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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He legitimately cannot fathom this right now. He's all wound up six different ways and his heart is aching and he really, really wants to make sure his little brother is okay, wants to busy himself with research and cooking and doing something with his hands, something with his body so he doesn't feel so fucking useless with the deaths of everyone looming over their heads.

Castiel curls his arms around him and Dean sinks against him with a shudder, giving him the same hard hug that Sam had gotten a few days ago, breathing unevenly. "Don't, okay." Dean pulls away, face carefully, carefully blank, eyes closed a moment. "We'll figure everything out later."

Cas closes his eyes shut tight and gives himself a moment to memorize this, the feeling of being in Dean's arms and held tight, just in case he never does get it again. He hopes he will. He pulls back and because he isn't ready to let go entirely just yet, he reaches up and rubs his thumb against Dean's cheek briefly (it's a sad parallel of the touch that Dean left Castiel with in purgatory) before letting go and stepping back.

"Alright. We'll figure it out later."

"Okay."

Thank god.

Dean draws back, shifts away, as much as is humanly possible right then, easing back and swallowing around the dryness in his throat, trying to figure out how to do it without hurting his feelings.

"Now, c'mon, you look like shit, I feel like shit, and Sam's both, so I'm keepin' the two of you close."

It's alright, now, now that Castiel doesn't feel like his whole world is crashing down around him, now that Dean knows, now that he has hope.

"I wouldn't mind a shower, and a change of clothes if you have them." Because now that he's becomming human he's noticing just how uncomfortable the clothes he has on are when he has a stomach wound. "And you still have to tell me what happened with Abaddon."

Clothes and a shower he can manage. Dean nods, grateful and eager to get to something he can help, and his hand touches the small of Castiel's back, just a moment, as he walks him down the hall to Dean's room.

At the mention of Abaddon, though, his eyes roll up to the ceiling and he breathes out harshly through his nose.

"We fucked it up, that's the gist."

Castiel winces when Dean admits he made a mistake nods his head. "I imagined something went wrong when you weren't here when I returned from shopping."

He did more than shop of course and he still needs to tell Dean about everything he missed, but now isn't the right moment. Later, when he's showered and they're sitting more comfortably. "There are things I need to tell you too. Things that happened when you were gone."

"Shopping," Dean breathes out a laugh, exhausted and amused in different parts, and starts down the way to his room, opening the door for Cas. He goes digging for a pair of his sweatpants, and one of his well-worn shirts, and passes them over. This doesn't...really fix anything, not truthfully, but right now, Dean's grateful that he doesn't have to think about this.

He can shove down the fact that he's pissed at Cas, shove down the fact that he's tired, and sore, and aching over the loss of two people they'd saved, and focus on this. Focus on his brother and the angel, and force himself from there.

"So? Lay 'em out."

There is a new issue of Busty Asian Beauties and a package of toilet paper sitting on the bed and Castiel takes a seat beside it, not remarking on it. He sits on the edge of the bed and tries to think of how to tell this in a way that is .. objective, so that he doesn't make things worse. "Metatron paid me a visit."

He accepts the sweatpants and shirt and folds them neatly in his lap. "There are trials we can use in order to close heaven. I've already completed the first, but ... I don't know if I want to continue."

"...What happens when you close Heaven?"

There are a million questions to ask. What happens when they close Heaven? What happens when they shut the angels out of Earth? What happens when there's nothing left- is Cas going with them? What if he's shut out?

Dean swallows and gently picks up the magazine, the toilet paper and sets them aside, realizes he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he straightens up an already immaculately kept room.

"That angels will be shut inside, and I will remain here. With you." Because that's what Castiel wants more than anything. He wants to be by Dean's side and if that means he has to sacrifice his ability to go home to heaven, then he will make a new one here with the hunter and his brother.

"And you'll fall," Dean says.

It all clicks into place. Castiel is going to fall if he does these, because it'll shut the other angels out, it'll leave him behind, which is why he's falling now - if he's done the first one.

Goddamnit.

"What are the trials?"

"Yes." It is likely why he is beginning to heal so slowly, why he is already falling even as they speak. "I won't lie to you, the idea frightens me, however I can think of much worse fates, and if it means I can remain here with you and Sam then I think it will be well worth the sacrifice."

It's almost ideal in a way. A blank slate, a fresh start.

"There are other things I am more concerned with than falling. Such as yes, the trials. If the other two are anything like the first I ... I don't know that I can complete them. The first one felt immoral. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I am afraid that the price of closing heaven will come at too high a cost."

This is six different kinds of not okay, and it shows on his face as he stares at him, mute and unhappy and swallowing around the lump in his throat that he can't quite get rid of.

"Where the hell did you find out about the trials?" Dean asks hoarsely, and shifts to go around the room, flopping face-first on the bed again, still in his clothing from earlier, not bothering to take anything but his belt off, which ends up in a heap on the floor. "What are they? Shouldn't the ones to do Heaven not be-- y'know, immoral?"

