curseboxes | {perkynipples} You don't understand. I NEED pie.

{perkynipples} You don't understand. I NEED pie.

Castiel had had ample time to stew in the juices of his misdeeds long before he returned to the bunker, his groceries in hand. When Dean was not there he grew agitated. When a full day came and went without word from either of the Winchesters he grew worried.

Considering the present climate of chaos in their lives any number of unsavory scenarios had occurred to Castiel as possibilities for their absence - but Dean has forbidden Castiel to go to him, so he tries to comply with Dean's wishes for once and stays. That doesn't mean it's easy. It doesn't mean the combination of his own intense guilt, his feeling of helplessness, and general ill-ease about Castiel's fight with Dean has made it easy. By the time he hears the impala pull up outside he's worked himself back into irritation again, almost anger, and so when Sam and Dean finally make their way in the door the first thing that comes out of Castiel's mouth is a very gruff and confrontational "Where were you?"

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What does it mean? Is he-- is he joking, or something? Dean stares Cas down like he doesn't quite believe what he's hearing, because there's no fucking way he's really asking that. What the hell else does I need you mean? What does Cas want him to say, does he want him to wax poetic about shit that Dean always has trouble talking about?

"That's your problem, Cas," Dean finally says, tired, watching him. "You don't need me to do this. You don't need the fucking angels, don't need Crowley, don't need anything but you to figure out what the hell you want. Stop lookin' at one of us to tell you what you're supposed to do -- that's the whole point of free will, Cas."

It's all said in one long, rough rush, and by the end of it, his shoulders are tight again, all the way until he hears that and his stomach drops.

"You what."

There are things he still needs to say, things that he needs to clarify because Dean still isn't understanding what he's asking. He can figure out who he is in time, certainly. He just doesn't understand where he fits in. If he's not a brother, if he's not a friend, if he's not a comrade in arms or a weapon to be used then what the hell is he?

"I think that I am falling. Like I did before. During the apocolypse. Becoming human." It's the only explanation for the series of symptoms that Castiel is experiencing, and really he should have seen it before - maybe he even did - but he doesn't really want to admit it even now because it's too frightening. "I'm not healing the way that I should be, I'm tired, exhausted, I slept last night - eight hours. I'm hungry, and I have a headache."

"But you can't," Dean says in a rush, hoarse and near panicked, because no, no no no, he knows how close they are to 2014, knows that things are fucking miserable. But there are still angels on earth, so he can't be, that's just not possible.

"Cas, there are still angels here. Still a ton of 'em being dicks all over the place."

He swallows, stares at the other man, taking note of everything - the exhaustion, the sleep, the hunger, the headache, and they still don't have real food, aside from what Cas bought.

"How the fuck do we fix it?"

"Fix it?" Castiel laughs slightly bitter and sad all at the same time, and every bit of it aimed at himself. "Dean, we don't. I have fallen so far, rebelled so thoroughly. I believe that heaven has simply decided that I am no longer welcome. I've crossed too many lines. If this is what I am becoming then there is no going back this time."

He's quiet for a moment and then turns back to Dean, a helpless look on his face. "It's terrifying. It was before, but I honestly didn't think we would survive the apocalypse I wasn't worried about where I would fit in in the world. Now things are different. I have no identity here, no connections, just you and Sam. In that respect this might not be so bad, except that the current state of our relationship has left me thoroughly shaken. And for that reason, when I ask you what you see in me what I am asking is ... have I lost you?"

No. No, things can't go like this. There's no virus, no end of the world, because they're gonna fix this. They're going to make this better, where they haven't yet. They're gonna nuke the black eyed bitches, gonna shut Heaven out of here somehow, gonna take care of all of this. They have to.

"You can make connections. You're not--" Dean laughs, just a little bit, and it sounds bitter and jagged and wrong spilling out of his mouth. "You aren't Sam and I. You've got a helluva better chance than we do."

Cas falling wouldn't be the worst thing, in his mind, so long as he wasn't stuck with Dean and Sam. Maybe he'd find another girl, find Daphne, settle down and have a good, wholesome Christian life, without the end of the world looming over them.

"Cas, people fight." He says it like he's explaining it to a child, and doesn't quite look at him. "I'm pissed at you, I'm not kicking you out."

