Create the Light Part 2

[mayalaen]

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Part 4 | Epilogue

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Cas knew he had to wait until a few more things happened. They weren't happening quickly enough, and in fact he wished he could move things along faster.

Dean always had a big heart, and his love and devotion for a select few was part of what made Dean who he was. But his Dean, Cas' Dean hadn't been ready to be with Cas intimately until after he'd allowed an angel to possess his brother. After Kevin had died. After he'd taken on the Mark of Cain. After he'd lost Charlie. After he'd lost control. And after he'd released The Darkness into the world.

Not that Dean didn't love him in his own way before that, but he wasn't ready to allow anyone else to love him back. Not in an intimate way. So watching Dean flirt with a hot bartender while they were grabbing some dinner after a hunt really fucking hurt. Not because Dean was betraying him in some way. No, Cas knew better. The Dean in his head hadn't happened yet. Dean would never hurt him like that.

It hurt because Cas knew his husband was in there. Knew he wasn't ready to come out yet, but that he was in there. And Dean had to go through even more pain than he'd already experienced in his relatively short life before Cas could have him.

"See you guys tomorrow," Dean said, smirking as he left the bar, the bartender hanging off his right arm and walking with the confidence of a woman who knew she was gonna get laid by a hot guy.

Cas swirled his French fry through the ketchup on his plate, not really paying attention to it, but instead remembering the times Dean had made him French fries from scratch. Even cutting the potatoes himself. They were the best fries he'd ever had.

When Cas finally raised his eyes from his plate, Sam was looking at him a little too closely. The moment was gone when another bartender, this one older and a lot more tired, walked up to their table.

"Anything else?" the woman asked, pushing some stray hair hanging in her face behind her right ear.

"No, we're good," Sam said.

Then she was gone, and Sam was pulling out his wallet. He set a few bills on the table, and it wasn't until then that Cas realized he hadn't finished his own food. He'd been too lost in his memories, hiding from the fact that Dean was in some random motel room fucking the bartender.

"Not hungry?" Sam asked.

Cas shoved the ketchup-covered fry into his mouth. "I am," he said, avoiding direct eye contact. But a few more bites and he lost his appetite, so he pushed the plate away.

Sam picked the keys up off the table, the ones Dean had left behind, and stood up before offering a hand to Cas. "Let's get outta here. I feel like going for a drive."

Cas took Sam's hand and soon they were driving down back roads and through older areas where the houses were spread out and the neighborhoods not as developed. Cas frowned when Sam stopped the car and got out.

Sam leaned down before closing his door and looked at Cas. "C'mon. It's a nice night," he said, then closed the driver's side door and walked away.

Cas got out of the car, surprised when he had no idea where they were. Usually he paid attention to things like that, but he was clueless and hurried to follow Sam. Sam climbed up on a grouping of rocks and sat down, swinging his long legs over the side.

When Cas climbed up on a rock next to Sam, he let out a sigh. It was beautiful. The city was below them and twinkling with lights. It was a sharp contrast to the quiet darkness they were surrounded by.

"Dean's not gonna say anything," Sam said, looking out at the city. "He's convinced you just need to work through some shit in your head, but we're both worried about you."

Cas didn't say anything. He'd been trying so hard to act normal, like he had nine years ago, but he wasn't that person anymore. He knew he'd been slipping.

"You wanna tell me what happened in that house?" Sam asked. "Because that witch did something to you. Dean even asked me if we should try throwing holy water on you, but you still seem like you. Just different in some way."

Cas' throat felt dry, and it was painful to swallow. He let his eyes skim over the city's lights, torn between telling Sam everything and brushing it off as nothing.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Sam said. "I'm not asking because we feel like you're a threat. We care about you, and it looks like you're having a hard time."

Cas ran the fingers of his left hand over the rock and found a smaller pebble. Playing with it nervously, he was reminded of a time when he'd had a conversation like this with Sam. It was just before Bobby had been born. Sam had been terrified that he was going to make awful mistakes as a father, that he was going to irrevocably fuck up his own kid.

Sam hadn't wanted to talk to Dean about it. Dean had been such a big influence in his life and he'd known that Dean would have just encouraged him, told him he'd be a great father and there was nothing to worry about.

But Cas had been there for him. He'd sat with Sam just like this. Distracted by a lake, the light reflected by the moon and onto the water calming and the silence around them a safe place to admit Sam was worried his kid would hate him as much as he'd hated John when he was a teenager.

Sam didn't hate him anymore. But to imagine that his kid could feel that way was upsetting.

