later, act now. Dean throws himself at the Dog, one more shot goes off, and a minute later, the second Dog is laying in a heap with the stake protruding from its chest. Dean stares at it for a second, chest rising and falling sharply until his gaze darts to Sam.
“Sam, what the hell? You okay?”
Sam walks over, patting himself down with one hand and shrugging. “I feel fine.” His hand squeezes against his shoulder, trying to find where there should be giant gaping holes from the Black Dog's teeth. His shirt is torn.
Dean stoops to grab a dropped flashlight and shines it briefly over Sam's unmarked skin before turning back to Castiel. Castiel still isn't moving and both of them run the few strides to his side, dropping to their knees. Dean gets there first, sweeping the flashlight along Castiel's form but there's nothing obvious that is wrong with him.
“What happened?” Sam asks as he presses fingers against Castiel's throat, finding a strong pulse, before running his fingers through Castiel's hair. Standard search for head injuries.
Dean shakes his head. “I don't know. Black Dog wasn't even near him, he just collapsed.” On a hunch, he reaches out with one hand and tugs down the collar of Castiel's shirt, giving Sam a look at the sight of the raised welts marring Castiel's skin in the tearing shape of the Dog's teeth. “Guess you two have more of a connection than you thought. Come on, let's get him out of here.”
They hoist Castiel between them and carry him to the Impala, splaying him out across the backseat before they go for their supplies. The Black Dogs are just that now. Black dogs, unassuming and wrecked. A case of animal cruelty will probably be the town's headlines tomorrow as Dean and Sam drag them into the ditch at the side of the road and leave them.
They drive the short distance from Sunriver to Bend to spend the night. Castiel doesn't stir over the half-hour drive to get to a motel and they find themselves again carrying his unconscious form into a room and laying him on one of the beds.
“This is getting to be a habit,” Dean tries to joke but it falls flat.
They cut away the t-shirt and Dean keeps Castiel held upright, uninjured shoulder resting against Dean's chest while Sam skims his fingers over the welts. They're nothing really. No torn skin, no bruises. A little red but Dean wonders if they're even going to hurt once Castiel wakes up. They look like scars that are years old.
“Cas here owes us a few explanations when he wakes up,” Dean says and feels a breath sigh out across his neck.
“I am awake,” Castiel answers, voice quiet, and he doesn't raise his head from where it had fallen on Dean's shoulder, limp and heavy. He rests against Dean's chest and his arms stay useless at his sides and across his lap. His voice sounds so defeated that Dean's never felt so much like hugging the man before.
“You wanna tell us what's going on?” Dean murmurs, head tipping just enough to kind of see Castiel's face and he ends up speaking into his ear.
“That Black Dog should have ripped me apart,” Sam breaks in as well, his hand having come to a rest low on Castiel's back.
“It did for a moment.” Castiel sits up though he doesn't pull back far, seeming content enough to remain sandwiched between the two of them for the moment. His fingers have twined together over his lap and it's rare that Dean ever sees Castiel looking so openly nervous. “There's a reason angels don't or...can't share their grace too freely with humans the way I did with Sam. It forms a...a life bond. Sam won't die unless I do.”
“So you're saying what? You die and Sam drops like a ton of bricks?” Dean can't believe he's hearing this and Castiel answers simply, “Yes.”
“And Sam gets hurt?”
“Then I'm affected physically. And vice versa, I expect.”
“You expect?”
“I don't know, Dean. Something like this hasn't occurred in millennia.”
Dean feels it all sinking in slowly. If Castiel dies, Sam dies and Dean loses everything in one instant. That empty space in his chest, the pit in his stomach knots together until he isn't sure how he's still breathing. “And you thought now would be a good time to experiment?”
“Dean,” Sam tries to quietly stop him. Castiel's gaze is hard as he stares Dean down with so much conviction that Dean could almost believe it'll turn out fine anyways if it weren't for the guilt and the fact Castiel's eyes have always been so transparent.