"I don't want a life out there. I wasn't brought up valuing family and jobs and security the way that humans are. I am in this life whether I am with you or not, I would just rather be with you."

He takes a few steps towards Dean when he explains that this is merely a fight, and Castiel looks doubtful. "I asked you how I can fix things between us. You said that we can't. You haven't asked me to leave, no, but that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking about you and me. Are you simply angry, something that we can resolve? Or have I fallen too far out of your respect. I want to be here, but I won't stay if you're only letting me remain because you would feel guilty putting me out. I want to repair our friendship. I want you to trust me again. I don't expect an immediate fix, I just need to know if it's possible."

He can't decide how he feels about this. On one hand, he wants to be angry. Wants to tell him that he's being stupid and asking stupid questions and that he needs to just shut up and get better, and then they can have the feelings and sap talk, but there's no such luck, there.

"It isn't like a formula, man," Dean says quietly, staring down at the table rather than at Cas, fingers easing away a mark on it as he rubs. "You don't just put A and B together and get C, which fixes everything, okay."

And then the rest of it settles in, and yeah, anger, that's normal, that's safe, and Dean bristles.

"I gotta say, though, I love how only now it's a talk of hey, can I stay. Like I ever kicked you out. Like I ever said our home wasn't open to you, like I-- you're the one who fucking left us. Don't even start."

"That's not what I mean!" He's losing his temper and he doesn't mean to but he is so frustrated with his inability to communicate and express himself and he longs for the days when Dean could just look at him and know what he meant.

"I'm not asking if I can stay. I'm asking if you can stand it if I do. I never wanted to leave you, Dean. Do you remember what I said to you when I got back? You asked me what I wanted to do and I told you I wanted to be a hunter. That I wanted to ride shotgun. The first thing I did was return to you before even pausing to clean myself up. I went straight to you. And that is what I do when I have free will. I only left you after it had been taken away."

"I can't do this, Cas," Dean says hoarsely, before he can get anything else out. Yeah, Cas had returned. Yeah, Cas had vanished and come back a dozen times so far, and yeah it hadn't gone as stellar as either of them would have liked but that didn't mean that it couldn't go better from here on out.

None of that meant anything right then, though, because Cas just isn't getting it. It's not about the fact that Cas came back. "You left, Cas. You took the tablet and left. You just keep doin' it, and yeah, you keep coming back, but I can't--"

Dean makes a furious, unhappy noise in the back of his throat, gripping the chair tighter.

There are so many things that Castiel would tell him about that night and why he'd left. He won't do it right now seeing the way that Dean is turned away, gripping the chair, not finishing his sentences. He's betrayed himself some, and Castiel has begun to understand the real problem at hand.

Dean is often like a timed bomb waiting to go off when caught up in his emotions, and Castiel is almost certain that he's the last person who should try to deal with him like this. The fact is that he wants to be the one to do it though, and though he knows he's probably only going to further upset Dean now, he has to try.

He steps behind him and places his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I love you, Dean. I didn't leave you, I was taken."

Dean doesn't know if that's the worst thing to say, or the best. He jerks around at hearing it, and stares, caught between blatant disbelief and anger, and settles for going blank, simply staring at the angel a long moment.

"I don't wanna discuss this."

Cas is close enough that he's in that no personal space zone that used to irritate Dean so severely, and it leaves Dean trapped between the back of the chair and Castiel. "I know that you don't, but if I let this go now won't we just end up back at the same impasse in a few hours, days?"

He's doing his best not to react - it's not Cas' fault he's not human, doesn't get these things, damnit, but Dean presses back against the chair, and he jerks a little, caught between the two of them, not looking unlike a caged animal as he grips it tight and tries to sidle away. He doesn't react well when he's pressured, when he's backed into a wall like this.

"Can't promise that," Dean says, and it's horrible and petty and he wants to take it back as soon as he says it and it shows on his face, "Just like you can't promise you'll stay. Now step the hell back."

He steps back, what other choice does he have? He can't force Dean to understand and accept him any more than he can force him to forgive him and he doesn't want something he's wrung out of him anyway. What he does know, is that he has very few options at this point, and he can't live without Dean in his life. If he is becoming human and Dean can't forgive him then he is afraid he will end up going down a very dark road.

