Create the Light Part 1

[mayalaen]

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Part 4 | Epilogue

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"Hey, Cas, I'm...," Dean started as he walked in the front door, then he shut his mouth when he realized Cas was conked out on the couch.

Dean sighed, coming to a stop in the middle of the living room. He missed spending time with Cas, but Cas had been staying at the university later and later every night. Cas' fingers twitched in his sleep, his socks and shoes forgotten on the floor, and his tie was shoved halfway under the couch, his jacket draped over the arm of the couch only because Cas didn't like to iron. He still had his slacks and undershirt on, and his neck was at an odd angle.

After shaking his head, a sad smile on his face, Dean walked into the kitchen and started to quietly clean up. It was obvious Cas hadn't made anything for dinner, must've brought a sandwich home because there was a plate with sesame seeds all over it.

Cas hated sesame seeds, but he loved sesame seed bread, which meant lots of seeds left over whenever Cas came home with his favorite sandwich from the deli a block away from the university.

Dean washed up the few plates and cups that were in the sink, then left them to dry on the rack before he headed to bed. His shirt had a few holes in it because a patient at the hospital had gotten a little too freaked out by the series of shots needed to combat the possible rabies from the dog she'd encountered. There was no blood on his shirt, but it still wasn't presentable anymore.

He sighed as he pulled the shirt off. He'd need to stop at the store and pick up another package or two of light blue T-shirts. He ran out of them quickly. Most people didn't think twice about yanking and scratching when they were upset over injuries. It was part of the job, though, and Dean liked his job.

Dean smirked as he thought about the many times he'd sewn Sam up. Even when the kid was only a teenager, he was able to control himself better than a lot of the adults he helped hold down on a daily basis in the emergency room.

His phone vibrated, and when Dean checked it, there was a message from Sam, inviting them to dinner the next Sunday. Dean wanted to see Sam, wanted to see the kids, but it was hard to sit at the table and act like nothing was wrong. Sam was going to realize something was up, most likely sooner rather than later.

*

Cas was gone before Dean even had his first cup of coffee the next morning. He'd left his dirty clothes in the bathroom, so Dean picked them up and threw them in the hamper.

Cas had been a human for about nine years, but he still struggled with some of the day-to-day stuff. Not that he didn't care. Rather he just didn't think of those things. Humans grew up learning to take care of all the tedious shit on a daily basis, but for Cas, everything was new.

Dean nuked a frozen breakfast sandwich in the microwave, then headed out the door with his last good blue shirt and his travel mug full of hot coffee. The breakfast sandwiches were usually rubbery, but they filled his stomach and gave him the energy he needed to deal with patients.

"Morning," Dean said as he walked through the ER.

"Hey," Rachel said, waving and giving him a flirtatious smile, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Where am I headed, Rach?" Dean asked, ignoring her over-the-top attempts to catch his eye. She did it on a daily basis even though she knew he was married. To a man, no less.

"Station three," Rachel said, not backing down a bit. She never did. "Needs a cleanup."

Dean nodded, then headed for the break room, setting his stuff down and finishing off his coffee before gearing up and cleaning the gore he found in station three. He knew too much to just be an orderly, but he didn't have any degrees. Documents were easy enough to find, allowing him to walk into the ER years ago, where they practically handed him the job.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean said as he walked through the curtain.

"Are you a doctor?" the little boy on the gurney asked, eyes wide and red-rimmed, clinging to his mom, who looked slightly frazzled, but not all that worried. The boy looked to be only around four or five, the deep cut on his chin sluggishly bleeding.

"Nope, I'm not a doctor," Dean said, smiling at both the boy and his mom. "See this right here?" he said as he pointed to his name tag.

"Uh-huh," the boy said, nodding, his dark black hair falling into his eyes.

"Those two letters there, NP," he said, pointing them out, "mean that I didn't have to go to school as long as a doctor. I got let out early because I was too awesome. So now I get to do a lot of the cool stuff doctors do, but I don't get as much money as they do."

The boy frowned. "If you can do a bunch of stuff, why won't they give you more money?" The expression on his face was so much like his mother's that Dean's chest ached a bit. The family resemblance was striking.

Dean opened a drawer and pulled out some gauze, antiseptic, skin glue, and some paper tape. "Because I have more fun than they do," Dean said. "Did you ever notice how doctors sometimes look grumpy?"

"Yeah!" the boy said, eyes wide. "My doctor has lines right here," he said, scowling and pointing at his own forehead.

Dean grinned. "They're grumpy because they have to work all day long and sometimes at night too," Dean said as he set the supplies on the gurney and grabbed some gloves. "I work during the day, having fun with kids like you, and then I get to go home at night and watch movies and eat popcorn."

"Your job sounds like more fun," the boy said.

"It is," Dean said, nodding. "I like helping people. I like fixing owies."

"I hurt my chin," the boy said, pointing at his bloody face.

"I see that," Dean said. "Well, I can help you out with that. You ready?"

"Do I have'ta get a shot?" the boy asked, leaning toward his mother just a little more.

"Did you fall on something icky?" Dean asked, glancing at the mother.

The mother ran her fingers through the boy's hair. "The corner of our kitchen table. He was goofing around."

Dean chuckled. "I've done that. See right here?" he asked as he pointed toward a tiny scar on his chin. "I was about your age when I did the same thing." It was a lie, but the boy's eyes lit up and he giggled. The kid didn't need to know what sort of creature gave Dean that scar.

"So I don't need a shot?" he asked.

"Nope," Dean said. "I'm just gonna clean it up with this wipe, and then I'm going to put some stuff on there that's kinda like clear jelly. It'll cover over the owie so your body can have some time to heal all by itself."

"Mom said I need stretches," the boy said, frowning.

"Stitches, honey," the mom said.

"Stitches," the boy said to Dean.

