#moritican!cas

He dropped his hand from his face and his eyes flickered, meeting Castiel’s. A small smile tugged at Dean’s mouth and he whispered, “Gotta call you back.” He hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Gave us quite the scare back there.”

“What happened?” Castiel asked, his voice hoarse, raw, and quiet.

Dean’s smile faded from his face, and he walked to Cas sitting on the edge of the bed he took Cas’ hand in his and smiled weakly. “You had a seizure, man.”

“What?”

“It's a side effect of withdrawal. You must’ve got something when you went into work… I don’t think I wanted to believe it, but you were fucked up, Cas. When you left you were fucked up, and I wanted to believe it was something else. It was the circumstances, you hadn’t eaten enough… whatever. You went into the morgue to look for evidence and you were doing drugs.” Dean’s eyes flickered away, hurt.

Castiel’s chest cracked open. “It’s not like that,” he choked out.

“I want to believe you, buddy. I really do.”

“Think I’m fallin’ for you, Cas.”

Castiel touched his head, wincing as the missing time bounced around inside of his skull. “Then believe me.”

“Can’t. It’s bigger than just my feelings here. You’ve gotta know that. You’re not safe like this.”

He stood up, and Castiel grabbed for him, catching the edge of his shirt in his fist. “Don’t leave Dean.” He couldn’t be alone, and he knew in his gut if Dean walked out that door he would never see him again. “Please don’t leave me.”

“It ain’t about leaving you, Cas. I don’t want to leave you. I have to.” He pried Castiel’s fingers from his shirt. “I’ve got a lead to follow. I’ll visit you later, okay?”

Take me with you, he wanted to say. He wanted to cry, to beg, to scream, but he didn’t. He just nodded, his fingers twisted in his sheets, as he watched Dean grab his coat and notepad before walking out the door.

Before

Dean

Cas stumbled out of the building, looking pale as hell, which was saying something considering how pale he always looked. “Hey,” Dean said, hopping out of the car. He jogged to meet Cas, who just about fell into his arms. “You good?”

“‘M good,” Cas mumbled against his shoulder.

“Let’s get you into the car.” Dean helped him into the passenger seat clasping the buckle. Castiel turned to him with heavy lidded eyes. “I don’t have any answers, Dean.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dean said softly. “Was a long shot anyway.”

“Long shot,” he repeated.

“You feelin’ okay?” Dean asked again, looking at him intently.

Cas nodded slowly. “I’m just a little dizzy.”

“You haven’t eaten anything today but coffee.” He offered Cas a supportive smile. “Let’s try lunch.”

“Lunch,” Cas repeated quietly.

Dean nodded to him before closing the door and walking around to get into the driver's seat. It was no secret that Castiel Novak was a little off. He knew that the moment he saw him. It made him interesting though. He was complex. He was a 50 year old scotch. There were some things in life that were just worth it, but more than anything, he believed Dean. Cas believed him when no one else did, and that meant something to him. So even though Cas didn’t seem okay, Dean started the car and backed out of the driveway anyway.

In Dean’s world, food and beer could fix anything. Any wrong doing could be erased by a cheeseburger with extra bacon. He was a simple man, but there were worse things to be. He wasn’t a fool, he knew things weren’t good. He knew it was going to be that simple, but he at least had to try. So he drove to his favorite dive bar, The Roadhouse, the one that had the best burgers in town, hands down.

“Where are we?” Cas asked, squinting out the window. He looked a little better already, Dean thought. Maybe it wasn’t being stuck in the morgue for an hour under screaming fluorescents. He needed some sunlight. Did the body good.

“Food,” Dean said with a soft smile. “We’re getting burgers.”

Cas made a face like he didn’t like that idea, his eyebrows coming together and his lips turning up in distaste.

Dean laughed in response, the chuckle bubbling up in his stomach, tugging his mouth into a smile. “Don’t give me that dirty diaper look. Sammy does the same thing.”

“Sammy?”

“Maybe after a beer or two,” Dean said with a soft compromise. He opened the door and got out of the car, heading inside. He grabbed a high-top at the back of the bar and settled in on the stool. He handed Cas a menu that was tucked behind the condiments against the wall. “You can look, but the best thing is the bacon cheeseburger hands down.”