"Metatron," Castiel says his face stiff and uncomfortable. He doesn't know that he trusts his strange reclusive brother. He had wanted to, so badly, but after what he had lead Castiel into doing ...

"I had thought at first that it would be alright, but hearing about the trials and then doing them ... the first trial was to kill a nephilim." Castiel looks down at his hand ashamed. "I was ... uncomfortable with it once I learned what we were meant to do but things happened fast and she attempted to kill Metatron."

Yeah, needing a drink is happening right about now. He's got a fifth of something dark and amber in his bag, and he steals it out of there, uncapping it and knocking back a healthy mouthful, passing it to Castiel after a moment of consideration.

"...Wait, those are real? The hell, dude, why d'you gotta gank one? Why's a trial for an angel about ganking something?"

Cas considers it but then shakes his head. No, he can't imagine that will be good for his body which is struggling to heal. "Not a giant like you might be imagining, I had not thought them real myself. In fact there was only one on earth, the offspring of a human and an angel."

That has been stuck in Castiel's mind ever since. He had known that his feelings for Dean were extremely frowned upon in heaven, but he had not considered the other implications of their relationship. That such a thing might have occurred between an angel and a human before. That the nephilim were more than myth.

"I don't know, I didn't write the tablet, Dean. In any case that was what the first trial was. I feel ... remorse. I ... Dean, I don't know if I can continue."

Yeah, probably not, but it's not like it's ever stopped Dean before. Still, he doesn't push, not right now. Instead, he curls up on the bed, stretches out his jean-clad legs, and closes his eyes a moment.

"...So don't," Dean says simply, and his eyes are slitted, half open, watching Cas quietly as he swirls the whiskey in the bottle. "Free will, Cas."

Besides, if Cas is second guessing it, well, Dean'll take that and be grateful because there hasn't been a whole hell of a lot of that recently.

Cas slides over and pushes himself into a position where he is sitting up, but leaning against the headboard so he can see Dean more easily while they talk without twisting himself into an uncomfortable position.

"I know that, but I'm afraid of the consequences of not shutting it down. Heaven has become so great a danger. To itself, to mankind. I know it's my fault, I also know that ... despite my desire to atone and correct it, I'm not the right person to fix it. But something has to be done."

Dean shifts until he's propped up enough to see Castiel's face while he's drinking. This-- well, it's better than how they were before, even if that was mostly his fault for behaving that way. He didn't take it back, of course - still thought that it was the right thing to do right then.

"...So you let someone else do it. Someone else do the trials." Dean glances over at him, knocks back another mouthful and feels it burn its way down. "Or you don't do 'em at all and let Heaven sort its shit out 'cause you're not their mom."

"I'm not sure there is anyone else, and I'm afraid to let heaven have free reign wherever it likes." He doesn't like it though at all. Castiel has grown so tired in recent years, and there never seems to be a way out.

"Is what I want so wrong?" He asks looking over at Dean with a small frown. "To do what you do? Save people? To be a hunter?"

Then again, there may be no one else just because if that were the only half human, half angel lovechild, then they might just be shit out of luck. Dean frowns a little more, and sips at his whiskey for the time being, going a little slower.

"...What? I never said it was wrong."

"I don't mean you. I mean heaven. Everyone up there seems to have their opinion on what I should or shouldn't be doing and they're willing to force me to toe the line if need be." He sighs and looks at Dean a bit wistfully. "When I said I wanted to be a hunter, I truly meant it. When I'm with you and Sam I'm happy, I feel like I'm doing something good, something worthwhile. And I'm happy here."

"Cas," Dean exhales the angel's name and half-laughs at that, because it's just so absurd to him, even now, that someone would want to fall like that, after how horrible it is. Then again, it's not like this is that much better, being jerked hither and yon.

Dean shifts, rolls onto his back and stretches out, taking a long drink, his feet starting to tingle, finally, god. "I don't want you to fall, man. That's the last thing I want."

"Why would that be such a terrible thing?" Because really, being an angel? It was wonderful when he had thought he had purpose, when he had believed in the stories he was being spoon fed about doing his father's work. Since then, since learning the lies it felt like something shameful. Like he was only a few steps above being an angel. Being a human though? Having the ability to feel all those precious emotions in full force, to be able to truly have the gift of free will. "I've considered before that ... it's what I think I want."

"You used to want to fix it up there, Cas," Dean doesn't try to sound accusing, but it's close. It's really, really close and Dean is rather gracefully working his way to drunk as he tips his head back and swallows yet another mouthful, and then eases out onto the bed after it's capped, loose-limbed, able to shove down the thoughts of the twelve hours, and focuses on the way he feels warm and tired and lazy for a few minutes. "Why can't you be both. Angel with all the fun human parts, huh? You were gettin' there."

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

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