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Dean slowly opened his eyes and the bright light instantly sent a wave of sharp pain through his brain. His whole body was aching; every muscle felt torn, his insides twisted up. It took a good minute until he could focus on his surroundings.
He was lying in a hospital bed. The steady beeping next to him told him he must be alive. On the chair beside him sat Sam, asleep. Dark shadows under his eyes, his forehead furrowed with sorrow and his stubble more than three days old. Aside from Sam, the room was almost empty. A white wardrobe and the IV stand with some liquid slowly dropping into his arm were the only things he could see without moving his head. He felt like never moving again. Ever.
For quite a while, or so it felt, Dean tried to wrap his head around what had happened to him. Thinking was hard. Did some monster gotten him? A demon? Was he hit by a bus? He couldn’t tell. But something had happened. Something heavy sat in his chest. Waiting.
“Dean?” Sam leaned in. “Dean, hey… you’re awake!” A warm hand touched his right shoulder. Sams voice was shaking a bit.
Dean wanted to respond, wanted to show his little brother that he was okay. But his throat was dry and sore. He coughed a little, tried to clear it. “Sammy,” he finally got out, barely more than a whisper.
“You want some water?” Sam didn’t wait for the answer. He reached for the nightstand next to him and took a cup. Carefully, he put this big hand behind Dean’s pounding head and lifted it a little, holding the cup to his lips. Dean’s body screamed in pain, but he didn’t show it. He had to be brave for Sam. His brother looked so helpless and hurt, his eyes wet from holding back tears. Dean took a sip, coughed, took another, coughed even more, feeling like he was about to drown.
“Thanks,” he said with a voice so rough it sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a week.
Sam rested Deans head back on the pillow. “How’re you feeling?”
Dean tried a smile. “Never better,” he rasped, trying to hide the pain in his body and that terrible feeling of not knowing what had happened but fearing it was worse than he could bear. “I’ll live” he continued, then paused and added, “Or.. will I?” With every word, his voice came back a little more.
“God, yes. Dean, you’ll be fine. The doctor said you’ll be fine.”
“Then why do you look like someone died?” Dean asked. “How long have I been here? What...” he hesitated. “What happened?”
Sam’s face grew even sadder. He brushed a strand of hair from his face that immediately fell back. “You’ve been here for three days... I was waiting for you to wake up. I wanted to be here.”
Dean swallowed. Three days. Something must’ve hit him really bad. Something had gone wrong. The memory was creeping closer, but he couldn’t catch it yet.
Sam’s hand rested on Dean’s upper arm, his grip soft and tight at the same time. “I don’t know exactly what went wrong. The spell must’ve… backfired on you. The room around you was a mess and you were… just lying there in the middle of it all. I thought you were dead, man.”
The spell. “No.” Dean’s voice cracked. The spell – the ritual. Their last shot at getting him out. The last hope they had of bringing Cas back. It hadn’t worked. He squinted his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line. “No.”
Sam said nothing, just looked at his big brother, holding his arm in comfort. But Dean turned his head away. A tear rolled down his cheek, burning in the scratches and cuts in his skin.
He knew this meant a final goodbye to Cas. They had tried everything to get him back from the Empty. They’d asked everyone for help, read every book, tried every spell. The last one had been given to them by Rowena. It came with a big warning.
“This is very dangerous, boys. You have to be careful and there is no guarantee. I can’t promise you it’ll work. I doubt anybody ever dared to try this.”
Then she had given Dean a long, intense look – hard at first, then softening. She smiled sadly. “I know you’ll try everything.” Dean hadn’t responded, just looked away.
“Dean, you promised…,” Sam began, staring at the back of Dean’s head. “You said this was the last shot. If it didn’t work... we’d let him go. For good.”
“I know.” Dean’s voice was so full of pain that it scared Sam. “You got it.” For some moments, both were silent. Then Dean, in an awfully tired and resigned tone, said, “Get some rest, Sammy. You look worse than me.”
Sam didn’t even try to object. He knew Dean wanted to be alone. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” He waited a moment to see if Dean would turn towards him, then left.
