SPN DCBB14: Worlds That Never Were (Chapter 4/5)

[the_diggler]

Worlds That Never Were ~ Chapter 4

Please see the fic masterpost for warnings and other information.





Castiel dreams of a night with Dean, one of many spent on the run from Raphael and Michael’s forces, but like no other. Sam isn’t with them on this night, having retreated to the bunker, needing a safe place to recover physically and emotionally from the fallout of Ruby’s betrayal, and their subsequent capture and escape. Castiel had gone with Dean in the opposite direction, to throw Michael and Lucifer off the trail, finding an abandoned house to hunker down in for a while. But exactly how they end up at a brothel is beyond Castiel’s remembering.

He has a vague recollection of a highly awkward conversation, during which he may have revealed his total and complete inexperience with intimate relations. But everything in between leaving the safety of that old rickety house, and finding himself sitting in a brothel amongst scantily clad women, passes in numb dread – so paralyzing that Castiel barely even tastes the entire jug of beer he consumes, its liquid courage wasted on him.

There is a woman, pretty and pleasing, and fittingly named Chastity, though Castiel can’t find the humor in that. Not when he’s near frozen with anxiety and nerves. He considers running, grabbing Dean and flying away… But then he remembers that Dean brought him here to help him, so that Castiel can experience something that Dean and so many others find enjoyable. And for the sake of their friendship, Castiel wants to try.

He lets Chastity sit him down on the edge of her bed, lets her climb into his lap and press up against him. He’s still not sure he understands the appeal, but he trusts Dean, and if Dean says it’s something worth experiencing, then Castiel will keep letting her. She presses closer, her breath hot and moist against his neck, her arms twining around his shoulders, but Castiel still doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He imagines Dean would know exactly what to do, how to touch and feel and trace every inch of bared skin, how to move together, press and pull and… then Chastity’s teeth close around Castiel’s earlobe, and his wings instantly explode, ripping into existence so suddenly, Chastity screams in fright. She scrambles off his lap, eyeing Castiel’s wings with horror as she runs from the room.

Her horror chills Castiel to the core, reminding him exactly why he never allows himself to be close to anyone in the first place. He tries to pull himself together, shrouding his wings again before anyone else sees, but it’s too late. Dean comes running at the sound of Chastity’s screams, and when he sees Castiel’s wings he stumbles in his tracks, jaw dropping at the sight.

“Well,” Dean grins, “I guess ‘wing-job’ wasn’t on the menu,” he chuckles.

Castiel releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, before Dean grabs onto him, and they make a hasty retreat.

“Is that why you’ve never been with anyone before? Because of your wings?” Dean asks when they return to the abandoned house they’ve been hiding in.

“Yes,” Castiel replies quietly. “It’s difficult to control them, and most humans do not react well to such an obvious mutation. You yourself saw Chastity’s reaction tonight,” he explains, his shrouded wings bristling against his back.

“But what about other mutants?” Dean presses.

“Most of the mutants I’ve known were my family,” Castiel replies. “And as for the rest, I suppose my wings were simply too… unappealing,” he says, feeling his wings flatten around himself. It’s true. His wings are ugly. So black that they suck in the very light around them, like a dark, empty void.

“That’s bullshit,” Dean snarls. “You’re wings are amazing, Cas, and don’t let nobody tell you anything different,” he says, indignant anger in his eyes. “I mean, I thought I was imagining things the first few times I saw them ‘cause they were just… just…” Dean shakes his head, at a loss for words. When he looks up to meet Castiel’s eyes again, his anger suddenly deflates with an huffed exhale. “Show them to me,” Dean asks urgently, stepping forward to grip his arms.

“What?” Castiel balks in surprise, trying to step back but not able to go anywhere in Dean’s tight grip.

“Please,” Dean says, nothing but earnest determination in his eyes.

Castiel finds his wings unfolding before he even makes the decision, flaring into existence from their plane of invisibility. Castiel can’t remember the last time he purposely unsheathed his wings in front of another person, and they tremble and twitch nervously under Dean’s gaze.