Castiel stared at the menu, his eyebrows knitted, his blue eyes seeming to glow against his pale skin. “I don’t usually have cheeseburgers.”

“Please tell me you aren’t a salad guy,” Dean said, deadpanned. That could be a deal breaker. Dean was what he liked to call a meat man . He didn’t eat rabbit food. No dice.

“I often forget to eat,” Cas admitted almost shyly, and he was so damn cute with his shaggy hair and big blue eyes that it made Dean’s stomach flip.

“Shouldn’t do that, Cas.”

“I know.”

Dean wasn’t sure he believed him.

The waitress came over to them, her blonde curls falling down her back, and her jeans resting low on her hips. “What can I get you boys?”

“Jo,” he grinned.

“Dean,” she said back, unimpressed.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Two of the regular.”

“And what about for blue eyes over here?” She asked teasingly, her eyes challenging.

“Ha-ha.”

Jo grinned back at him before sliding the menus off the table. “That’ll be right up, boys.”

They were just about the only customers in The Roadhouse, except for an old drunk drowning in his whiskey, slumped on the stool, and a woman focused on her crossword puzzle on the other side of the bartop. “Want to talk about what happened?”

“Nothing to tell,” Cas said absentmindedly as he picked at the peeling edge of the coaster in front of him.

“You were gone for almost an hour.”

“It was my boss,” he confessed. “She caught me rifling through my desk.”

“Shit,” Dean said, leaning forward. “Is everything okay? You in trouble?”

Cas was quiet for a moment, those eyebrows back together, his forehead wrinkling. “No. She just seemed worried about me. She really wants me to take time off.”

Relief flooded his chest as Dean let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. Thank fucking god.

“That’s good, Cas. that’s real fucking good.”

Jo came over with a couple of pint glasses, placing one in front of both of the men along with a bottle of ketchup between them. “Thanks,” Dean said as he grabbed his glass. He pressed his lips to the edge and took a satisfying sip. The hops bit at the back of his tongue and he hummed at the satisfying pine flavor that tingled his taste buds. “The best,” he mused. “Try it.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be drinking…”  

“You’ve gotta get out more, Cas,” Dean laughed, sliding Castiel his beer.

“This isn’t exactly the time for pleasantries, Dean,” Cas said dryly, but he took the beer anyway. Watching Cas’ face as he sipped the beer, his lips turning downward in a frown made Dean a little giddy inside.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta work, but we’ve gotta eat, too. And you’ve gotta relax. You look a little wound up.”

“I take offense to that.”

“You shouldn’t.” Dean snorted with a smirk. “Just means I’m going to have to unwind you.”

Cas looked up at Dean from over his glass, his eyes challenging. “I look forward to seeing you try.” He seemed better even still. Maybe it was being away from all of the chemicals, or maybe it was just he and Dean being together that made Cas relax just a hitch.

“Buddy you’ve got a deal.”

Present

Dean

Walking away from Cas in the hospital was one of the hardest things that Dean ever had to do, but he had to do it. He had a lead on the drug that Meg had in her system. Demon Blood was what they were calling it. It was dangerous and secret. It was a miracle that he got tipped off on it in the first place.

He walked to his car, the Impala parked under a tree on the side of the parking lot. There was still so much that he didn’t know. He was so preoccupied, wrapped up and twisted inside of his own thoughts that he almost missed the paper stuck under his wiper on his windshield.

He reached forward, plucking the folded page. He leaned against the car and unfolded it carefully. It didn’t seem like a parking ticket, and he knew all about those. It was handwritten in red, messy scrawl on printer paper.

Let it go, or let go of Sammy.

He read the line about a thousand times before his stomach twisted in on itself. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. He had to go see his brother.

Dean got in the car and turned the radio up to block out his thoughts, his fears that were bouncing around inside of his skull. He hadn’t told Cas, fuck he hadn’t told anyone where Sammy was. What had happened to his brother after Sam’s fiancee died in that fire. He’d gone off the deep end. It started slow, drinking and pot. He wanted to be fucked up and stay fucked up so he wouldn’t have to face the reality of everything. It just about killed Dean watching his brother disappear in front of him. He wanted to give his little brother the space he needed, but the space almost ruined everything. He’d found Sammy in the bathtub, the shower running, and a needle still stuck in his arm. His lips were blue.