* * *
When Dean woke up the next morning he felt he’d been through hell and back. Again. The weight of his loss laid on his body even more painful than all the cuts and bruises and broken bones. Dean swallowed some pain killers and flushed them down with water. He could move his arms and his head better than the day before, even had a nurse taken him to the bathroom, but that had taken all his energy.
The sun sent warm beams through the windows, the clock on the wall showed 09:30. Sam wasn’t there. Dean checked his nightstand, but there was no mobile phone. He couldn’t call him. Suddenly Dean felt bad for sending him away in the afternoon. But he needed to be alone. And he didn’t want Sam to see his tears.
Over the past eight months, since the Empty had taken Cas, Dean had felt like he lost an arm, sometimes more like he lost his brains. The days and weeks after that goddamn night he just functioned on autopilot. He did what had to be done. His feelings buried deep inside him. He ignored Sam’s ongoing questions. “What happened?”, “Where’s Cas?” and later, after he told him, well… a version of it, “How are you?”, “You okay?”. Sam grieved. He grieved his friend, his family. He cried, he tried to talk about it and after a while, he got better. But Dean… Dean didn’t talk about it. Tried to not even think about it. He hunted like a man possessed, barely did anything else. He killed everything in his way and between the long drives and the killing, he drank. He isolated from everybody and burrowed his sorrows in alcohol.
It was almost 11 a.m. when the door opened and somebody entered the room. “Look who finally decided to wake up!” Dean said without even turning toward the door. “Did you bring some pie?”
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean’s heart skipped a beat. A heat wave went through his body, his muscles tightened. That wasn’t Sam’s voice. The steps coming closer to his bed weren’t his brother’s.
He hesitated for one more second, then slowly turned his head. He had trouble breathing, his heart started to race. The mildly confused look on the friendly face belonged to Castiel. Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood there in his trenchcoat, hair slightly disheveled, his blue eyes locked on Dean.
“What...” began Dean, then noticed a little movement in the door behind Cas. It was Sam.
“It’s him. I tested… everything.” He smiled.
Dean’s brain stalled. “But... but –“
“Dean – It’s him.” Sam nodded and then slowly closed the door from the outside. His steps faded away in the hall.
Dean looked back to Cas, who was now slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was so close. Dean’s mouth was dry, his head felt hot. “C- ... Cas?” he rasped, still in disbelief.
“Yes, Dean. It’s me. I am back.” He raised a hand and moved it toward Dean’s, but then stopped mid-air. “You brought me back, Dean.”
Dean just stared. All kinds of feelings rushed through his body. His eyes scanned the whole angel, studying every detail. He looked the same and somehow different. His dark hair looked freshly washed and soft, his face tired. His blue eyes seemed to glow – happy, but also insecure and sorrowful. When Deans’s glance met the hand hanging mid air, Cas lowered it again and rested it on his thigh.
“You’re back?” Dean felt like an idiot. He had to pull himself together, but he was unable to think clearly. “For good?” he added.
Cas nodded, trying a careful smile. “Thanks to you.”
“But something went wrong. I thought I blew it… I thought…” Dean swallowed hard. Reality started to trickle through to him. Cas was back. They had done it. It felt like a frickin’ miracle. A crooked smile appeared on his face, at the same time his eyes began to fill with tears that he tried to hold back.
“I can’t believe it… I thought... God, I don’t know what to say. Tell me I’m not dreaming. You’re real?” He laughed, but it sounded more anxious than happy.
Cas smiled. “As far as I can tell… yes.” He raised his hand again, and this time he found the courage to lay it on Dean’s. It was like electricity hit Dean and went through his whole body. His expression twisted into a fragile mix of laughter and tears as he grabbed Cas’ arm and pulled him into a tight hug. When Cas’ arms reached around Dean’s back, pulling him up, Dean’s tears finally slipped free. As he laughed, his mouth trembled under the weight of everything he could no longer hold back. He felt Cas’ head against his own, felt his warmth and the soft shaking as Cas started to cry as well. One arm wrapped around Cas’ back, the other hand gripping the back of his head, burying his fingers in his hair.