“They’re so black,” Dean breathes, his grip going slack around Castiel’s arms.  And though Dean’s voice is filled with awe, Castiel can’t help it, he cringes at the words. But Dean doesn’t stop there, telling Castiel in a reverent whisper that, “It’s like looking at the night sky. Like the entire Universe is in your wings. They’re beautiful, Cas.”

Castiel feels a warmth spread through him at that, though he doesn’t know whether it’s from Dean’s words or Dean’s body, standing so close to his own. Dean’s hands find their grip again, squeezing Castiel’s shoulders and drawing his gaze upward, to find Dean’s eyes not on his wings anymore, but on his face, eyes searching his own.

“You’re beau--” Dean begins to say, but Castiel lurches forward, covering Dean’s mouth with his own, and stealing the words from his very lips.

Did Chastity kiss him like this? Castiel can’t remember. But soon he doesn’t care. Nothing before this matters. No kiss before could ever compare to this. He wants to stay right here, in this moment, losing himself in the heady press of lips and tongues and warmth forever.

Castiel spares one last thought for Chastity to remember the way she guided him onto her bed and climbed into his lap, using the knowledge to push Dean back towards the old mattress on the floor, and settle on top of him. Then it’s all new from there, all theirs alone.

“Can I touch them?” Dean asks breathlessly, “Please?”

“Oh!” Castiel gasps at the thought. “Yes!”

And he was right. Dean does know exactly what to do with his hands. Even though Castiel has never let anyone do this to him before, Dean still finds all the right places to touch, in all the right ways.

“Do you like that?” Dean asks as he massages the arches of his shoulder feathers, or buries his fingers in the soft undersides of his secondary feathers – stroking and caressing until Castiel is so incoherent, he barely even notices Dean moving on until his hands find the next way to turn Castiel into a moaning mess.

They are naked before long, rolling and pressing together atop the rough army blankets they’d used to cover the old mattress, and Dean’s exploration of his wings traverses to his skin, discovering all the right places to touch him there as well – the peaked bud of his nipple, the hard cut of his hip, the soft inside of his thigh – with deft fingers and a clever mouth Dean unravels Castiel as if he’s always known how.

Castiel wishes he knew what to do to make Dean feel the same way. But his inexperienced hands fist in the blankets instead, his wings shuddering with indecision. He wants to curl them around Dean’s back as Dean lays on top of him, hold Dean close and shelter him from the cold drafts of the house. He wants to stroke Dean’s skin with his feathers, make Dean shiver the same way he does, with the slightest brush of Dean’s fingertips. He wants to arch his back and flare his wings to their full spread as Dean sucks his length into the wet warmth of his mouth. And when Dean touches him inside with slick fingers, finding the most responsive place in his body yet, Castiel’s wings beat against the mattress with the beginnings of flight.

“Do you like that?” Dean whispers again, though this time he seems hesitant. “Is this… okay?” he asks, fingers rubbing just softly inside.

“Yes!” Castiel gasps. The only answer that has fallen from his lips since he felt Dean’s mouth against them.

“Are you sure? We can do other things, Cas. We don’t have to do this now,” Dean murmurs, brows furrowed with concern even though his eyes are blown with need.

“Yes we do,” Castiel replies quietly, his hands winding around Dean’s shoulders and holding him tight. For all they know, Raphael could find them tomorrow morning, and they could be separated, or worse. Living on the run like they are, there’s no telling what the next day might bring, or if there will be a next day at all. Tonight could be their only chance for this, their last chance to be together, and Castiel doesn’t want to let it go.

He doesn’t have to say these things for Dean to understand. He can see in Dean’s eyes that Dean is just as aware of the fleeting nature of their lives. And what’s more, he can see just how badly Dean wants this as well.

“It’s just… I don’t want to hurt you, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “I’ve never done this with a man before,” he admits softly.