“What would you have had me do? You were failing, Dean.” The accusation hits harder than a slap in the face and Dean tries to jerk to his feet but Castiel's hand wraps around his arm and holds him fast.
“Why didn't you say something then?” This is important. This is about keeping both Sam and Castiel safe, more so than ever. They never should have gone on this hunt.
Castiel sighs and looks down to where the line of Dean's thigh presses to his. “I'd hoped my grace would have been burnt away enough to avoid this.”
They're all quiet for a moment. Dean and Castiel stare down at nothing, Sam trades his worried look between them and rubs soft circles over Castiel's back. Dean had never looked at Castiel as someone really needing comfort before but Castiel's words drive home what he'd done. He'd wanted to destroy the thing that made him him so Sam could live and Dean could fix their mistakes. But all three of them had already fucked it up so royally.
“Jesus, Cas.” There aren't words that could say nearly enough how sorry Dean is or how scared or how much he's hit the end of his goddamned rope. His actions might, when he cups Castiel's face between his hands, getting Castiel to look up in confusion before Dean is kissing him. Soft open mouthed kisses to Castiel's unresponsive lips. Until Castiel is shuddering, like something coming loose inside of him, like Dean can feel the knot inside of him loosening as Castiel starts to kiss him back.
Soft and quick turns to long and hard and tongues and teeth and “Dean, oh, Dean,” with so much relief that Dean moans.
“I should, um...” Sam starts and his weight leaves the bed quick enough to shake Castiel's balance. It does nothing to shake his reflexes though. While Dean's mind reels over the fact that, crap, Sam is still in the room, he fucking threw himself at Sam's boyfriend or whatever, while he was in the room. And Sam's just gonna leave. Just gonna accept that and leave. Or he would if Castiel weren't catching his wrist and pulling him back down.
“Stay,” Castiel tells him and looks to Dean for confirmation.
Dean's so overwhelmed that he finds himself nodding along, eyes blown wide as he stares at Castiel, who's shirtless and determined, and Sam who's standing over Castiel's shoulder and looking just as confused as Dean feels. From all appearances, he's about the have a threesome with his best friend and his brother and all Dean can think about is how he'd wanted that last night. How something finally feels right for the first time since he shoved that blade through the devil's chest when Castiel leans forward and starts kissing him again. Kisses him with a slow kind of deliberation that blows Dean's mind and gets him hard.
The mattress dips again as Sam kneels behind Castiel and Dean would look to see what Sam is doing to make Castiel gasp against Dean's mouth like that if he weren't just a little distracted by the leg Castiel is wedging up between his own. Castiel pushes him back until Dean is flat on the bed, legs hooked over the edge and feet still firm on the floor. He finally manages to pry his eyes open to take in Castiel and just how fucking calm he looks right now despite the tint to his gaze, the 'just been fucked or about to be fucked' rumpledness of his hair, and the fact that Sam is busy mouthing along his neck. What happened to the guy in the brothel? Where's the panic and virginity? Sam looks up and fastens his gaze down on Dean and Dean remembers that his brother fucked all that out of Castiel already.
Dean bites his lip to try to stop it but the grin is already there and a second later, he's laughing. He catches Sam's eyes and Sam seems to get it, get how ridiculous this is and their lives are, and he grins. Castiel stares down at Dean with that half-smile like he wants to understand, wants to find it funny, but it's all going over his head again. “What's funny?” he asks and Dean just shakes his head.
“Nothing. This. Us.” He waves a hand to encompass them and his fingers come to land splayed over Castiel's naked waist, dipping under the waistband of his jeans.