"Well, Mom didn't know I have this really cool jelly stuff," he said, holding up the tube. "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah!" the boy said, smiling and relieved now that shots and stitches weren't in his future.

"All right, I need you to hold real still for me," Dean said. "If it hurts, just kick me in the leg and I'll be more careful, okay?"

"No!" Mom said. "Don't kick the doctor, sweetie."

"He's not a doctor," the boy said, pointing at Dean's name tag.

"It's okay," Dean said, winking at the mom. "I tell everybody to kick me if I hurt them. It's only fair, right?"

"Oh," the mom said, lips stuck in that O shape for a moment. "Well, okay."

"But don't kick me unless I hurt you," Dean warned. "If you kick me just because you want to, then I won't know when you really mean it."

"I won't, I promise," the boy said.

"Okay, ready?" Dean asked.

"Uh-huh," the boy said, tilting his head back.

*

It was a long day. Whenever kids came in, Dean was the first one they'd call over to help. He was great with them, and kids responded to him, liked him. But it also meant Dean had to watch when kids cried, when they couldn't understand why something was happening to them, and sometimes when there was nothing else he could do but hold them and help the family say goodbye.

Dean tossed his last shirt into the haz-mat bin, taking a cleansing breath as he walked into the break room, pulling on a scrub shirt. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but Dean couldn't walk around with that little girl's blood on him any longer.

"You okay, Winchester?" someone asked.

Dean looked up from his seat at the table. "Yeah," he said to the intern. He couldn't remember the guy's name. The intern had been there for almost a month, yet Dean just couldn't remember his name.

"Was it a kid?" Intern asked.

Dean grimaced. "Yeah. It happens."

"Sorry," Intern said, then gave him a pat on the shoulder on the way out.

Dean picked at his microwaved burrito, but didn't really eat much of it. He ended up throwing most of it out before going back to the emergency room. Minutes later he was covered in vomit.

*

Dean had picked up sandwiches from the shop that Cas loved. A ham and swiss on a sesame seed bun with extra pickles and mayo for Cas and a roast beef for himself. Cas' car wasn't in the driveway and the lights were off, so Dean ate his sandwich in front of the television and left Cas' sandwich on the table.

He woke up in the middle of the night when Cas climbed into bed, but instead of wrapping his arms around Cas and falling asleep in a tangled mess with the love of his life, he pretended to be asleep.

Dean stayed awake for a while, listening to the sounds of Cas sleeping. It was still hard to wrap his head around the fact that Cas was human even though it had been years. For the first year or two, Dean would lie awake at night and watch Cas' chest moving up and down, the small breaths of someone deeply asleep. It comforted him, and it also lulled him to sleep.

Soon enough, the sounds had him out like a light. It was always easier to sleep when Cas was with him. No matter what was happening to their relationship.

*

"The salad is delicious," Cas said, smiling as he poked at the cranberries and feta cheese on top of spring greens.

"Thanks," Becca said, then nodded to Sam. "He loves when I add cranberries to my salads."

"I don't like the white stuff," Bobby said with a frown as he picked each piece of cheese off his plate and set it on the napkin by his mom's left hand.

Dean chuckled, still amazed that Bobby looked nothing like Becca or Sam. Instead he looked so much like Becca's brother Zach that Dean still teased Sam about it even though the kid was seven.

"Just leave it on the napkin, sweetie," Becca said.

"I like deez," Jenna said, mouth full of cranberries and scowling, the expression on her face so much like Sam's at that age Dean's breath caught in his chest. Even at two and a half years old, she appeared to be the perfect mix of both her mom and dad, and Dean could see some of the best parts of both of them in her.

"That looks like blood," Bobby said, pointing at the cranberry juice dripping from Jenna's chin.

"Wipe your face, kid," Sam said, smiling as he handed his daughter a napkin.

It was all so domestic that Dean sometimes felt like his head was spinning. They'd spent so much of their lives on the road, in danger, trying to stop or at least delay the end of the world that even nine years after all of it stopped, as if someone pulled the plug on everything supernatural, he still couldn't believe it sometimes, still couldn't completely settle down into this life.

Not that he hated it. It was a world where people still faced disease, natural disasters, and other humans, but nothing supernatural existed anymore. Including Castiel's grace. It had all disappeared after The Darkness swept over the Earth, taking everything unnatural with it and floating off into space.

It had been anticlimactic after everything they'd been through, and Dean was happy that all those things most people never knew were out there, well, now they really weren't out there anymore. It was hard to get used to even if Dean liked the benefits, such as Sam having that life he'd wanted for so long.

"Uncle Dean?" Bobby said, dark brown eyes so different from Sam and Becca's.

"Yeah?"

"Will you help me with my school project?" Bobby asked, using the one thing he did inherit from Sam: the Puppy Eyes of Doom. It had nothing to do with color and everything to do with a charming personality.

"Sure," Dean said. "After dinner we'll get to it."

"I have papers to grade," Cas said, turning to Dean with a concerned look on his face.

Dean looked to Bobby, then back at Cas. "Can't it wait?"

"It's going to take me hours," Cas said. "I have an early class, so I can't be up all night."

"I'll take you home," Sam said to Dean. "Cas can take the car home and start on his papers."

Dean gave Sam a smile. "Thanks, Sammy," he said.

Cas nodded. "Thank you, Sam."

"So what's your school project?" Dean asked.

Bobby took in a big lungful of air, ready to explain the whole thing. Dean couldn't have loved his niece and nephew more than he already did, and he was excited to help the kid with his project.

*

They'd worked on the guy for three hours, but they'd still lost him. Dean was used to death. He'd experienced enough of it over the years, but what he wasn't used to was dealing with the family left behind, the people mourning. That was something new to him.

Of course he'd seen some of it when creatures had taken someone and he hadn't been able to save them years ago, but most of the time Dean didn't even stick around for notifying the family. He couldn't. Too busy running from the authorities, who would've thrown his ass in jail for saving people.