“You haven’t?” Castiel replies, incredulous. The way Dean’s handled him all night, touched him, it’s like Dean’s had a map to his body. That this is the first time Dean’s touched a man is the last thing Castiel expected to hear. But he can barely entertain the thought of Dean touching someone other than him either. Castiel takes comfort in the fact that tonight, they’re both virgins, in a way.

“I’ve never wanted to be with a man before. But I want you. I want this,” Dean murmurs. “Hell, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since before we left for the brothel,” he huffs.

Castiel smiles, sliding his hand up Dean’s neck to cup his cheek. “I want this too, Dean. I think I have for a while now,” he admits, the realization dawning on him. “I want everything. I trust you,” Castiel tells him.

And that’s how it’s always been with them. All in or nothing at all. No in between. No going slow. Everything for Dean.

With Dean buried inside him, Dean’s fingers buried in his wings, Castiel has never felt so close to another person before. They move as one, breath as one, feel as one, and he doesn’t think he will ever be able to separate himself again. Nor does he want to. Dean overwhelms his body with such sensation, and fills him so full of feeling, it’s not long before Castiel flies apart, losing himself in it completely.

When he finds himself again, it’s in the cradle of Dean’s arms, boneless and sated and more relaxed than he can remember being in his entire life. He understands now how such pleasures could easily become addicting.

“Did you like that?” Dean asks, chewing on his lip with a nervousness that’s wholly unnecessary.

“Yes,” Castiel replies without hesitation, smiling open and honest.

“What did you like best?” Dean quirks an eyebrow, a small smile forming on his lips in return.

“Everything,” Castiel grins. “But I think I like your kisses most of all.”

Dean grins back at him at that, wide and bright, before leaning in to kiss him again, and Castiel hums contentedly in his throat as he wraps his arms around Dean’s neck.

They trade kisses for what seems like hours, though it could be just minutes, their lips becoming lazy and slow with sleep. Dean nods off first, breath still warm on Castiel’s lips, still nuzzled together on their makeshift pillow. And as Castiel watches over Dean’s sleeping form, in the drafty dark of that abandoned house, he wonders how he has ever lived without the comforting warmth of Dean’s body against his own.

He thinks that’s when he realizes he’s in love with Dean Winchester. That he always has been. And the memory of it makes him ache.

Castiel dreams of a world where Dean lives long enough for Castiel to tell him.



The next time Dean finds himself strapped to the examination table, he is much less talkative. Castiel had appeared that morning, grumpier than usual, with dark bags under his eyes, and Dean recognized the signs that Castiel barely slept the night before. The sight left Dean torn between the desire to comfort Castiel, and the hope that maybe he was finally getting to the man. Castiel even threatened to gag Dean if he didn’t keep silent today. So Dean is voluntarily keeping his mouth shut, biding his time until a better idea comes along.

But without any other distractions, all Dean can do is watch Castiel, wondering at the differences between this world and his own. He realizes that if this Castiel doesn’t know where the bunker is, it means the Dean here never brought him there. Which means wherever their paths diverged between his world and the next, that part of their life together never happened.

And it was such a good part of their life. Sure, they were always in and out of the place, dealing with one crisis after another, but it was their home. And he just doesn’t know how to prove that to Castiel without giving away its location and destroying the Resistance movement here.

Until all of a sudden, he does.

“I can prove it!” he blurts out, abrupt in the silent room.

Castiel sighs heavily, looking away from his computer screen to arch an eyebrow at him. “Prove what?”

“Me! Us!” Dean exhales.

Castiel sighs again, waiting.

“My phone,” Dean explains. “If you can find out a way to charge it, there are pictures, videos…” And a great number of them were taken in various parts of the bunker – the library, the kitchen, even the war-room – all large spaces with no windows, clearly underground.

“Videos,” Castiel echoes, arching an eyebrow. Dean suddenly feels himself flushing, realizing the implications of what he’s just said.

“It’s not what you think,” he replies quickly. “But it’s enough.”