They stayed like this for a minute, holding on to each other, breathing each other in. When Dean let go of Cas and sank back into his pillows, he took a sharp breath und grimaced in pain.
“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Cas looked at him, worried, while wiping his face dry.
“No, I’m good. It's just the aftermath of that spell, whatever it did to me. I feel like I got hit by multiple busses.” Dean laughed. “But hell, it was worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I have a theory on that,” replied Castiel, and Dean raised his brows.
“Before I tell you, Dean… I want you to know I am fine. There is nothing to worry about, and I have made my peace with it.”
Dean was alarmed immediately. “What the hell happened?”
“When the spell pulled me out of the Empty, I got separated from my grace. I woke up in the middle of a forest somewhere, and that is why it took me a couple of days to get to the bunker. When I arrived, nobody was there. I waited. When Sam returned yesterday afternoon, he found me and tested if it was really me. He told me what happened.” Cas took a moment to take a deep breath while Dean watched him, alert.
“When I entered the bunker, I could feel it already… and then I saw it. The spell burned up my grace, and that released power is what hit you – what almost killed you. You were incredibly lucky, Dean.” Cas rested his hand on Deans shoulder for a brief moment.
“That kind of power could have blown the entire bunker apart. The fact that you and Sam survived… it’s a miracle.”
Dean’s stomach dropped. “I burned up your grace?”, he asked in a husky voice.
“Not you, Dean. The spell. What is important is that you got me out. I am forever grateful for that.” He smiled, and Dean knew that he meant it.
“But you’re not an angel anymore. You’re... human now.”
“I have been human before, if you remember. I am just like you now. You and Sam. I will be okay, Dean.”
Dean heavily rubbed his face with one hand, then sighed and looked into Cas’ blue eyes, tired. “I’m still sorry. I …”
“Nothing comes without a price, Dean,” Cas interrupted softly. He got up from the bed smoothed out his trench coat. “You are tired. You need to rest so your body can heal. I will come back – “
“No, wait!” Dean leaned forward and grabbed Cas’ wrist. “Don’t go. Not yet.” He tried to sound calm, but his voice gave away how anxious he felt. “Come on,” Dean added, now calmer. “I just got you back, man. Let me have a damn minute.” He tried a smile. “I got a ton of questions. There are things… I wanna say…”
Cas looked at him, intense, searching for something in Dean’s face. He hesitated, while Dean’s grip around his wrist was still holding on. Slowly, he sat back on the edge of the bed. Dean’s hand let go and he looked relieved. Silence spread while they kept looking at each other.
Dean’s thoughts raced through his head. He didn’t know what to say, what to ask first. He felt the urge to tell Cas all the things he couldn’t tell him over the past months – things he’d barely been able to admit to himself. Even though he knew about Cas’ feelings, it was still so hard for him to talk about it. To even think about it.
“Cas, I… ,” he started, then interrupted himself, swallowed. “Uhm… when you were… gone…” His eyes pinned down on his own hand, fidgeting with the blanket. “I mean, after you… disappeared…” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t doing so good, man.” He looked up. The look on Cas’ face was caring and sad.
“I am sorry, Dean. Sam told me you grieved for me. I wish I could have done someth-“
“I didn’t just grieve, Cas.” Deans voice, quiet before, now grew louder and harder. “You disappearing like that… it screwed me up. Big time.” His voice cracked from pain.
“Dean…” Cas looked surprised about Dean opening to him like that. “I am sorry. I did what I believed I had to…”
“For god’s sake, Cas, don’t you apologize for sacrificing yourself to save everyone else.” Dean took a deep breath to calm himself down, before he continued, now softer. “For saving me… I don’t need you to apologize to me… it’s just…” He looked him right in the eyes. “I just want you to know. It was so damn hard, Cas. Losing you. Again. I couldn’t… handle it. At all.”
Now it was Castiel, who looked down on his hands, he was frowning. He opened his mouth to say something, then looked up, defeated, remaining silent.