Castiel smiles for a second longer before he's dismissing all of it to tug Dean's shirt away. To kiss Dean every place he can while Sam touches Castiel every place he can. Those big hands stray sometimes, skate along Dean's legs or arms or for a moment, their fingers entangle against Castiel's back. It takes way too long for clothes to be shoved down and off and away. Dean's not sure if he and Sam have any unspoken rule against touching but if they ever did, it goes ignored and Sam's the one lifting Dean's legs to hook them up over Castiel's shoulders. Sam is the one gripping and rocking Dean's ass up to give Castiel that perfect angle to push inside. Castiel's dick is slick and Dean is surprised to find that he missed that part entirely, where Sam got the lube and slicked Castiel and calmly took care of them all.
Castiel holds himself still, his fingers dig in along Dean's hips and Dean just wants him to get on with it. Start fucking already because Dean's damn teeth are on edge with how good this feels. Castiel pants against his cheek, eyes skewed shut and Dean turns his head, bumps his nose against rough stubble, whispers, “Come on, Cas.”
Sam's hands slide down over Castiel's, slip and push against Dean's skin, and Dean moans when he realizes what Castiel is waiting for. He opens his eyes to take in Sam over Castiel's shoulder again, cranes his head to the side just a little, to see Sam's cock, curved and slick and already pushing inside Castiel in a way that makes Castiel gasp and his hips jerk forward.
Sam is the one who starts moving, starts thrusting into Castiel and Dean by proxy. Christ, he's being fucked by his brother and his best friend, their weights pushing him down until Dean's not sure he can keep breathing. When Sam's fingers wrap around his cock, Dean is done. Castiel's mouth closes over his again, sucks all the remaining breath from him until Dean can't even moan to the feel of Castiel's cock and Sam's fingers until he's coming silently for the first time in his life. It doesn't take long for the other two to follow and though Castiel manages to shift enough to let Dean's legs down, they don't move off him. It's another first when Dean doesn't complain about their weight on him or the fact his legs are shooting pins and needles along his nerves.
Dean lifts his hand and threads his fingers through Castiel's hair, then does the same to Sam with his other, and holds them both so tightly to him, he's sure he's hurting them but they don't complain.
**
The respite lasts as long as the night, where they all sleep and at some point Sam drifts over to the other bed. Even with just the two of them on the double bed Castiel is nearly falling off the edge again. In the morning light, Dean can see the scars from the Black Dog's teeth that mark the back of Castiel's shoulder and neck standing out starkly on his pale skin.
Dean shifts across, pressing the pads of his fingers against one mark and traces along to the next in a feather light touch. It's enough to have Castiel shivering and stirring. “Dean?” Castiel draws his arm back from where he'd draped it over the edge of the bed and turns until he's facing Dean. His hair is even more mussed, eyes half-lidded still with sleep.
“This is really happening?”
Castiel pauses, glancing down the length of their naked bodies, and looks back up with an eyebrow lifted.
It makes Dean smile. “I don't mean that. You and Sam, this whole...we are one bullshit?”
“Yes.”
“So how do we fix it?”
Castiel frowns as Dean's words go over his head. “Fix it? We can't fix it, there's nothing to fix.” It's like Castiel telling him they couldn't stop a prophesy, only this time Dean can't walk away.
“You could have been the one getting torn apart out there.”
A flash of guilt crosses Castiel's face. “But I didn't.” As if that makes it better. But the 'what if' is too big. What if that Black Dog had sunk its teeth into Castiel instead? What if Sam hadn't woken up and Dean hadn't gotten to the stake in time? If Castiel dies, Sam dies. And Dean loses everything.
“But you could have.” He's almost yelling, propped up on one elbow like he could intimidate Castiel. Castiel is staring up at Dean with such wide eyes that Dean knows he could.
“Dean, what's going on?” Sam's voice floats across the room with tired concern but Dean doesn't glance to him. He's too busy yelling at Castiel.
“You've done some stupid shit, Cas, but this? Never again, do you hear me?” Castiel nods. “We go on a hunt again, you're staying with Bobby.” And Dean will gladly lock him up in the panic room if it means keeping Sam safe, keeping them both safe.