Castiel thinks about that for a second, before he appears to come to some decision, nodding. He picks up a nearby phone which seems to be some kind of intercom system, and dials an internal number.

“Charlie,” Castiel says into the phone, and Dean blinks in surprise. He wonders if it’s the same Charlie he knows from his world. “If you could please come down, I have something I need you to look at,” Castiel says.

It’s a long time before Castiel speaks again, and then it’s with a slightly irritated, “Thank you.” And it seems polite enough, but Dean knows Cas too well miss it. Judging by the extended silence on his end before-hand, he must’ve been subjected to quite an amount of rambling. Which means it’s definitely the same Charlie.

“So… You have a Charlie here too,” Dean grins, suddenly excited at the thought of seeing her. “Petite redhead? Technopathic abilities? Into the ladies?”

“Yes,” Castiel replies distractedly, rummaging through his desk drawer.

“But she thinks you’re pretty dreamy anyway, huh?” Dean ventures a guess.

Castiel immediately begins to turn red, and Dean knows he guessed right. He chuckles.

“Yeah, I knew her pretty well in my world too,” he says fondly. “She was kind of like the little sister I never knew I wanted.”

“I see,” Castiel replies quietly. He doesn’t add anything more than that, finally finding Dean’s phone and pulling it out of the drawer. Right on cue, Charlie arrives, and she’s just the same as in Dean’s world, Star Wars t-shirt and all. Though it’s mostly covered by one of those generic white lab coats, and she’s a lot more jittery than the Charlie he knows. Her eyes go wide when she sees him, but he’s not sure if that’s because she actually knew the other him here or if she only knows him by reputation.

“Oh, hey, Commander, is that the shifter that came in from the Camp? He’s pretty good. Looks just like Dean Winchester’s pictures.”

“Yes, well…” Castiel frowns.

“Is he one of Crowley’s?” Charlie continues. “I heard that some of Crowley’s men were sighted in the area. Do you think they might be here for him?” she asks worriedly.

Castiel stiffens. “No, I believe Crowley is tied up with the Lucifer loyalists in Jackson County at the moment.”

“Oh, right,” Charlie frowns. Dean narrows his eyes. His Cas was a terrible liar, and it seems this Castiel isn’t much better at it either. But Charlie doesn’t seem to pick up on anything. Either that or she just knows better than to question the almighty Commander.

“So, what can I help you with, boss?” she asks.

Castiel hands her Dean’s phone. “The technology is a little… different, but if you could find a way to charge it I would like to see what’s on it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Charlie replies, taking the phone from him and giving it a cursory once over. “Oh, I see what you mean about the technology being different, I’ve never seen a USR connection like this before. I mean, this is beyond next gen, it’s just completely off the board. But I think-- yeah it shouldn’t be a problem if I just--”

“Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel interrupts before she gets carried away any further.

“Uh, yeah, sure, boss,” Charlie blinks out of her daze, and Dean thinks he sees her actually swoon a little when she looks up at Castiel. He bites down a laugh.

“But Charlie,” Castiel adds sternly, “whatever this phone contains is for my eyes only. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander, understood,” Charlie replies, shrinking away to make a hasty retreat and leaving Dean alone with Castiel again.

She couldn’t have been in the room for more than a few moments, but she was a breath of fresh air, and Dean already misses her. He hopes to God she’s okay in his own world. He hopes she made it to the safety of the bunker in time.

But seeing her also begins to fill Dean with hope. She’s exactly the same as she was in Dean’s world. Bar a little fear and subjugation. Just as Chuck was exactly the same as he remembers. Benny as well. And a small-town sheriff in California once told him that one is an incident, two is a coincidence, and three is a pattern. So it’s not that far a stretch to think that, deep down, Castiel might be similar as well. Maybe the differences are only on the surface, merely the result of a few bad choices. But at his core, he could still be the same. Still be the same Cas that fell in love with him, and gave everything for him. A Cas that could love him again.