The emergency room was different. He loved his job. It made him feel as if he was still hunting things and saving people, even if the hunting was helping to find out what was wrong with someone. But when he had to notify a woman and her children that their husband and father wouldn't be going home with them ever again, it was hard.

He changed at the hospital, showering the gore from his skin and getting into jeans and a clean T-shirt. As he drove home, the scene played over and over in his head.

When he was hunting, he pushed all thoughts of 'what if' out of his mind. If he would have let himself dwell on how he could have done things differently, he never would have been able to survive. It was one of the things his dad had taught him. It wasn't callousness. It was moving on so other people could be saved when there was nothing else he could do for the victims. Otherwise, that lifestyle would eat a person alive.

But it was harder to do that when the families stood there crying and asking him why. Why did Daddy have to die? Why couldn't he just fix Daddy? It was heartbreaking, and sometimes he let it get to him.

He pulled into the driveway, sighing when he saw Cas' car. He wanted to hold someone. Someone alive and familiar. When he walked into their home, he saw the light on in the bedroom, so he headed there, stripping once he got into their room.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said.

"Oh, hi," Cas said, looking up from his papers as he sat against the headboard of the bed.

Cas had started wearing glasses about two years after he became human. Dean thought it was really sexy, especially when they fell to the end of his nose while he was concentrating. Cas was clueless as to why Dean thought they were hot.

Dean climbed into bed in his boxers, then wrapped his left arm around Cas' middle, resting his head on Cas' lap. He didn't say anything, and when Cas' free hand came to rest on his head, everything felt right in the world. Cas gently scrubbed at his scalp while he finished reading his papers, and soon Dean was asleep.

*

Dean hadn't seen Cas in three days. He knew Cas had been home because of the clothes on the bathroom floor, the dirty dishes in the sink, and the clean laundry folded on the dresser, but they'd missed each other, so Dean stopped by the sandwich shop and picked up Cas' favorite, then headed for the university.

He walked across campus with the bag of sandwiches in one hand and a couple of cans of soda in the other. He walked down the hallways and found Cas' office, but froze just outside the door.

"Thanks for the extra credit, Mr. Winchester," a really fucking hot chick said as she got up in Cas' personal space. She was blonde, perky, and wearing barely enough clothing to be considered acceptable for campus rules.

Dean's eyes widened as Cas didn't push her away, didn't stiffen like he normally did when anyone but Dean touched him. Instead he let her put a hand on his left forearm, a flirtatious touch that could get Cas in trouble with the university.

"You earned it, Chelsea," Cas said with a nod.

Dean had the perfect vantage point to see Cas' profile. He could see the way Cas was smiling at her. It was a smile that said he was comfortable with her, that she had done a good job, and that he was proud of her. It was a look Dean hadn't been on the receiving end of in a long time. A look that he thought Cas had reserved only for people with the last name of Winchester.

"So can we meet up at the library again this week?" Chelsea asked, shoving her breasts forward. "I've got this really hard paper I need to write for Professor Collier, and even though it's not your specialty, I just know you could help me with it."

Cas smiled. "I could meet you Tuesday after class."

Chelsea giggled. "Thank you, Mr. Winchester," she said, leaning closer. "You have no idea how much trouble I'd be in if you hadn't helped me. You make learning so much fun."

She was laying it on so thick that Dean almost gagged. That was his husband she was touching. That was his husband she was flirting with. That was his husband she was probably fucking.

Dean turned and walked away. He'd imagined scenarios like that in the past with other lovers, but never with Cas. He never dreamed Cas had it in him. But in the past, when Dean had let his imagination run wild with Lisa or Cassie, he'd always seen himself as devastated, as if his world had come to an end, and he thought he'd feel a deep sense of betrayal.

He didn't feel that way. And he knew why. He and Cas had been drifting apart for months now. He hadn't noticed it at first, but just a month ago it became something obvious. They were living as separately as two people who lived under the same roof could.

It hurt. It hurt really fucking badly. But seeing Cas and Chelsea wasn't the surprise Dean had thought it would be. He knew the blame wasn't all on Cas. He'd pushed Cas away too.

The apple pie life was hard for Dean to sink into. He loved his job, and it gave him a purpose, a chance to use all the skills he'd acquired patching up his family and fellow hunters after they'd been injured. Dean knew what he was doing at the hospital, was confident in his abilities to not only perform well, but to make people feel good about the care they'd received.

Everything outside the hospital was a different story. It was a struggle, and Dean felt as if he was out of his element, like he wasn't doing normal right. That kind of life wasn't something he had experienced since he was four years old, and he was a completely different person than that little boy who had a mom to tuck him in at night.

It was hard trying to smash himself into the mold of happiness, contentment, a lack of danger, neighbors who invited them to barbecues, and nothing looming in the distance. Nothing to keep his mind off the fact that he didn't know how to live the normal life.

Dean knew he was fucked in the head. Any normal person would have been wrapping his life around themselves like it was made of pure gold. But it was smothering him, and even though Cas wasn't part of what was weighing him down, he'd taken it out on Cas by becoming cold and distant.

Sure, they'd been in love. They'd gotten married after everything was over, when they knew they could settle down, when they'd realized just how much they meant to each other, when Sam had hit them both over the head with a figurative two-by-four and said they were the only ones who couldn't see how in love they were, that they needed to take that leap into marriage.

And even though Dean still loved Cas, loved him so much it hurt, he didn't feel like he was in love with him anymore.

Cas didn't deserve that. He'd done so much for the world. He'd given up so much. To love Dean was a waste of his time and his devotion.

Dean drove to the beach and ate both sandwiches on the hood of the car. When the stars came out and the chill of night made him shiver, he realized he'd come to a decision. They couldn't live like this anymore.