He pulls to his feet, ignoring the way Castiel sits up to follow and he can feel both Sam and Castiel's eyes tracking him across the room as he heads into the bathroom. He's not going to stay and argue about it because it isn't up for discussion. They somehow stopped the world ending and Dean's not about to let anything happen to the few good things that came out the other side with him.
Neither of them bother him and Dean takes his time, lets hot water from the shower stream over him, pound against his shoulders and head. His thoughts blank out and for about ten minutes, he gets to bask. He shouldn't be surprised that Sam's the one inching the door open or that Sam's the one slipping in behind the shower curtain to join him. In the shower. Naked, wet... “Sam!” Dean yelps when he spins and finds Sam standing there, taking up all the space, his shaggy hair catching droplets of water from the errant spray. “Dude.”
Sam crooks a smirk at him. “Really, Dean?” He looks down at both of them, glances to the side and Dean knows he's gesturing to the beds on the other side of that wall. Then he reaches out and wraps those long fingers of his around Dean's cock again and Dean's knees almost give out under him.
“Oh.”
Sam laughs, squeezing once before letting go. “Don't you think you were a little harsh on him?”
“Oh, fuck!” Dean laughs and slaps water from the spray of the shower into Sam's face. “You're a goddamned cock tease.”
Sam grins again, darts forward to grab hold of Dean's wrists and he's got the advantage in this shower, taking up every bit of space there is to crowd Dean back against the tiles and pin him there. Sam hovers close and for a moment, they breathe the same air and Dean's thoughts derail.
“I mean it,” Sam says, stern faced with not an ounce of the amusement from just a second ago. He just looks worried and Dean is getting really sick of people looking at him like that.
“So did I. He's not going out again. End of discussion, Sammy.”
They stare each other down but Sam is the one to look away first. “Will you tell him why, at least?” Sam's got his petulant tone going.
“Alright, Oprah. But you're gonna have to let me go first.” He tugs at his wrists, Sam's fingers still locked around them and Sam lets go. Dean leaves Sam behind in the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he heads back out to the room.
Castiel is still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded between his knees and he zeroes in on Dean. He looks good. Really good and Dean enjoys the freedom to think this without the guilt. Without some fear of death from above. Because even Castiel has given up on that now and as Dean steps across the room, the amulet thumps hard against his chest.
Dean drops down to his knees in front of Castiel, rests his hands over Castiel's knees. “Hey, buddy.”
Castiel watches him, takes in the damp skin and wet hair, the towel. He narrows his eyes. “Modesty, Dean.”
That surprises a laugh out of Dean. It seems his angel is trying to pick up a sense of humor after all. “I think we're a bit beyond that.” He squeezes his fingers against Castiel's legs and gives into the temptation to lean up and press a kiss against Castiel's parted lips. He puts as much apology as he can into the move and Castiel smiles as he draws back.
“I don't want to lose you.” Dean's never been good at this, these heart to hearts, but he forces himself to say it, half-afraid of making himself look like an idiot and downright terrified that saying it out loud will jinx them all. That saying he doesn't want to lose Castiel is going to make the man disappear under his fingers. Castiel has already died once, Dean can't take it again. Can't take the same with Sam either. “And I don't wanna lose Sam, so you just have to do this for me, okay?”
It's obvious that Castiel doesn't like the idea of being left behind but he concedes, with the slightest nod of his head and a soft “Okay, Dean.”
It isn't fair. Locking Castiel away like some valuable prized possession but he holds the lives of two people with him so maybe that's exactly what he is. Dean can't find another way out of this. Turns out that Castiel is as good as Sam and Dean ever were at getting them into the stupidest situations. Bobby was going to be thrilled to hear this one.
**
They make the trip back to Bobby's quickly. All any of them want is to get back home. Dean will feel a lot safer once they are, once Castiel is out of trouble and Sam by proxy. What if there's a demon attack or a car accident or a shooting?