The Winchester brothers had tumbled to rock bottom together, as they’d done everything together.

Sam was in a rehab facility up state, and Dean hadn’t gotten up the nerve to go and see him. He couldn’t look his brother in the face without so much regret that he thought he’d be sick. He couldn’t get the image of his tall, strong brother looking so goddamn small, soaking wet, and dead in front of him. He called 911 and did chest compressions until the ambulance arrived. He pushed and pushed on his brother’s chest until his arms screamed out in pain, and then he pushed again. He’d never forget the sound and feeling of his brother's chest cracking under the pressure of his hands.

Sam had been in rehab for six months, and the closer Dean got to the facility the more his stomach twisted. He felt sick and anxious. Especially since his denial had allowed the same shit to happen to Cas, right under his nose. He knew better. He just didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to have to say goodbye again. It was too damn hard.

But he guessed that he didn’t have much of a choice anymore, especially with the threat scribbled on a piece of paper curled in his fist and pressed against the steering wheel. If Sammy was getting threatened that meant that Dean and Cas were closing in on the answer. He couldn’t let anything happen to his brother, but he couldn’t let this go either. It was too damn fragile. Two were dead already, maybe more. Dean was a detective, an officer of the law. He couldn’t just sit on it. It wasn’t in him.

He pulled up to the facility and parked out front. Rows of dead flowers were stark against the white, clinical exterior of the building. Part of him desperately wanted to turn back, to tuck tail and run, but he was so close to Sammy that he felt the pull in his chest. He missed his baby brother. He missed Sam more than his own fear that pulled at him. More than anything.

Dean pressed the red button by the front door, a ringing sound coming through the speaker. “Can I help you?” A female voice purred through the static.

“Here to see Sam Winchester. Uh, I’m visiting,” he said awkwardly, leaning into the speaker like an idiot.

“Come on in,” she said, before a buzzing sound erupted, the lock on the door audibly clicking.

He opened the door and stepped into the lobby. It smelled clean like Clorox and over-sprayed Febreeze. Cotton fresh my ass, Dean thought grumpily. He scribbled his name on the check-in sheet and headed straight to Sam’s room. After four months of sobriety Sam got a more relaxed schedule. He had to go to group twice a day, therapies, exercise, but other than that he could go where he pleased within the facility. Dean just hoped that Sam was napping instead of off swimming or playing tennis or whatever the fuck they did for fun around there.

He stood in front of Sam’s door, his fist hovering, preparing to knock, but he couldn’t find the strength. He couldn’t shake the image of Sam’s blue lips from his mind. He closed his eyes and counted to three. He had to man up. There were bigger things at work than this. Than his own fear. He had to--

“Dean?”

He hadn’t heard the door open. He was too wrapped up in his own mind. His eyes focused on his brother, three inches taller than him, his hair combed back, and his cheeks pink. He looked good. He looked healthy and strong. “Sammy,” Dean said with an exhale. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I just…” He didn’t know how much he should disclose. He didn’t know what was safe… but looking at his brother, his best friend, it was hard not to just immediately spill everything. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up immediately, probably reading Dean like a book. “Sure. Let’s go to the gardens.”

The Winchester brothers walked side by side in a comfortable silence. There was so much to say, but no words to say it. The gardens turned out to be a hedge maze that went about to Dean’s shoulders. He followed Sam silently through two rights and a left before settling into the center of the maze. There was a large fountain in the center that had no water in it, drained for the cold weather, surrounded by benches. A chill ran up his spine in response to the eeriness surrounding the cold stones and moss covered angel statue in the center.

Sam took a seat on one of the benches. The entire maze seemed to be empty, void of sound apart from the breeze dancing through the hedges. Sam rested his arms on his thighs and clasped his hands together. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for months,” Sam admitted. His eyebrows were together, furrowed, concerned.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I hate you!” Sam screamed as Dean walked away, buzzing out of the facility.

“I blame me,” Dean said, his eyes meeting his brothers. He lowered himself onto the stone edge of the fountain  across from his brother.

“I wanted to thank you. For saving my life and for getting me into this program.”