When Charlie returns the next day, Dean can tell straight away that she’s seen all his files, despite being ordered not to look. There’s just the slightest difference in the way she looks at him, a little more wonder in her confusion, and Dean knows she’s put two and two together, and come up with five. But it’s the blush on her face, and the way she keeps trying not to glance between him and Castiel, that really gives it away.

“So… uh… here you go then… Commander,” Charlie stammers awkwardly as she hands over the phone.

“I hope it wasn’t any trouble,” Castiel replies, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously, and a small meeping sound escapes her throat.

“Nope! No trouble at all!” she replies, laughing nervously. “Took longer to charge than it did to work it out,” she explains, and Dean snorts. He’s not surprised. She was the one who worked out how to channel mutant abilities to power the bunker after all. Now that Dean thinks of it, it makes sense that she’d be at this facility as well, if they’re researching power manipulation here.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel says. It’s an obvious dismissal, but she seems to be frozen on the spot, her smile straining on her face.

“I’m sorry, but… is this real life?” she finally breaks, incredulous. “I mean, there’s absolutely no sign of digital manipulation or tampering on those files, and how is that even possible? Unless they’re all shapeshifters? But then they’d have to be taking videos for years. And it’s one thing to know about multiverse theory, but seeing it in action is another thing entirely. I mean the way you two are in that world is just--“

“Charlie,” Castiel barks, interrupting her. “What videos?” he grits out pointedly.

“Huh?” she blinks, confused for a moment. “Oh, right!” she exclaims, finally understanding. “Of course, what videos? Not the videos I wasn’t supposed to look at, because you told me not to, not those. I have no idea what you’re talking about!” she giggles helplessly.

Castiel narrows his eyes so far he’s practically squinting at her.

“But uh, hypothetically, if this phone came from a parallel world, it would explain why the technology is different,” she rambles on. “But the differences are mostly superficial. At heart it’s all essentially made of the same stuff,” she adds, and she shoots Dean a kind of soft, small little smile after she says it, that tells him the words are meant for him as well.

The same at heart.

Yeah, he gets what she’s telling him. And it confirms everything he’s been hoping for. He returns her smile gratefully.

“Thank you, Charlie, that will be all,” Castiel grinds out.

“Sure thing, Commander” she says, finally backing towards the door. “Pleasure to help. Really. And if you ever need me for anything, anything at all,” she says, glancing at Dean, “you know where to find me. Even if you just need someone to talk to about… those things that I absolutely did not see--“

“Charlie.”

“Yep! Okay! Going now!”

Once the door closes behind her, Castiel returns to his desk, sitting down and turning his back to Dean before turning on the phone. Dean can still see over Castiel’s shoulder though, and he watches with bated breath as Castiel opens up the photo gallery.

It’s not just pictures he’s taken himself in there, it’s pictures that other people have taken and sent him as well. There’s a few Sam sent of Dean and Cas sitting on park benches, something they often did when they were on the road and needed to take a break to stretch their legs. There’s a few from a quiet lake they’d found one crisis-free weekend, sitting on the dock where Dean tried to teach Cas how to fish. One awkwardly posed picture of all of them in Bobby’s old living room that Bobby had set the timer for, the night before Ellen and Jo died… Years’ worth of saved pictures, telling their story so much more effectively than Dean could ever explain in words, and Castiel looks at them all, expression unreadable except for the uneven pattern of his breath.

The videos are even more damning, the body language between them and the tone of their voices when they speak to each other unmistakable. Especially at the bunker, where they move around each other with such ease and… domesticity, even Dean feels like he’s intruding on something personal and intimate. Even when the point of the video is something else entirely – like a recon video, or a recording of an interrogation – and they’re just interacting on the periphery. But there’s a few videos Dean took just for fun – Cas snoring softly in his sleep, Cas moaning happily around one of Dean’s home-made burgers, Cas tilting his head in confusion when a Casa Erotica video mysteriously starts playing on his laptop… But it’s that first video from the bunker that Dean’s watched the most.