“Dude!” Sam snaps at him at one point. “You're freaking out so loud I can hear it. Chill, nothing is going to happen.”
And Dean tries to relax his grip on the steering wheel, tries to stop his gaze darting around for every point of danger or to stop sitting and staring at Castiel, waiting for the man to vanish into nothing and Sam to fall still at his side when it happens. This is just while Dean is awake. He still sleeps most of the way in the back seat, still collapses into a bed when they stop again at the half-way point.
Bobby greets them all when they get back. His gruffness might not change much but Dean can read Bobby and he sees the relief in Bobby's eyes that's always there when he realizes they've made it back unscathed from another hunt or fight or apocalypse. Sometimes Dean thinks they must be the luckiest sons of bitches in the world. Then he looks at them all: Bobby in his wheelchair, Sam still wracked with guilt, Castiel a fallen angel. Dean the clinically fucking depressed. Then he has to sit down with Bobby and explain to him what they've done now, why Castiel can't come on hunts, why Sam is suddenly invincible.
Bobby takes it as expected. Calls them all idiots, shakes his head and then just saddles up and deals.
Two days later, Dean gets sick.
When he's out working on - sleeping in - one of Bobby's cars. The Camaro again, something Dean should have had done a week ago but he spends more of his time with it sleeping than working and while he can feel their worried gazes on him, they mostly leave him to himself. But they do the whole supportive thing. Sam and Castiel take turns wandering out a couple times a day to check on him. Dean always waves them off, stating he's fine. When he's awake. Dean has no idea how many times they check on him just to find him asleep and leave him undisturbed.
This time, though, he wakes up to find Castiel shaking his shoulder, staring at him with wide eyes that immediately jerk Dean into a panic. Something's wrong, something happened to Sam or they got some news and the devil isn't really dead after all. Dean jerks himself upright, eyes wild as he glances around but the world blurs like he's strapped into a centrifuge. His stomach rebels in the same way and right before Dean starts heaving, Castiel drags him out of the car and into the dirt. Dean has a brief moment of being proud that Castiel has his priorities straight and knows not to mess up the interior of a good car.
That doesn't last long when he's nearly pitching forward to the ground, right into the mess he just made, but Castiel's hands are under his arms and holding him up, dragging him back until Dean is collapsed against his chest, breathing heavy and startled.
“Dean.” Castiel definitely sounds panicked and Dean's head swims.
“What's wrong?” he hears himself ask as Castiel's hand presses cool against his forehead. Dean sighs as he lets his head fall back with a thump against Castiel's shoulder.
“I think you're sick,” Castiel answers, confused and unsure and Dean laughs.
“I don't get sick. Haven't been sick in...dunno. I don't do sick.”
“You do now.”
And isn't that a fucking great reward for saving the world?
Castiel sticks him up in the guest room, easily giving up his bed, and Dean doesn't exactly remember walking from the yard to the house but he must have. He also doesn't remember Castiel stripping him down to his boxers and bundling him under the covers but he knows he's hot so he kicks them all back off, much to Castiel's chagrin as he stands at the food of the bed and stares at Dean.
“It's hot, Cas.” Maybe Dean is sick. Really sick. High fever sick and Castiel looks like he doesn't have a clue what to do about it.
“I'll get Sam.” Or maybe he does. He's out the door before Dean can do more than nod, head reeling.
He thinks he passes out. He thinks he sees Lucifer laughing at him from the corner of the room. When he looks again, there are ice packs on his chest and wrists, and he's shivering so hard his teeth click together.
“We should take him to a hospital.” That's Sam and Dean looks up to find Sam and Castiel standing over him. Sam looks down at the same moment and smiles. “Dean. How're you feeling?”
“Cold.” Dean manages to chatter and Castiel takes the ice packs away and throws a blanket over him instead.
Dean sleeps again and Sam and Castiel migrate down to the foot of the bed. He opens his eyes to watch them but neither seem to notice he's awake again.