"I'll leave you alone then." There's no sense bringing it back up, if they're just going to end up back in this same spot over and over again. Not until Castiel has a solution. "I'm going to walk around the bunker. I won't leave the building."

He slumps a little when Cas finally steps away, and god, Dean's on edge, hands clenching tight and holding there a moment while he stands there. Cas moves away, and Dean feels like he can breathe again, closing his eyes a long moment.

"Okay."

What else is there to say to that? Dean pulls away entirely, and waves a hand to the hall.

"I'm- gonna lay down, sleep or something."

It's three hours later when Sam knocks on Dean's door. He doesn't really wait for him to answer, just sticks his head in. It's not fully formed yet, but there's a bitchface in the works, crawling in at the edges of his eyes, the tightness of his lips. He looks exhausted, but that's not all of it.

"Dean, we need to talk."

Oh, boy.

Dean sits up, instantly awake the moment that someone's at the door, because he's been on edge and he can't shake it, and all he really, really wants right now is a drink. Dean sits up, pushes a hand through messy hair, and softens his voice a little, because he thinks Sam wants to talk about Sarah. Big brother mode is so much easier to slip into than dealing with Cas, and Dean shifts on the bed, watching him.

"How're you feelin'? Did you sleep?"

No, no Sam did not sleep. Not that he really expected to. He's pointedly not thinking about Sarah right now because if he thinks about Sarah he's going to lose all of his resolve and then her death will be for basically nothing. So instead he's doing what comes easiest to him and that's worry about Dean and his angel.

Which had turned out to be a mistake, but seeing as he couldn't make any headway with one idiot he thinks he'll try the other.

"What's going on with you and Cas?" He ignores Dean's question outright, and goes straight for what's bugging him. No sense dancing around the issue or building up to it. Dean won't be any more excited to talk about it.

Dean doesn't miss the way Sam lingers in the doorway, watches him so intently. He looks like shit, still, but it could be worse. He could be passed out - Dean'll take this. At least, all the way up until that question gets asked, and Dean shuts down, just like that, face blank.

"We're arguin'. People do that. We're gonna figure it out in the morning after some sleep."

Dean drags the covers up, just so he has something to touch, something to do with his hands.

Yep, closed down immediately, just about what Sam had expected. He comes in the room and takes a seat on the chair facing Dean's bed - the one on the blank side of the room that Sam has never and will never comment on. It's not his business. What is his business is what's happened while Dean was sulking.

"You sure about that? I mean I've had my share of arguments over the years but usually they don't end in bondage."

Dean stares him down for a moment, like he's not quite sure if they're really gonna have this conversation, and then Sam sits, and goddamnit. "Bond-- dude, no."

No one is in fucking bondage, okay, he doesn't know what you're talking about.

"At least I think that's what they usually call it when someone demands to be chained in a dungeon. If you have a better word for it I am all ears." And yeah it's ridiculous the way he is going about telling Dean this, but the whole fucking situation is so god damn ridiculous that Sam just doesn't have any proper means of expressing how irritated he is with both of them that they let it escalate to this level of stupidity. And Cas, the moron, had just been so bloody earnest and insistent that Sam had decided that it wasn't his angel, it wasn't his problem. He'd do what he wanted and then Dean could deal with it however he chose.

What the hell is he even talking about. Dean stares at him like he's speaking another language, and squints a little, glancing from him to the clock - it's ass o'clock in the morning, what the fuck is he even going on about? "No one demanded to be chained in th--"

Oh.

Oh.

Realization swims over his face, and something a little like rage. "Tell me he didn't."

"He said he didn't know any other way to ensure that he couldn't be taken by the angels and couldn't fall back on any bad programming now that he's lost the angel tablet and leave and then demanded I lock him in the dungeon. Apparently those chains are angel-proof as well. I told him no, of course but then he started to get worked up so I figured it was better to just give him what he wanted."

Actually, Sam feels a little bit weird about this, like he's tattling on dad to mom or something - and he really, really doesn't want to examine how accurate that is.

Of course he did. Of course he did. Dean is so pissed that he could spit, and he rolls out of bed in an unsteady rush, dragging sweatpants on.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he mutters, and trusts Sam to follow as he starts off out of the room, only to stop. "Where are the keys to the cuffs?"

{perkynipples} You don't understand. I NEED pie.

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