“Don’t have to thank me, Sammy.”

“Sure I do. You could’ve given up and left me for dead. You didn’t. That means something. I also wanted to say I’m sorry…”

“Stop.” Dean put up his hand. He couldn’t take it. Not when there was a killer on the loose. It was too much. There was only so much a man could take, afterall.

“Dean just let me apologize. It’s a part of my recovery to make amends.”

“Sam that isn’t why I’m here,” Dean said seriously, not trying to scare him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been working this case,” he said, his voice hushed. “A woman was killed. It looked like an overdose, but I think she was murdered.”

Sam frowned a little deeper, wringing his hands.

Maybe Dean shouldn’t have mentioned it. It couldn’t be good for Sam’s recovery. He sucked in his breath, looking at his baby brother. “I think it’s connected with a new street drug… they’re calling it Demon Blood.” A look of recognition flashed across Sam’s face, which made Dean sit up a little straighter. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Who was the girl?” Sam asked tightly. “Can you tell me that?”

Dean eyed his brother suspiciously, but he folded quickly at the softness of his brothers expression, the wetness along his eyes, and all the pain that accompanied it. “Her name was Meg Masters.”

All of the color drained from Sam’s face almost immediately. He looked ill. “Fuck I think I’m going to be sick,” he muttered, covering his mouth.

“Deep breaths, hey, Sam? Look at me,” Dean instructed, and his brother followed suit. Dean held his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “What’s going on? Did you know her?”

Sam nodded slowly, and he let his little brother get his composure before squeezing his shoulders supportively as if he was saying it’s okay, I’m here. You can tell me. “She was a resident here. A friend. She left a month ago… but Dean she was clean. She worked the program hard. She didn’t want… she didn’t want to use anymore.” Pain flashed across Sam’s face again and Dean wasn’t sure if it was from the loss of a friend, or from the knowledge that he could backslide hard. Rock bottom wasn’t always something that a guy can come back from.

“I’m not too convinced that she was using.” His eyes locked on Sam. If they knew each other then Sam could be in danger anyway, even without his connection to Dean. He may already be connected to the case. “Do you know if she had any enemies? Anyone that would want to hurt her?”

Sam shook his head and took a few deep breaths. “There was this woman who visited her a lot, she had long dark hair… she was short, hell almost a foot shorter than me. Their relationship seemed intense. Meg was always quiet when she left.”

“Do you know her name?”

Sam squinted at his hands, deep in thought. “Don’t know a last name, but I’m pretty sure her name was Ruby.”

No. Dean stood up, digging around his pockets for his phone. No no no.

“What’s going on? Dean?”

It couldn’t be! It had to be a coincidence. His hands shook as he brought up some photos that he’d taken at the department Christmas party. “Sammy, is this Ruby?” He asked, handing his brother the phone as he lowered himself back into a seated position. “Do any of those women look familiar.”

Sam nodded slowly as he examined the picture. “Yeah, that’s Ruby… and I’ve seen that other woman as well,” he said, pointing to the background. Dean’s stomach dropped again as he looked at the beautiful blue eyes, even blurred and from so far away, of Cas. He looked unbelievably awkward, and Dean was kicking himself for not noticing him then. They would’ve had so much more time. His chest ached at the thought.

Then his eyes scanned to the woman that Cas was talking to. It was his boss, Naomi. “She was here?”

Sam nodded, looking at Dean. “Only once, but Meg almost slipped when she was here. It wasn’t good, Dean.”

He stood up instantly. That’s all he needed to know. “Ruby works in my office. She’s on the narcotics team.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck is right,” Dean said tightly. His head was spinning, and he could hardly get a handle on it. “I’m checking you out of this place. I’ll make a call. I’ve got somewhere you can go.”

“Dean, wait. I can’t go…”

“They threatened you, Sammy,” Dean said, grabbing  his brother's biceps to make him look at Dean. “They know you’re here and they know I’m close to cracking this. I have to crack it wide open… and I…” He sighed. “I forgive you, Sam. you know that, right? I forgave you the day you were born.”

Sam seemed to examine his brother's face, searching for something before he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Where are we going?”

“Her name is Sheriff Jody Mills, and she’s gonna take good care of you.”

+++

Part Seven