“I'm not convinced this is natural.”
Dean can see Lucifer still standing in the corner of the room.
“You think a spirit or something is doing this? Like maybe they dosed him with something?”
Dean stares at Sam and Castiel but from the corner of his vision, there's something thin and wispy drawing across the air towards Lucifer like mist. It vanishes when he tries to look directly at it.
“Or worse. I sensed a presence around Dean but I...I kept losing it. I kept...” Castiel fumbles his words and as Dean stares, he blinks hard and shakes his head. Lucifer isn't looking at Dean anymore, he's staring at Castiel and, for a moment, Castiel stares right back at him. He sways and Sam reaches out to steady him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Cas?”
“I kept forgetting.” He looks to the side, catches Dean's eyes.
“It's Lucifer,” Dean whispers and the line of mist between him and the devil solidifies into a cord before Dean feels himself being jerked roughly unconscious.
**
Dean knows this scene. The lake and the white capped mountains. It's cold, the air carries in the scent of frost and the edges of the lake are beginning to freeze over. There's something wrong about it though. There's no wind, no insects, no birds. It's just...still. The world holding its breath and Dean realizes that he's holding his as well and lets it out in a rush.
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean spins where he's standing on the edge of the dock and if this weren't a dream, he probably would have stumbled off it into the water. Castiel looks at him steadily, stoic and unshaven and his old trench coat hangs loose around his legs.
“Is this...part of the dream or are you really here?” He hates that he can't tell anymore. Can't tell if people are actually walking around in his head or if maybe he's about to have a legitimate sex dream about an angeled-up Castiel. “'Cause I thought you couldn't do the whole dream walking thing anymore.” Which means this must be a sex dream and Dean starts to prowl forward but something is off and Castiel holds up a hand with a slight smile.
“Dream root. Bobby gave me some.” Dean immediately looks around, fully expecting to see Sam. “I'm alone.”
Dean deflates a little but he nods and moves to Castiel until they're an arm's length apart and this close, he can see the worry that clouds Castiel's eyes. “Something's wrong.”
“You've been asleep for two days. You won't wake up so I came looking.”
Dean squints his eyes, tries to absorb that bit of information. Two days asleep but Dean hears the unspoken word 'coma'. It should hold more weight than it does. Sam's probably freaking out out there. Dean's probably dying. But this is a dream, not a nightmare. He grins at Castiel and presses his hand against Castiel's chest. “Well you found me, what are you gonna do with me?”
Castiel just narrows his eyes, suspicion shining out and Dean sighs. “Save you,” he answers and looks around the dreamscape. “But this is not the you that I'm looking for.” He turns to walk away, vanishing when he hits the end of the dock, where the wood meets dirt and Dean calls after him, “You don't know what you're missing!”
He huffs a sigh and goes back to stare out over the water. He looks down into it, glassy surface undisturbed by wind or ripples and blinks at himself staring back. There's something in this other him's eyes, hidden thoughts and an edge Dean thinks shouldn't be there. There's a flicker of red in his pupils. Hellfire. This is a him that's been to Hell and back and Dean tips forward into the water.
He ends up flat on his back on the deck and Castiel stands over him, peering down.
“But we just left this scene,” Castiel huffs, sounding annoyed. His 'stupid humans' sigh.
Dean groans as he sits up, draws his knees up so he can rest his forearms on them. “Yeah well, I like this place.”
After a moment's contemplation, Castiel joins him in sitting on the old boards, looking for a moment like he doesn't know how he should sit and it makes Dean's chest ache to wonder which of them is representing him like this. Like he used to be.
“It's your happy place,” Castiel says and Dean's eyes snap wide.
“What?”
“Bobby said-”
Dean holds up his hand. “I don't wanna know.” Silence reigns, the scene holding itself still around them. “Sometimes dad would drop us off with this other hunter - Caleb - when we were kids. He had this lake. Shit, the first time Sammy caught a fish, he pitched a fit because he didn't want to touch it.” Dean smiles to himself, gazing off into nothing.