It wasn't fair to either one of them. They weren't in love anymore. He knew Cas loved him, and he loved Cas, so Dean knew how he had to approach this. He had to end it. Anything else left room open for Cas to insist they were still in love when they really weren't.

The easiest thing was to rip off the band-aid and tell him they were getting a divorce. No blaming. No fights or talks about working it out. They needed to move on.

*

Dean left a note on the kitchen table, letting Cas know that they needed to talk, that even if Dean was asleep, to wake him up. That it was important. He didn't end up falling asleep, and sometime around three in the morning Cas finally got home.

"Dean?" Cas said from the doorway.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said as he sat up, throwing the covers off and scooting back until he was resting against the headboard.

"Is something wrong?" Cas asked, a hint of concern in his tone of voice, in the set of his mouth.

"Have a seat," Dean said, patting Cas' side of the bed.

Cas didn't bother kicking his shoes off or taking his jacket off. He crawled onto the bed and sat down right where Dean had told him to. He looked tired and his suit jacket was wrinkled.

"We need to talk," Dean said.

"Okay," Cas said with a nod.

Dean had expected it to be hard. He had known it would hurt. But the heaviness, the way his chest ached just looking at the man in front of him, well, that was unexpected. He'd fallen in love with Cas, he'd do anything for him, and to realize that they'd failed, that they hadn't loved each other enough to make it work was tearing him apart. He thought he'd worked it all out in his head while sitting on the hood of his car.

"Things have been a little strange for a while now," Dean said, and then held up a hand when Cas opened his mouth, ready to ask what was strange. Cas closed his mouth again. "Us," Dean said gently. "This just isn't working. We've grown apart, and we need to quit before we end up hating each other."

Cas physically flinched as the words filtered through his head. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but then just tilted his head, his eyes welling up with tears.

It hurt so fucking much to know that he was doing this to Cas. He wanted to hold him, to tell him it was a stupid joke, that everything was fine. But it wasn't fine. It hadn't been for a while. Whether Cas was fucking Chelsea or not, Cas had been clueless to what was happening between them.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean said. "I care about you. I really do. But I'm just not in love with you anymore."

Cas' breath hitched and a tear ran down his left cheek. "Why?" he asked, voice cracking.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean said, letting out a huff. "You didn't notice anything was wrong? You didn't notice that we never do anything together? We barely even see each other? Can you even remember the last time we had sex? How long it's been?"

"I've been busy," Cas said softly.

"I know," Dean said, then gave Cas a little smile. "I don't think either one of us is to blame for this. It just happened. You deserve to be with someone who shares your interests. Someone you want to spend time with."

"I want to spend time with you," Cas whispered.

"Actions speak louder than words," Dean said. "And I think it's obvious neither one of us makes time for the other."

"Do you want me to leave?" Cas asked as if it was torture just to say the words.

The ache in Dean's chest got so much worse that he winced. "No," he said, shaking his head. "You can keep the house. I'll find an apartment near the hospital."

"You're leaving right now?" Cas asked, eyes widening, his body leaning closer to Dean ever so slightly, as if he wanted to grab onto him in case Dean was planning on running away.

"No, I'll sleep on the couch tonight," Dean said. "I'll start looking for a place tomorrow."

"Okay," Cas said, looking down at the blanket he was clutching hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean said, but Cas didn't look up at him, so he climbed off the bed, taking his pillow with him.

He didn't sleep much, and around six in the morning he walked down the hallway to check on Cas, staring at him for a moment. Cas had fallen asleep in his clothes, arms wrapped around his pillow in an odd position, shoes still on his feet. Dean grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the hospital. He could use the showers and change there.

*

Dean's phone was blinking when he grabbed it from his locker later that day. He expected something from Cas, maybe more apologies or questions, but it was from Sam. Just a quick 'call me' message.

"Dean?" Sam answered.

"Hey," Dean said, wondering if Cas had called Sam.

"Hey, you guys wanna come over for dinner this Saturday night?" Sam asked. "Becca's been bugging me to teach her how to cook Cas' favorite dish, so she wants to try that out."

"Uhm, no," Dean said.

"No?" Sam said, confused tone to his voice. Dean and Cas never turned down an invitation for Becca or Sam's cooking. "You guys busy?"

"Well, I can come," Dean said. "But Cas won't be coming."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't know what to say. His mouth felt dry, and it was as if someone had ripped all the words right out of his head.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked when Dean hesitated.

Dean rubbed his free hand over the back of his neck. "Me and Cas are done. I'm looking for an apartment after I get off work this afternoon."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "What?!" he asked, shocked. "What happened?"

"I'm standing in the middle of the locker room," Dean said, feeling drained and raw. "I'll call you later tonight."

"You can stay with us for a while," Sam said. "Just crash on our couch until you work things out."

"I'll talk to you later, Sam," Dean said, then hung up on his brother. He didn't feel like explaining to Sam that this wasn't something they could work out. That it was over.

*

He hadn't been able to find an apartment. He had the money, he had the good credit, but there just wasn't anything available near the hospital. And he was tired. So he headed back to the house. Cas' car wasn't in the driveway, and Dean let out a sigh of relief.

Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch, not really watching TV, but he just needed something to blindly stare at. His phone vibrated, and again he expected a text from Cas.

Sam: He's here. Gonna spend the night. You okay?

Dean felt something in his chest let go. He'd been worried about Cas, but now that he knew Cas was with Sam and Becca, he wasn't as concerned.

Dean: Thanks. I'm fine.

Sam: Any time you wanna talk, call or text me. I can meet you somewhere or come over to the house. Any time.

Dean: G'night.

Sam: Night.

Dean stretched out on the couch, setting the beer down on the coffee table. He hadn't finished it, but his stomach was hurting, so he just flipped through the channels until he found something boring enough to fall asleep to.

