It’s been a few days since Cas had come back to us. He distanced himself from the rest of us, only coming out of his room every now and then to go get fresh air. Or so he would say. He tried talking to him; tried knocking at his door to grab any sort of attention from Cas, but there was always silence on the other end. He didn’t want to exchange words. Because to him, Dean was just a stranger. A faceless person in a sea of forgotten afterthought. When he came back, his memories did not. It was like he was dead again, the brief moment of relief when he returned washing away in a matter of minutes. Dean knocked on his door again, this time, to his surprise, the handle turned and the wood creaked open. The angel stood there and sighed, ushering Dean in with a swift moment of his hand. He sat on the desk chair while Cas sat on the bed, his fingers folded together in his lap.
“You wanted to talk, then talk. I’m all ears.” The mannerisms, everything. It wasn’t Cas. It wasn’t his Cas. It was slight things. The way he moved. The tone of his voice. He was gone.
“I know you don’t remember me and I’m not going to try to make you sit through hours of memories that we shared. I know that will mean nothing to you. I will tell you of this guy I, uh, used to know. When we first met, we absolutely hated each other. I even stabbed him before we exchanged names. Crazy right? He had this whole agenda that he was told to follow, and, without any questions, he would always obey. In another life, I would have respected that but what he had faith in was a load of shit. And he soon realized that too. We actually became friends after that. He rebelled against his own brothers and sisters in order to really find himself. He found out that blood isn’t always everything and to not follow orders but follow the path of who you want to be. He taught me a few things as well, like to never give up even when the odds aren’t always in your favor. Son of a bitch tried to do right all the damn time but he failed. Like me. Like the rest of humanity. He wasn’t perfect, but in my book, he was extraordinary.” Dean smiled. “And he was cute. Knew every word to every Zeppelin song. We used to drive for hours, belting out the words so loud that our voice would be hoarse the next day. His laugh could lit up a whole entire room even if it was the middle of the night and all the windows were sealed tight. He was kind and caring and he had this ability to make you feel alright in a matter of seconds, even if he was halfway across the world.” He paused, wiping away some tears welling up in his eyes. “I made him this tape a few weeks before he left for, uh, work. I just hope he liked it as much as I did.”
Dean glanced up at Cas who was busy pulling out something from his pocket. It was the tape. He gripped the tape in hands, turning it over onto his fingers, drinking in every inch.
“It’s me, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be sitting here talking to me if it wasn’t. I know you want me to remember and I know you want me to- to be with you. But I can’t. You speak so highly of me and I know, deep down, that that is a lie. I feel it. I don’t know why you won’t just let me go.”
“Because you’re castiel. Y-you-you’re my angel. And I’m not leaving here without you.”
A flashback of something pierces through Cas’s mind of purgatory. A stolen hug. An argument. Regret.
Dean reaches out his hand but Cas swats it away. “Go Dean. Now.”
“I need you Cas. Please. I know you’re in there.”
Another flashback. Fist against warm skin. Blood dripping. Blade firmly in hand. More regret. He clutches his head. Tears streaming his face.
All the memories come flooding back in a wave of colors. Running out of a strip club, Dean laughing behind him. A FBI batch displayed upside down while Dean fixed it for him. Hugs and glances exchanged but never more than that. The I love you. The pain when he didn’t say it back. The emotional drainage. Everything was back.
“Dean?” Cas whispered, looking at Dean in a way that he hadn’t in months.
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