“Do you remember what put you here, Dean?”
“I was sick, right?” The dreamscape flickers with static when he realizes that he's not sure.
“There was something in the room with us. Do you remember what it was?”
Dean tries. He remembers...something. From the corner of his eye, he thinks he can see a golden cord that stretches across the water and disappears into the middle of the lake. It vanishes when he turns to look at it.
“What is that?” Castiel's tone is sharp and he's on his feet, though Dean didn't see or hear him move.
Dean doesn't try to look at it directly again. “I've seen it before.”
Castiel is silent for a moment, staring out over the lake and Dean can see the thoughts spinning behind his eyes, before horror lights in them.
The dreamscape around them is beginning to slip. From serene lake to stark white hospital room. From dead silence to frantic beeping of a heart monitor. A tremor works through the dock and ripples the still waters.
The sword forms in Castiel's hands from nothing and Dean scrabbles to his feet as Castiel bolts past him. One, two strides and he's launching himself off the dock. Dean expects Castiel to disappear under the water's surface but he doesn't, he runs along the top of it, like freaking Jesus, and he cuts the sword down to sever through the cord.
Dean screams and the lake crumbles as he wakes up thrashing. Sam's big hands are holding down his shoulders. Bobby has his ankles. He snaps his eyes open, gasping in breaths.
“Where's Cas?” He doesn't relax, can't stop struggling because he wants to find Castiel. Needs to find Castiel.
“Dean! Dean, relax. He's in the Impala. Hey! If he weren't fine, I wouldn't be either, so relax.”
That gets Dean to stop, gets him to freeze in Sam's grip and stare at Sam to make sure that he really is fine. His loud wakening has attracted the hospital staff but Dean ignores the way the nurse comes in and checks the equipment. The tension that started to bleed away comes back sharp and painful when he remembers Lucifer. Remembers Lucifer being in the room and he searches every corner, tries to see anything from the corner of his eyes but there's nothing. No Lucifer. No cord of mist and gold.
His breathing is finally starting to even out when Castiel all but bursts into the room, eyes searching out Dean's immediately and he's across to the bed, the nurse half-stumbling out of his way. His hands cup Dean's face, his eyes searching but for what Dean has no idea. He finds it though because he's gusting out a sigh of relief and then pulling Dean into a hug so fierce, it cuts off Dean's breath.
Bobby clears his throat and Castiel pulls back, only looking a little chagrined. He straightens up and looks between them all. “We need to talk.”
**
Dean and Castiel refuse to say anything until they're back at Bobby's, although Dean's not all that sure what there is to say. He knows one thing. Lucifer is still alive. A scythe to the chest that should have had enough mojo to kill any angel, couldn't kill Lucifer. Dean doesn't know why. Doesn't know how Lucifer is still alive or what's going on or where he is. He just knows that Lucifer is alive and that he's failed again. Two strikes down.
Bobby hands him a beer once they're back in his kitchen and Dean accepts it gratefully. Fucking wishes he were back asleep or back in Sunriver with Castiel and Sam wrapped around him. Coward, he tells himself. This is his mess. His and Sam's and, yeah, Castiel's too. They have to clean it up but Dean's not sure how much more he can take. He remembers the future, Lucifer saying that no matter what he does, that's where they're gonna end up. Right. Here. Lucifer wins so...he wins.
Dean can't bring himself to say it so Castiel does instead, while Bobby and Sam wait in patience. “Lucifer is still alive.”
It sinks in for barely a second, before Sam is laughing, a sharp startled noise. “Dean stabbed him in the chest. He turned into ash.”
A blackening husk of nothing. Dean knows but he shakes his head. “I saw him, Sam.”
Sam stares at him but he rounds on Castiel and the way he gets up into the angel's face makes Dean want to walk over and slap them both. They don't need this and Dean is so sick of his family fighting. “You said this would work.” Sam almost spits the words in the fear that works through him.