*

Dean groaned as he opened his eyes, his phone ringing somewhere near his head. He grabbed it and swiped to answer the call.

"Hello?" Dean said, voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

"You comin' in today?"

Dean frowned, then sat up so quickly he made himself dizzy. "Shit, I'm sorry," he said. "I overslept. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Whoa," Dr. Jessup said. "Calm down and don't get yourself into an accident on the way here. You've never been late before. This is just a courtesy call because Ray's asking where you are."

Dean hadn't realized until then that it was odd one of the doctors was calling him instead of the staff coordinator, Ray. "Oh, okay. Thanks. I really am sorry."

"It's okay," Dr. Jessup said with a chuckle. "I recognized the look on your face over the last few days. Had it myself a few years back when Mrs. Jessup decided she'd much rather be with her old high school sweetheart than me. I already covered for you. If Ray asks, you were picking up my dry cleaning."

"Oh," Dean said, eyes widening. Had he really looked that bad? "Thank you."

"No problem," Dr. Jessup said. "See you in a few minutes."

Dr. Jessup hung up, and Dean pushed himself off the couch. He felt silly for having worn his heart on his sleeve for the past few days. Dr. Jessup and he worked closely together, so it wasn't a stretch that the very observant and friendly doctor had noticed he was hurting, but it was still shocking to know that others could see it.

Within just ten minutes Dean was dressed in clean clothes and heading out the door. He stopped by the coffee shop across the street from the hospital, getting both himself and Dr. Jessup coffees, making sure to get Dr. Jessup's just the way he liked it as a thank you.

*

Dean hadn't expected Cas to know what to do about the divorce. He didn't even know himself really. He'd asked Sam, and surprisingly enough Sam hadn't fought him on it, hadn't drawn things out or claimed it would take weeks to get the papers.

So Dean sat on the couch in his living room, the one he'd shared with Cas for seven years, in the house he'd lived in with his husband. The papers were sitting on the coffee table. He'd already filled out most of what he could, but he needed Cas for the rest of it. Then they both needed to sign them.

Cas finally walked in the door a half hour later. "Sorry I'm late," he said as he set his briefcase down by the door and took his coat off. "Jess asked me to pick up some groceries for dinner tonight."

Dean's eyes widened. "Dude, careful with the name mix-ups around Becca. She knows about Jess."

Cas tilted his head, confused expression on his face, then he shook his head. "Sorry. I'm tired," he said as he took a seat on the couch.

Dean almost moved away, Cas having sat so close that Dean could feel the warmth. Even after all this time, Cas didn't really get the personal space thing. Usually Dean didn't mind.

"Are those the papers?" Cas asked, nearly glaring at the papers on the coffee table.

"Yeah," Dean said as he picked up the stack and handed them to Cas. "I filled out what I could. The rest is all you."

Cas slowly looked through the papers, studying each one individually. Dean wondered if his eyes were getting strained without his glasses, but Cas didn't mention it. When Cas got to the last page, Dean handed him a pen.

Instead of taking it, Cas just stared at the pen as if he'd never seen one before. And then he looked up at Dean. "I don't want to do this," he said, voice cracking.

Dean tried to stay strong. This was going to be a good thing. It was the best option. It would hurt, but they'd both recover. They'd both look back on this one day and realize it was the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, letting the stack of papers drop down onto his lap. "I don't really understand why we have to get a divorce."

"Cas, we talked about it," Dean said.

"No," Cas said. "You told me you weren't in love with me anymore, that we barely ever saw each other, but we didn't talk about it. You didn't give me a chance to work on anything or change my habits."

Dean knew they were Sam's words and not Cas', but he also knew that Cas really meant it.

"I still love you," Cas said. "I still feel like I'm in love with you."

Dean didn't want to hurt Cas any more than he already had, but he had to get through to him. "Is that why you're never here? Because you're so in love with me?"

"I'm busy," Cas said, "but that doesn't mean I want to be at the university all the time."

"They really like you," Dean said. "If you wanted a lighter workload, they'd let you have it. And between the two of us we make more than enough to live on, but the both of us work more than we really need to. That says to me we don't really want to come home."

"I do want to be home," Cas said, a little desperate. "I enjoy being with you."

"Cas, it's not just you," Dean said, wiping his palms on his jeans. "We both let this happen."

"Then we can stop it," Cas said, voice stronger. "I don't want to sign these papers," he said as he held the papers up. "Sam told me it's not over until I sign the papers, and I'm not signing them."

"Don't drag this out," Dean said, a little irritated. "It's only prolonging the inevitable."

Cas shook his head. "Sam said I should make you tell me how I can fix this."

"Fuck Sam," Dean said bluntly.

Cas' eyes widened. "What?!"

"He thinks we're going to work this out," Dean said, letting out a huff of not-so-funny laughter. "That we'll talk it out and everything will be okay. But I saw you. I saw you with your student. That cute little thing that wanted extra credit? You're fucking her."

Cas shook his head. "No! I'm not! I never touched her!"

"Does she give better head than me, Cas?" Dean asked, knowing he was going in for the kill and not giving a shit.

"I've never fucked her!" Cas said, wincing as if even the thought was horrible.

"How many of those students have you fucked?" Dean asked.

Cas' eyes welled up with tears, his cheeks turning pink. "I haven't been doing anything inappropriate with the students. I've been working overtime because your birthday is in two weeks and I was going to take you to a bed and breakfast in Oregon."

"What?" Dean asked, face screwed up in confusion.

"That bed and breakfast you saw on TV," Cas said. "It's expensive, and it's a long drive up the coast, so I already asked for three weeks off from the university and three weeks off from the hospital. I cleared it with Ray. It's not paid time off, so I knew we'd need money for everything I wanted to do with you on the vacation and also our bills. I took on an extra class and I'm tutoring some students for money."

