——————————————————————————

Dean stares at that spot on the floor so hard that his eyes start to water.

The door creaks open and then slams shut with a finality that rattled his bones.

His fingers grip the edge of the table in order to keep himself upright. The tension causes his limbs to shake. His eyes continue to water but it’s definitely the strain, the lack of sleep, it’s—

With a roar, he throws his bottle of beer against the wall. He turns around to grab another object but suddenly, he can’t see. Why can’t he see? Why is his face so hot?

It’s the anger. He’s full of it. Rowena. Jack. Mary. There’s no such thing as free will. He never had a fucking chance, not with God playing him like a fiddle.

Every sacrifice he ever made. All the shit he had to do to stay alive, to put food in Sam’s belly, to avoid too much trouble, keep Sam alive, not to mention keeping dad happy. Every time he had to make a tough call, to go without, anytime they lost somebody, an innocent. None of it ever fucking mattered.

Kevin. Eileen. Charlie. Ellen and Jo and Ash. He could do this all day, list out all the people he loved and lost and it was for nothing.

He fumbles with his doorknob, sucking in air like it’s going to make his head stop spinning.

Exhaustion settles in, plucking all the strength from his body. He falls into his bed and curls, his limbs instinctively twisting and pulling himself in. Trying to hold it together and trying to breathe, Dean grabs his pillow and grasps the blankets.

“Cas.”

He whispers the name that changed his whole life. He tries to speak again, to say the words he couldn’t say in the library, to allow his feelings to be heard and stupidly hoping he’s not the only one listening, but he can’t. He can’t do it.

It wouldn’t matter anyway. The angel’s powers are failing. He’d thought about it over the last couple of weeks and promptly shelved the thought, wanting to avoid having another goddamned crisis on his hands. Now, it’s too late.

It’s too late for everything. He wasted a fucking decade hiding who he really is and treating Castiel like dirt, especially recently. It was too close. They were too close. He couldn’t risk— he couldn’t—

And now he’ll never know. He’s squandered his chance at the apple pie life, at the happily ever after, or whatever fucking version of a fairytale ending two old hunters can have. What they’d had was already more than he could have ever hoped for, unlovable and destructive as he is. That’s more true than ever, now.

He’s afraid to face Sam in the morning. Sam, who just lost Rowena and now he’s lost Cas, too, he just doesn’t know it yet. Fuck.

He’s never gotten it all right in his whole life so it was never going to start now, was it? He was only ever lying to himself. Never had his own free will. Never made his choices. Never mattered.

He never mattered and without Cas, he’s sure he never will.

*****

Walking is slower than driving but Cas couldn’t possibly walk through the library, through the Bunker, to the garage, pick up his keys and go. He couldn’t walk the halls of the only home he’s ever known and then leave it.

He already regrets not getting a chance to say goodbye to Sam. And by the way his “radio” perks, he’s not the only one with regrets.

The entire time he walks toward town, Cas listens to Dean’s regrets. His sadness. Cas feels the echo of it in his own chest. All of his fears about his place in the Winchesters’ home are confirmed. Moving on is the only thing left to do, despite the pain.

Siento mi cuerpo liviano, el corazón acelerado, escucho la historia de los demás.

Saben esto me asusta pero me gusta como dice la canción. Me da dislexia al escribir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cas sits at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He’s almost tired enough to understand human tired-ness. He’s weary. Drained but not done. He isn’t powerless.

He remembers the adrenaline during the fight against the Leviathans. Hand to hand combat against multiple deadly enemies, having to regain control of the situation, these were things that used to be utterly common for him. As the leader of his garrison, Castiel had faced countless battles like that one before.

This one was different. It was different because it was him alone and his power alone that could defeat them. Not even his angelic ability, his skill with his angel blade aside. Without all of Heaven’s forces behind him, Cas was still just as strong and just as mighty. Slightly bruised, he won, and the victory felt sweeter for it.

It was different because Dean looked at him with so much admiration, so much pride. Dean was proud of him. Sam was, too, when they told him.

The kitchen was quieter without Eileen but still good. It felt good to sit at the table with the two of them and to recount their struggles and triumphs of the day. If Sam said they needed another way, then they would find another way. Cas trusts Sam wholeheartedly on this.

But there was one more shadow, one more absence at the table that weighs on him. He misses Jack like another limb.

An unexpected sob rises in Cas’s chest when he thinks of the boy, of the loss. Behind his eyelids he sees his own hand, he...

He doesn’t stop the tears. It hurts, it still does, to mourn.

“Cas?”

He hadn’t heard Dean knock but when he looks up, Dean’s knuckles are against the door and his other hand on the knob. His face is twisted with concern.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas sniffles and refuses to feel ashamed for it.

“Hey,” Dean replies gently. He drops his hands and shifts his weight, looking uncertain and like he’s compelling himself to stay when he just wants to run. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Cas moves over a bit on the bed to make room and Dean takes the invitation to sit.

“About earlier. In Purgatory.” Dean bites his lip. “You heard me.”

“Yes.” Cas also refuses to feel ashamed for this; he had felt so many emotions listening to Dean’s prayer. It motivated him in his fight, it kept him walking in the right direction, kept him upright and strong. Knowing for the first time the depth of Dean’s feelings made Cas more powerful than ever.

“But not all of it.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas says and turns to look at Dean.

“I was, what I wanted to say. At, like, when I caught up to you at the rift,” Dean stammers. Cas waits patiently. Dean looks so conflicted, wringing his hands and not making eye contact. “I had built up all that nerve, you know, and now it’s all gone.”

“It’s not all gone,” Cas reassures him, or at least he hopes he does. “I’m right here and you are here and you have more strength than anyone I know. All of those things you said,” he continues, “you were so courageous to be so vulnerable. It meant a lot to me.”

Dean finally looks at him, awe-struck and wondering. “Really?”

“Of course,” Cas repeats. “It can be hard to remember kind words when they are infrequently spoken.”

Suddenly, Dean looks very sad.

“That’s my fault,” he whispers. “I’m the one who can’t open my damn mouth and tell you—and tell you.”

Cas wants to say ‘you did tell me’ and he wants to reassure Dean it’s okay, he will hold on to it, he doesn’t need to keep going. But something holds him back. Something in Dean’s posture keeps him quiet. Cas leaves his body language open, his expression neutral.

Dean watches him, his eyes big and full of something Cas can’t name.

“I just wanted to tell you. I’m gonna tell you now and I’ll keep telling you, I promise I will. If I don’t say it enough, I need you to tell me so I can get better at it and I can tell you more. Because I want to, I’ve got to, you know?”

Cas has no idea what Dean is saying but clearly he doesn’t need to respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you that I love you, Cas. That’s what I wanted to say back there and I needed to say it to your face because you deserve to hear it for the first time in person so I was gonna say it there but we had to leave and so I’m telling you, uh, right now, I guess.”

Dean deflates ever so slightly, the tension draining out of his body. Cas, on the other hand, feels like a tightly wound spring, like a flower about to bloom, like lightning about to split the air. The very phrase that he’d waited so long to hear is finally in the space between them and it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“Dean, I love you, too,” he says. “I always have.”

And Dean has tears in his eyes when he smiles and when he replies, “I know.”

[ END HERE UNLESS YOU WANT ANGST ]