Castiel doesn't back down, he pushes back, not afraid of Sam, no concern for personal space. “I said it might work and that it was incredibly dangerous to risk getting so close.”
“You two wanna stow it?” Bobby is the voice of reason when Dean can't find it in himself to interrupt, to get angry. It's him that they both look to, though, and it's for him that they both look guilty.
Castiel clears his throat and carries on his explanation. “When I entered Dean's mind, I found a psychic cord. We all have them, they...denote a bond. The thicker the cord, the stronger it is. They usually signify trust and love.” Dean coughs and Castiel tosses him somewhat of a scathing look. “But when someone knows how to manipulate them...”
“They can be used against them. Like say drawing strength away from the other person,” Sam says in his 'eureka' tone.
Castiel nods. “It would explain why Dean's been sleeping so much. Dean almost killed Lucifer and that creates a bond as well, one that should evaporate when the other being dies. But Lucifer didn't. He used it to his advantage and I think he's been drawing on the strength of Dean's soul to allow him to live.”
“That's why I've been sleeping so much?” Dean questions with his eyebrows raised and Castiel gives a single nod. Dean presses his lips together in a tight smile. “Great so...what do we do now?”
They all look to Castiel and he looks uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “I cut the cord and it can't be reforged without another event taking place. With nothing to draw on... Lucifer's essence should fade away into nothing.”
“'Should'.” Sam echoes all of their doubts.
“There's nothing else we can do about it now,” Castiel says. “I cut our only link to him. We'll just...”
Dean breaks in. He doesn't care, he just wants to finally move on. Even if that's only for a little while. “We'll just take it one day at a time.”
**
Dean is actually working on the Camaro, bent over the engine when Castiel comes out to find him. It's been a few days since Castiel cut the cord to what remained of Lucifer and Dean's taking advantage of the new vigor that runs through him. He's even gone jogging a couple times, feet light on the ground instead of iron blocks.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets. He has one of Dean's jackets on. It's been getting colder out as autumn rolls on. Soon the snow will start coming down but for now, the hard work has Dean hot even in a t-shirt. Dean thinks they should go shopping and get Castiel some of his own clothes. He's wearing Sam's jeans and they're rolled up to avoid dragging on the ground.
Dean straightens up and leans against the Impala. Castiel joins him and their arms brush. They stare back at Bobby's house for a moment in silence, close enough that they can see into the kitchen. Sam is sitting at the table with Bobby. There's been no talk of any more hunts.
“You cut the cord between Lucifer and me,” Dean starts without looking away from Sam. This has been circling his head for the last few days but he has no clue if he should be bringing it up.
Castiel senses the hesitation in his words and nods cautiously.
“And that was a grace thing, right? Like with you and Sam?”
Castiel snorts. “Hardly. But...similar, I suppose.”
“So could the one between you and Sam be cut?” The silence draws out so long and the tense set to Castiel's body nearly makes Dean take the words back. Dean shrugs it off and turns back to the Camaro's engine. “Forget it, I didn't-”
“It could, perhaps. But I'm not entirely sure I want to find out. Has it lead to anything so terrible?”
Dean thinks about the three of them and shakes his head.
“What I think I would like, is to just be human for a while instead of an angel. Or a hunter.”
“Oh.” Dean pauses and straightens up again. “Starting with a shopping trip?”
Castiel looks down at his second hand clothes. “Yes. Like that.”
Sam comes out to see what they're doing, cups of hot coffee for him and Castiel in hand. Castiel takes his gratefully and Sam asks, “Wanna see a movie tonight?”
Dean's just glad he didn't have to be the one to suggest it but there, spoken out loud, is what he wants. He looks between his angel and his brother and imagines he can see the cords between them. Here it is, a chance to be human. Even if maybe they're doing it a little bit different.
**
Masterpost // Part One