Dean snorted. "You think I'd want to go to a bed and breakfast with you?" he asked.

Cas frowned. "You don't?"

"No!" Dean said. "I'm so fucking tired of living with you, so tired of this whole thing that I can't wait for you to sign those papers. I can't wait until I can get my shit outta this house and never see you again!"

It was as if Dean had flipped a switch. Cas was fighting for them one second, and in the next second his body deflated and the determined expression on his face was gone, replaced by a blank stare.

Cas took the papers and pen from Dean and signed them. Less than two minutes later Cas was walking out the front door and out of Dean's life.

*

Dean showed up on time for dinner at Sam's house, but let out a growl when he saw Cas' car in the driveway. Sam hadn't said anything to Dean, but Dean knew his little brother was trying to get them back together.

It had been two months since the divorce had been finalized, but after Dean had moved out, he hadn't seen Cas again.

Instead of driving away, he went inside. If Sam and Cas were going to play with him like this, then he'd at least get a good meal out of it.

Cas' eyes got so wide when Dean walked in that Dean nearly laughed. Cas stood up from the kitchen table and held out his hands in surrender.

"I didn't know they invited you," he said. "I'm sorry."

Sam chuckled as he patted Cas' seat. "Sit back down, Cas. This is gonna be fun."

Cas shook his head. "No, I should go."

"Sit down," Becca said, her voice almost a growl as she grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked.

Cas sat down, looking bewildered and shocked. The kids were already eating, but Dean sat down next to Cas as he normally did.

"I thought it would be funny to see the two of you at the same table again," Sam said.

"And," Becca drawled, "we thought it would be a great time to let you know after this dinner you're not welcome here anymore."

Cas cringed in his seat. "I can leave now if you'd like."

"No, no," Sam said. "Finish your food. This is fuckin' funny!"

"Have you fucked any more students?" Dean asked, nudging him.

Cas looked over at the children, then back at Dean. "No, I never touched any of the students that way."

"Oh, c'mon, Cas," Dean said, elbowing him in the ribs. "I'm sure we'd all like to hear about everything you did with Chelsea. Did you fuck her right on your desk? Did you eat her out on the couch?"

"Did she let you fuck her in the ass?" Sam asked, giving him a wink.

Bobby laughed and pointed at Cas. "He likes fucking that stupid whore."

Cas looked down at his plate, curling in on himself as if the words were physically hurting him.

"Uncle Cas?" Jenna said.

Cas looked up at her, the expression on his face telling all of them that he really didn't want to know what the girl was going to say to him.

"Cas, wake up," Jenna said, only it wasn't a little girl's voice that came out of her mouth. "C'mon, buddy, wake up. Quit sleepin' on the job. C'mon. Open those baby blues."

Cas put his hands over his face, his head suddenly hurting so badly that he let out a moan of pain.

"I know it hurts, Cas, but you gotta wake up."

Cas knew that voice. It was Dean. It was the man he'd fallen for. The one he'd defied Heaven for. The one he'd pulled from Hell.

"C'mon," Dean said, "open your eyes."

Cas squinted as he obeyed Dean, but the light was bright and hurt. He groaned, trying to get away from the pain.

"Quit shining the light in his eyes, Sam," Dean said. "Okay, you can open your eyes now, Cas."

Cas forced himself to open his eyes again, and this time the light was soft and didn't hurt his eyes.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Cas took a quick look around, his stomach rebelling when he realized he was in a dilapidated house, the paint on the walls yellowed with age, the carpet disgusting and smelly beneath him, and the windows busted and letting in the cold night air.

"I think you got knocked out by that witch," Dean said, smirking.

Cas recognized that smirk. It was the one Dean used when he was trying to be funny to hide his concern.

"She got the drop on ya, huh?" Dean asked, patting his chest.

"Apparently she did," Cas said, letting Dean help him up. He felt dizzy for a moment, but Dean held on until he was steady on his feet.

Cas felt a strong sense of deja vu. He'd been in this house before. Years ago. No, it wasn't years ago. It only felt like that.

"You ready to get outta here?" Dean asked, staying close just in case.

"Yes," Cas replied.

Dean smiled, then gestured toward the door. "You first. I wanna make sure you don't pass out again."

Cas nodded, then started for the door. They walked outside and got into the Impala, Dean getting in the driver's seat. Cas couldn't speak. His head felt like it was going to explode, or maybe spin off his shoulders.

When he'd lost his grace, it had been devastating, and he'd never wanted it back as much as he did while Dean drove them back to the bunker. He couldn't control his emotions as a human, even though he'd just experienced about nine years as one.

Nine years. Though he knew they'd only been in that dilapidated house for less than an hour, his memory of those nine years seemed so vivid. His mind struggled with the discrepancy for a moment before the ugly truth forced its way to the surface.

It hadn't been real. Any of it. The life he'd shared with Dean, their marriage, Sam's idyllic life with Becca. None of it had actually happened. Whatever that witch had done to him, it had all been a dream or some sort of hallucination. The pain that realization caused was mind-numbing. His grace would have allowed him to compartmentalize all of it, shove it back into a place where it belonged, but being human, he found himself unable to let it go, even though it hurt. A disgustingly human reaction to pain.

Dean looked at him in the rearview mirror. "You okay, Cas?" he asked.

Cas wasn't okay at all, but he nodded. "I'm fine."

"You hungry?" Dean asked.

Cas thought of all the times Dean had asked that over the years, how many times he'd offered to make Cas something, and how great Dean's burgers off the grill could be.

He wanted one of them. He wanted Dean to make one for him. He wanted to sit with Dean on their couch and watch a stupid movie while the burger juice ran down his chin. He wanted Dean to turn to him and smile, giving him a hard time for the mess all over his face. He wanted Dean to insist on licking him clean.