It was the morning after Cas’ first night in the bunker. Cas had looked so beautiful lying in his bed – their bed – wings spread across the sheets, having left them unshrouded the whole night, that Dean couldn’t help but pull out his phone to take a video. As Dean climbed on the bed to get closer, though, the movement stirred Cas from his sleep, making him blink his eyes open in confusion.

“Dean? What are you doing?” Cas had asked groggily, though Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

“Just wanted to remember the moment,” he’d murmured in reply, and something softened in Cas’ eyes at that.

“Well then,” Cas had said, cupping Dean’s face in his hands and making Dean look up from the camera into his eyes. “Remember this: I love you, Dean Winchester. I always have, and I always will, no matter what.”

And even though Cas is looking at him instead of the camera, the look in his eyes is still clear, and the certainty in his voice is unmissable.

“Yeah?” Dean had replied, his voice shaky and breathless in contrast, and Cas had smiled at him in response, bright and open as he pulled Dean in for a kiss.

The phone gets forgotten then, but still manages to capture a shot of Dean’s bruised face as he leans in to kiss Cas, before getting lost in the sheets. And even though the sound is muffled then, the camera still picks up Dean returning the words in between kisses, before the clip ends.

Castiel stares silently at the screen after that, expression still entirely unreadable, though his breathing seems even more rapid than before.

“Cas?” Dean ventures softly, desperate for some kind of reaction.

“I… left my wings unsheathed?” Castiel says in small, stunned voice, staring absently at the now black screen. “All night?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies softly. “You did that a lot after that night,” he says. “I guess you felt safe there.”

Castiel’s breath hitches in his throat at that, but he doesn’t look away from the phone.

“Where did you get the bruises?” he asks, fingers now stroking the screen, though he seems unaware of what he’s doing.

“That was after Lucifer’s crypt,” Dean answers.

Castiel sucks in a sharp breath then, eyes whipping up towards Dean, wide and alarmed. “After?” he gasps, the word a harsh rasp in his throat.

“Yeah.” Dean frowns at the reaction.

Castiel stares wildly at him for a long moment, before he abruptly stands up, and leaves the room.



It’s dark in the cocoon of Cas’ feathers. So dark, Dean can barely see Cas’ face, but for the light of the bedside lamp, glowing around the edges of Cas’ wings. His entire body aches, bruised and broken, but he barely notices it, wrapped up in softness and safety and warmth.

He hadn’t even bothered showing Cas where the spare rooms were. As far as Dean’s concerned, his room is their room now. The bunker is Cas’ home now too.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, riding Dean slow and sweet and kissing his bruises in feather-light apology.

“Shhh,” Dean hushes him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Maybe if Dean had brought him to the bunker sooner, Cas would’ve been safe, protected. Dean should’ve known they’d try anything to get to him.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” Cas protests, curling his wings ever more protectively around them.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” And he’s not letting Cas go until Bobby gives him the all-clear. “We’re gonna work things out,” he promises.

“Dean, I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you,” Cas promises in return.

“I know, Cas,” Dean croons, “I know.”

“Dean, I…” Cas chokes off, shuddering in Dean’s arms.

“Cas,” Dean moans, overwhelmed by the look in Cas’ eyes.

Dean knows this night. And he knows now what Cas was trying to say in that moment. It was on the tip of his tongue too, in every touch, in every kiss. But it’s not until the next morning when Cas actually gets the words out, telling him for the first time while Dean captured it on video with his crappy little phone.

But for now, all Dean can do is hold Cas tight, hang on to every moment he can. Lose himself in the memory of it, and pray that it never ends.

“Dean!” Cas gasps, gripping Dean’s shoulders as he slides down. “Dean!” he cries out again, eyes fluttering shut as he throws his head back.

“Cas,” Dean groans, burying his face in Cas’ skin.

“Dean! Wake up!”

“Cas?” Dean squints his eyes open in the dark. For a long moment he doesn’t understand that he’s awake, until he realizes it’s not his Cas’ face he sees, hovering above him. “Wha…?

