The Emporium 09: One Last Time
09: One Last Time
There was no answer to the doorbell. Dean knocked to no response. He searched for a spare key but there didn't seem to be one. So, resorting to brute force, he kicked the door down. He'd just have to pay for it after making sure Castiel wasn't doing anything stupid. The ground floor was empty. No one answered his shouts. Dean moved on up the stairs, dreading opening every closed door. He saved the bedroom for the last, praying feverently that Castiel was just deep asleep. Holding his breath, he inched the door open and was bewildered to find the room empty. Dean closed his eyes, trying to think of where Castiel could be. He didn't have a car nor a bicycle so he couldn't have gone far. Could he? He glanced towards Heaven for inspiration. For once in his life, it struck. The flap in the ceiling to the attic was slightly out of place. Stepping gingerly onto the bed, Dean moved the cover and pulled himself through the hole.
Sitting in the window with his back to the room was Castiel. Even from where Dean stood he looked unwell. His shoulders hunched, he looked frail and thin. He'd lost weight, his hair was unwashed as he stared out into the setting sun. What set Dean on edge though was the knife glinting viciously in the setting sun.
“Cas?”, he asked. The other man turned. His cheeks were sallow, his eyes large and sad and it hit Dean with a sharp twinge. Days worth of stubble adorned his cheeks. Dean fought the urge to rush to his side and cradle him from the world.
“Dean.”, even his voice sounded broken beyond help.
“What are you doing?”, Dean asked, slowly approaching the other man like he was approaching an easily startled animal.
“Nothing.”, came the reply. His voice was rough and scratchy from days of disuse.
“Really?”
“I was hoping to watch a final sun set.”, the broken man said, a tear slowly rolling down his rough cheek. Dean reached him and slid the knife away from the window and the man.
“That's a pretty steep drop.”, he said, refusing to think of the word 'final' in that sentence.
“It is far enough that if I fall, I won't survive. Especially if I fall through blood loss.”, the bitter explanation drew an audible swallow from Dean, and another pang in his chest. He crouched down to look Castiel in the eye, brushing out stray strands of lifeless hair that fell limp over his forehead. Even his hair, normally so gravity defying seemed to reflect his mood, drooping and devoid of all fight.
“None of that now. Come on, let's get you downstairs to eat something.”. When Castiel didn't move, Dean reached for him. Scooping him up in his arms, he lowered him down through the hatch onto the bed. He cringed inwardly at how light the blue eyed man felt. Easing himself down, he finally managed to get a good look at Castiel. He looked drawn and haunted.
“Why won't you let me fall?”, came the unexpected question. Dean just shrugged, opting to lead the way into the kitchen and trusting Castiel to follow. Sure enough Castiel slumped on a chair by the table, slim wrists placed on top.
“I think we need to talk.”, Dean said. A slow nod was all he got in the way on an answer. “But first, you need to eat. You look ready to fall off your chair. When was the last time you ate? Or slept for that matter?”
“A couple of days ago. I don't know. It just didn't seem to be worth the effort", Castiel said and stifled a huge yawn. Dean made jam on toast for them. After eating, he ushered Castiel towards the couch. He had to support the other man as he stumbled into his own living room. On impulse, he sat next to him and very soon he had Castiel laying across his lap, twitching in his sleep. Hours later Dean woke to a blanket being draped over him. Castiel, while still gaunt looked a little better. He'd obviously been to take a shower and shaved.
“Hey.” Dean said sleepily, reality not yet catching up with him. Then it hit like a freight train. The argument, the silence, Zacharia at the shop, the knife. Shit the shop! Castiel shyly tried to smile at him. It didn't quite reach his eyes, nor go as wide as normal but it was a start.
“Go back to sleep.” he suggested. Dean stubbornly shook his head as much to refuse as to clear the sleep induced haze from his mind.
“We need to talk.”
“I doubt two in the morning is a good time for this Dean.”, Castiel reasoned.
“Now is as good as ever.”, Dean replied. Castiel looked conflicted. As much as he wanted to clear things up, he wasn't sure if things shouldn't wait until the morning. Making up his mind, he gestured towards the dining table.
“I'll be back with coffee in a minute. I can't do it without that.”
True to his word, he sat down with two steaming mugs. Pushing one towards Dean he spoke.
“Shes's my ex-wife.”
Dean blinked a few times before managing to process that information.
“Oh.”
“I had to marry to be able to leave my family behind. There was no other way out. I always meant to divorce her as soon as I could. I just didn't expect her to keep the child from our neighbour.”, Cas continued. Dean didn't interrupt him. “Things got out of hand, I couldn't leave knowing that I'd left a child without a father. Not until they were old enough to understand. I filed for divorce a week after Claire turned 13. Amelia didn't want to though. She'd grown too comfortable in that life and didn't want to give it up. The proceedings dragged out and I could only move away when things were finalised. That was when I met you. It was only my second day in town. You were the first person I told I was gay. Well, other than one of my brothers. He just ran away. He never did fit into the family, weird sense of humour and all. He's one of the few that still talk to me.” A small wistful smile crept across Castiel's face.
“When was the last time you saw him?”, Dean asked.
“Not long after I moved. Gabriel wanted to give me a gift before he went on another one of his trips to the East.”
“Gabriel?”, realisation dawned on Dean, “Short, brown hair, hazel eyes?”
Castiel frowned as he nodded, “You know him?”
“Dude. That was for you?”, Dean grinned.
“What?”
“The biggest, scariest dildo in the shop!”, Dean was almost laughing as Castiel blushed.
“As I said, he has a weird sense of humour. If you can call it humour at all.”
“Oh man, I'd have loved to see your face when you opened that particular gift.”
“I was not impressed. Nor amused.”, Castiel shot him down primly. Dean tried to school his features into a more serious and appropriate expression.
“I'm sorry.”, he said eventually. He cut Cas off before he interrupted and gave Dean the chance to chicken out. “I'm sorry for not listening to you. I was hasty in drawing conclusions and harsh in judging you. I should have known better than to assume you were some heartless idiot.”
“It wasn't your fault. I was a little hot headed while interacting with Amelia.”, Cas said.
“Still, I feel bad. What I wanted to ask was, would you...do you think you'd be able to give me a second chance? Give us a second chance?”
“I'd love to.”, Castiel smiled, this time, for real, and leaned over the table to kiss Dean into silence. After the kiss ended, Dean sheepishly looked at his new-old boyfriend.
“Are you safe to be on your own?”, Dean asked. Castiel's face fell as he nodded.
“Of course. You are free to leave when you wish.”
“I meant, can we sleep? I can take the couch if you want.”, Dean blinked sleepily.
“Oh. You can use the bed if you want. Unless you aren't ready to do that again yet.”
Dean just smiled as he led them back up the stairs to sleep.
10: From Then On
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