"Cas?" Dean said, eyes wide in the rearview mirror. "You sure you're okay? Sammy, make sure he's okay," he said as he whacked Sam's arm.

Sam turned in the seat, his long legs knocking into the dashboard, but Dean didn't give him a hard time for it.

"Cas?" Sam said, leaning over the seat.

"I'm fine, Sam," Cas said.

Sam reached out and wiped at Cas' left cheek with his thumb. "You're crying," Sam whispered, eyes widening. "Cas, what's wrong?"

Cas pushed Sam's hand away and looked down at his lap. "My eyes are watering from the powder she threw in my face," he said. It was a lie. Something he'd gotten better at over the years.

That life may have been all in his head, but he'd still picked up some skills, become better at living as a human. And even though the Sam in his head would've called bullshit on his lie because he knew him better than that, this Sam didn't know Cas could lie without major tells. Oh, he still had small tells, but nothing this Sam could pick up on.

"Oh," Sam said, then turned and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a small bottle of holy water. "Here, use this to wash the powder out of your eyes," he said as he handed the bottle to Cas. "You should've said something."

"Sorry," Cas said as he took the bottle and tilted his head back, letting the water run over his closed eyelids, pretending to wash his eyes of the powder before he handed the bottle back to Sam. "Thank you."

"Burgers okay with you guys?" Dean asked.

Cas' chest ached. He really wanted Dean's burgers. And he knew Sam loved them too. "Yes, I'd like burgers," he said, falling back into a more formal speech pattern.

"Awesome," Dean said with a grin. "I found this little hole-in-the-wall diner a few days ago. I'll pick us up some greasy burgers and fries. You want a shake?"

Cas looked out the window. His Dean knew he liked chocolate shakes with lots of whipped cream on top. And a cherry. This Dean only knew Cas liked plain chocolate shakes, because Cas hadn't even discovered whipped cream and cherries were an option yet. It was a trivial thing, but it seemed like a big deal when his husband didn't even know it. Never did.

"Yes, please," Cas said.

*

None of his favorite clothes were in the bunker. He'd become accustomed to the clothes Dean picked out for him.

Just a few weeks after the apocalypse that wasn't, Dean had insisted on a shopping spree, had helped Cas try on so many clothes that Sam had fallen asleep on a chair in the mall. But Dean wanted to make sure Cas tried them all out to see what he'd like wearing.

He didn't have those clothes anymore. He never did. He'd have to find them again, and he didn't even know if those brands existed because he'd never paid attention before. Maybe it was all in his head.

Cas tried to distract himself. He went to the library in the bunker, grabbed three random books, and sat down at the table. His slacks were itchy and stiff, the boxers were too loose, and he never did like the shoes. They hurt his toes. Something he didn't have to deal with when he was an angel and something he didn't know he could avoid as a human until Dean got him boots.

He kicked his shoes off under the table and started skimming the first book. It was boring, and soon enough the ancient rituals of Kurgans blurred and he was thinking about what he'd be doing if he wasn't stuck where he was. If he was still living that life he'd loved.

It had only been five days since he'd been slapped in the face with reality, and he knew that, because it was six o'clock, Dean would have been home already, that if he were to get off work early and go home, Dean would've smiled, asked him how his day had been, and they would have figured out something for dinner together.

They would have watched a movie or gone for a drive. Maybe Dean would have taken him to an ice cream shop. Cas had developed a love for ice cream that Dean got a kick out of, so he liked finding new places to take Cas so they could try out different flavors and toppings.

Cas remembered when Dean found Full Tilt Ice Cream Shop. They had all-natural ingredients and came up with all sorts of stuff to put into and on top of ice cream. Dean had gotten Cas the biggest ice cream cone Cas had ever seen, covered in sprinkles with a drizzling of chocolate that hardened into a crust around the ice cream.

The cone had been perfect, and the ice cream had been the best Cas had ever tasted. He'd dropped a piece of the chocolate shell on his shirt, and he hadn't noticed until it melted, so Dean had sucked his shirt clean in the car.

That was before they'd both started working so much. Back when they spent more time together. Cas shouldn't have allowed that to happen. He should have told Dean why he was working overtime. He'd wanted it to be a surprise, but it had cost him his marriage.

"Found a case?" Sam asked.

Cas let out a noise somewhere between a war cry and a squeak. Maybe even both. Sam smirked at him.

"Sorry," Sam said, but the apology didn't hold much weight with that little smirk on his face. He took a swig out of the tumbler in his right hand, wincing at the taste.

"No, I didn't find a case," Cas said, shoving the book away from him. He felt a little bad for Sam. After all, Cas was the one who'd concocted the foul-smelling drink Sam was currently ingesting. Sam may not have liked the taste of it, but the shake was working to heal all his ailments from the Trials just a few short weeks ago. "I was just doing some reading."

Sam sat down across the table from Cas. "Kurgans, huh?" he said, nodding at the book as he set the tumbler down.

Cas shrugged. "Just felt like reading." He knew it was selfish on his part to give Sam the miracle cure, but knowing what they'd gone through the first time, the betrayal Sam had felt and the huge rift it had caused between the brothers, Cas couldn't bear to put them through that again. He couldn't just sit by and watch Dean slowly die inside once Sam realized what he'd done.

Sam had a funny look on his face, and it wasn't until Cas thought about it that he realized he was being more casual than his old self would've been. It must've looked strange to Sam.

"Are you doing all right, Cas?" Sam asked, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table.

"I'm just tired," Cas lied. Again, his Sam would never have fallen for it.

"Been tired ever since that witch had a go at you," Sam said, nonchalant in a way that Cas knew meant Sam wasn't buying the whole tired thing.

"It was a little upsetting," Cas said. "I've had a few nightmares, so I haven't been sleeping well."

Sam nodded, looking down at the table. Cas knew Sam well enough to realize the guy wouldn't let this go. Sam had to know something was up, and Sam was going to get to the bottom of it.