“Get up,” Castiel orders, letting go of his shoulders.

“Huh?” Dean asks in confusion, still groggy with sleep. “What’s going on?”

It’s been days since Castiel has come for him, since seeing that video. At least Dean thinks it’s been days. It could have been weeks. It’s felt like a small eternity, left wallowing in his solitary cell, with nothing but padded walls to look at, and the memory of Castiel’s face when he’d said, “After?”

After what? The crypt? Maybe something happened differently around that event in this world. Maybe the very thing that made their worlds diverge down such vastly different paths. But what? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, running Castiel’s reactions over and over in his head.

“Quiet,” Castiel hushes him, reaching forward to cuff his wrists, as per usual. Though there’s a distinct lack of armed escort this time. “Follow me,” he murmurs, leading Dean away from the cells. Dean doesn’t argue, playing the perfect prisoner for the night guards’ benefit as he follows Castiel through the halls. Castiel doesn’t take Dean to his usual examination room though. Instead he takes Dean down to the basement, which seems suspiciously lacking in guards despite the number of security doors they have to go through.

Finally they seem to reach their destination, stepping into what looks much like a hospital room. In the lowered light Dean can see a bed in the center, surrounded by various machines, silently monitoring the patient’s vitals. Castiel steps up to the side of the bed, waiting for Dean to join him, and when Dean looks down, what he sees punches the air right out of his lungs.

It’s his brother lying there, pale, unconscious, but alive. Dean grips the railing on the side of the bed, trying to remember how to breathe.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asks, unable to look away.

“There is a wall in his mind, cutting him off from consciousness. It was the only way to control his power,” Castiel explains. “I almost died getting him away from Lucifer. Wherever I flew, Sam destroyed everything, burning the earth and the very air around him. Sometimes I think I should’ve let him die in the first blast. But I just couldn’t let go. The rest of the world didn’t really matter to me then. Not after…” Castiel trails off.

Dean finally looks up, meeting Castiel’s gaze to find determination blazing in his eyes.

“I’m going to get him out of here, Dean,” Castiel promises. “I owe it to him. To both of you.”

Dean nods, swallowing thickly against the lump in his throat.

The silence feels heavier on the walk back to his cell, his mind weighed down with questions and the confusion and shock of discovering his brother alive. Again.

“Is this real?” Dean gasps, praying that this isn’t another one of Zachariah’s illusions.

“Yes,” Castiel replies sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“But that’s what you’d say anyway, even if you are an illusion,” Dean sighs.

He doesn’t really care anymore, though. He wants it to be real.

“Whatever. If this is an illusion at least let it be one of Gabriel’s instead of Zachariah’s,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “You always did say you preferred Gabriel’s illusions.”

“You-- what?” Dean breathes. “You mean, you believe me?”

“I think… I’ve been trying not to believe since the moment I saw you,” Castiel whispers.

“Cas,” Dean grabs onto Castiel’s wrists.

“Let me go,” Castiel says tightly, though he’s making no effort to pull away.

“Please,” Dean replies, leaning closer. “I need you,” he breathes, so close he can feel Castiel’s breath on his lips.

“No,” Castiel growls, yanking out of Dean’s grasp and turning away. “I’m not him,” Castiel says, running an agitated hand through his hair. “The way you look at me… You shouldn’t. You don’t know--”

“I do know you, Cas,” Dean hisses. “This world may be different from mine, but I’ve seen enough to know that I know you. And I know what we could be together. I could be so good for you, Cas.”

Castiel remains silent at that, and Dean tries to step closer, but Castiel’s back goes completely rigid at the movement.

“Cas,” Dean tries again, more gently. “I don’t know if you ever loved me in this world, but I know whatever part of you loved me in my world is in you too. If you just give me a chance, I know you could love me.”

Castiel deflates at that, heaving a deep sigh. “I could,” he replies softly. “I did,” he adds. “But I still killed you. And Sam destroyed the world.”

~ next