“Cas… what you said to me… you know, before…-“
“Dean, you don’t have to say anything about his. Really. I don’t want things between us to become… awkward. I said what I wanted to say. We don’t have to talk about it.”
Dean furrowed his brows. “No. We do.”
Castiel took a breath to say something, but Dean continued speaking. “Cas… I would like to tell you a story.”
When Cas slowly nodded, Dean began.
“When I was about fourteen, we’ve lived in a small town somewhere in Oregon for some weeks in row. It wasn’t a bad time, actually. I even made a friend. One afternoon, I invited him to our motel. We sat on the sofa, had some snacks, watched TV and talked. Dad wasn’t home, Sammy was in the bedroom. After a while we had some real deep talk about problems with our dads, about moving all the time and stuff like this. It felt so easy to talk to him. He was a great kid.”
He smiled at Cas. “Anyway… we sat there on the sofa and somehow… we got closer while talking. You know… knees touched, and after a while he took my hand. He just did it like it was the most natural thing to do, and I let it happen. It felt good. Then he… uhm… then he leaned in and kissed me.”
Cas raised his eyebrows, his mouth opening just a bit. He looked so surprised that Dean had to chuckle. “Yeah, I was surprised too… it was… uhm … it was nice. And then… Dad came home.”
Dean’s gaze moved away from Cas. He stared out of the window as he continued. “He lost it the second he saw us. He started yelling before the door even closed... My friend was so scared he just ran away as soon as Dad cleared the way to the door.” Deans voice was cold now. “He came at me. Told me, this was sick and I had to be a real man and stuff like that. I tried to deny it, I tried to explain. But he just started to beat the shit out of me.”
Cas took a sharp breath. “Dean… that is awful. I am sorry you had to go through this.”
Dean continued to stare out of the window. He clenched his fists. “It was pretty bad. I was bleeding. He broke my nose. I have no idea if Sammy heard us or not. Maybe he was just smart enough not to come out… After that, I just shoved all that crap down. Way down. I buried it. Locked it up… I forgot about the boy. We moved the next day and I never saw him again. Can’t even remember his name now... Eventually I forgot about that part of me completely. I never spoke about it, not even with Sam.”
Dean turned back to Castiel, who was looking at him with watery eyes und furrowed brows. “When you became our friend, Cas, I started to… slowly remember. I was confused, it still felt wrong. Over time, those feelings got stronger and they really settled in. Every time you disappeared or died it got worse. I just… I still couldn't admit it to myself… and there was no need cause how could I ever think that you…? I didn’t even know angels could feel this way.”
Dean reached for Cas’ hand and took it. “Cas, you said, that you can’t have me, but you were wrong. You have me.“
It was almost shy, the way Dean looked up at Cas’ face, waiting for a reaction. Cas looked back at him, like he’d seen a ghost. When he slightly squinted his eyes and tilted his head – looking exactly like he had all those years ago when all of this started – Dean lost it.
“Well here goes nothing,” he whispered grabbing the collar of Castiel’s trench coat. He pulled him so close their faces almost touched, then suddenly stopped, just looking into Cas’ bright blue eyes. Cas stared back, his face a mess of a thousand emotions.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything back there, Cas. I’m sorry I just stood there.” His voice was so quiet that Cas could only hear him because he was so close. Dean felt his breath on his face, on his lips, and had trouble keeping it together. “I love you too… I have for a damn long time.”
When Cas finally closed the small gap between their lips and kissed him, Dean immediately forgot all the pain in his body and the weight of the story he just told. His mind went blank and his body took over. They kissed like letting go wasn’t even an option. Like they’d been waiting years for it. They felt the need for wach other, the longing they'd kept secret for so long.
“I missed you so much.” Dean gently eased Cas back, just far enough for him to catch his breath again. Their foreheads touched. Both were smiling, heads red from the heat of their bodies. For a minute their heavy breathing was the only noise in the room.
„I can’t believe this is real, Dean.“ He took Dean’s face in both hands and looked at him with so much love in his eyes that Dean was sure his heart was about to jump out his chest like in a cartoon.
„Is this… truly happening?“
Dean grinned. „As far as I can tell… yes.“