"Did she do anything to you other than the powder?" Sam asked, looking him in the eye.

"She hit me," Cas said.

Sam winced. "Yeah, other than that. I saw the bruise, by the way. That still hurt?"

Cas shook his head. "Not anymore," he said, and he wasn't lying. She'd used a two by four on his upper back, but it had only hurt for the first two days.

"You having trouble with the fact that you're human and she got the jump on you?" Sam asked, concerned.

Cas nodded. "That never would've happened otherwise." It was true even if it wasn't what was really bothering him.

Sam gave him a reassuring smile. "Well, you've seen, over the years, that being human doesn't mean you're helpless. You've seen what Dean and I have been able to accomplish."

Cas smiled back at him. "You're right, Sam. Thank you," he said, then stood up and walked way.

His Sam would have followed him.

*

"You hungry?"

Cas flinched so hard he dropped the glass he was holding, the floor in the kitchen ensuring the glass shattered into millions of pieces that went everywhere.

"Sorry," Dean said, wincing as he walked up to Cas, glass crunching beneath his boots. "Lemme help you clean that up."

"I'll get it," Cas said as he walked to the pantry and pulled out the broom and dustpan.

"So are you hungry?" Dean asked again.

Cas' chest ached. He wanted Dean to cook for him. It had become a comfort when his husband had taken the time to cook for him, to find out what Cas liked and didn't like, and the little things Dean would do to make him realize Dean thought the world of him. It was no shocker that Dean had a hard time saying how he felt, but Cas had quickly learned that Dean more than made up for it in the little things he did.

He missed his husband so much it hurt. Sure, they had been going through rough times, but most of the last few years he had experienced were full of contentment with Dean.

"I'd really like a cheeseburger," he blurted, not really having meant to, and he felt himself blush when Dean smiled at him.

"You want me to make a run to that diner?" Dean asked.

Cas knew that look. Dean was amused that Cas was asking for something. Cas didn't ask for little things, at least not before he and Dean had gotten together. It was something he had learned with Dean's help, and Dean had always come alive when Cas asked, that light in his eyes Cas loved to see.

Dean frowned at the pause. "You didn't like that place?" he asked, concerned.

"I'd like cheeseburgers cooked on the grill," Cas said, bold in a way he hadn't felt in a few days. Bold in a way he was able to be with his Dean. Because his Dean would do anything for him.

"I think I could find a place that grills burgers," Dean said, nodding.

"No," Cas said, nervously fingering the handle of the broom. He had been so at ease with his Dean, but with this one he suddenly felt awkward, like a nuisance. "Never mind. The diner burgers are good," he said, then started to sweep up the glass.

"Cas?" Dean said, stepping in Cas' way, more glass crunching under his boot.

Cas stopped and chanced looking Dean in the eye. "Yes?"

"Just tell me what you want," Dean said, and instead of teasing him or appearing annoyed, Cas got the feeling Dean really wanted to know.

"I want your burgers," Cas said. "I want you to cook us cheeseburgers."

Dean froze for a moment, but then he smiled. "I can do that," he said.

Cas felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, and for a brief moment he felt like he did back in the world that had been created by his own mind. Because Dean had said that exact phrase whenever Cas had asked something of him. Those four simple words meant Dean would put his all into it until Cas would get what he wanted.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said, ducking his head and sweeping again.

"We don't have a grill here," Dean said, stepping out of the way of the broom, "and we don't have any hamburger meat, so I'm gonna head over to that giant megasuperstore market thing that has pretty much everything you could ever want. We'll have cheeseburgers for dinner, okay?"

Cas smiled. "I'd like that."

Dean had also taught Cas the joy of a victory dance when things went well, but Cas managed to control himself and not break out in a little wiggle when Dean left the kitchen.

*

"What's the occasion?" Sam asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Dean hadn't just bought hamburger meat, cheese, and a grill. He'd also brought home any condiment one could possibly want on a burger and fresh-baked rolls. It was all spread out on the stainless steel table.

"What'll it be, Sammy?" Dean asked as he made a sweeping motion over his burger bar.

Cas chuckled. It felt so much like home, like his Dean, like his Sam that Cas let himself get lost in the moment, let himself forget that the last few years hadn't been real.

"I'd like lots of ketchup," Cas blurted. "And pickles. Mustard too."

Sam huffed out a laugh as he walked up to the table. "The burgers smell great," he said, eyeing up all the condiments. "I want mustard, tomatoes, and lettuce," he said with a nod.

"Comin' up," Dean said as he arranged three cheeseburgers on three plates and started adding toppings to each of them.

When Cas' plate was pushed in front of him, he took a moment to drink in the wonderful smell of Dean's grilling skills. Sam was already moaning around a mouthful of burger.

Cas picked up his burger and took a huge bite, closing his eyes. It was home. It was Dean. It was years of a life he wanted so badly he, well, he could taste it. He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes, and when he opened them, both Sam and Dean were looking at him, Dean with a grin on his face and Sam with wide eyes.

"Those are some pretty happy noises there, dude," Dean said, amused.

Cas didn't even blush. He didn't care who heard him making happy noises while he ate Dean's burger. They were the best burgers he'd ever found, and he was so glad he'd asked Dean for them.

"S'good," Cas said with another mouthful of food.

Sam chuckled. "He likes to act as if he's clueless in the kitchen, but I've always loved Dean's cooking."

Dean's smile grew. "Yeah, I forgot how much I liked cooking something. It's been a while. And this kitchen is pretty awesome, so maybe I should take advantage of that."

"Yes!" Cas said, nodding enthusiastically.

Dean chuckled. "Okay. I don't think we'll always have the time, but if you guys want some home cookin', I'll try to fit it in when I can."

Cas didn't think anything could wipe the smile off his face.

_____

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