"Every child feels some resentment toward their parents," Cas had said. "Parents are human and make mistakes. Even as much as you hated John, you still loved him, and once you grew up enough to realize why he made the decisions he made, you stopped hating him."

Sam had gotten a little sniffly, but in the end Cas' words had been a relief. Instead of just sugarcoating things and saying everything would be okay, Cas had told him that yes, it would hurt, but it was worth it. And Sam had been a wonderful father.

Cas flicked the pebble away, listening to it hit the rock at various points on the way to the ground.

"It took Dean a while to wake you up," Sam said. "And while he was doing that, I was trying to find out what happened to you. So I read a few lines of the spell she used on you."

Cas focused on a particularly pretty blue light down toward the east end of town. It was in front of a large building, but Cas had no idea what it was advertising. It was just pretty.

"You can talk to me about it," Sam said. "I won't tell Dean if you don't want me to. He doesn't know I read the spell."

Cas couldn't speak. He didn't want to. Yet a huge part of him did want to. Dean had always been there for him, but times when Cas couldn't or didn't want to go to Dean on something, Sam had been there. He'd even helped Cas figure out what to get Dean for anniversaries. Dean was hard to shop for, and he didn't really ask for things, which made it difficult for a newly-human angel.

"How long?" Sam asked.

Cas knew exactly what he was asking. Sam knew. He'd read enough of the spell to know what she'd done to him.

"Nine years," Cas said softly.

"Fuck," Sam whispered.

They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't awkward, and Cas was grateful for it. Dean had always complained that Sam was a pain in the ass when he was trying to find out what was wrong with someone, but Cas knew that was just how to get things out of Dean. With Cas it was comfortable silence, and Sam was well aware of that.

"I've seen the way you look at Dean since you woke up," Sam said. "And I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. I won't judge and I won't tell Dean if you don't want me to."

Cas let out a huff of laughter. "You said almost those exact same words nine years ago."

Sam chuckled. "And was that good advice or did I fuck something up?"

"It was good," Cas said. "It was really good."

"You love him," Sam said instead of asked. "Well, I mean, I know you guys love each other, but I mean you're in love with him."

"Enough to say yes when he asked me to marry him," Cas said.

Sam turned to him, a twinkle in his eye. "Did he ask me to be best man?" he asked with a grin.

Cas chuckled, the tension relieved. Sam had always been able to do that for him. "Yes, you were the best man."

"Awesome," Sam said, then he nudged Cas' left arm. "How about me? What did I do with my life?"

"You were happy," Cas said.

Sam smiled, nodding. "That's good. That's great."

"I don't know how to act," Cas said, watching as Sam sobered. "I've tried to pretend as if the last nine years didn't happen, because I know it didn't, but I keep slipping up. In my head, it did happen and it changed me. So much that I don't know how to be the old me anymore, the one I know you're both expecting me to be."

Sam shrugged. "So don't. Everything in life changes you. That's the essence of being human. What defines us isn't what happens to us, but how we deal with the things that happen to us. Something happened to you, and because you're human, you can't go back to what you were before no matter how much you want to, or how much you think others expect it."

"Dean will notice," Cas said.

Sam chuckled. "He already noticed. Did you remember the part where I said we're both worried about you? So go with it. You had an experience that changed you. He might try to get the details out of you, but you don't have to tell him if you don't want to. But maybe you should stop trying so hard to ignore the last nine years. The ones in your head. It's you, and you know Dean and I well enough that it was probably pretty close to who we are too. Was it good? Were you happy?"

Cas nodded. "Toward the end it was horrible, but I think it was because Dean was trying to pull me out of it. The spell was fighting it. Until then I was happy. We were all happy," he said, then shrugged.

"Your subconscious gave you a gift," Sam said. "You know the spell because you heard her say it. I didn't read it all, but I read enough to know there was nothing malicious about it. She probably wanted to distract you, to get you out of the way while she escaped, and she most likely used the first spell in her book that could get your head in a different place. You cobbled together pieces of all of us, and I'd be willing to bet it was as close to reality as possible."

"It feels that way," Cas said. "Other than what I've done differently since then, it's all happening over again. Even the hunts."

"How can that be possible?" Sam asked, frowning. "I mean, I figured we'd be pretty much us in your head, that the future you were living could be a possibility, but how can even the hunts be the same?"

"She was powerful," Cas said. "She was very old and had psychic powers. The amount of knowledge in my head isn't that of a normal human, and I believe everything worked together including her power, the spell, and my knowledge."

"You think you saw the actual future?" Sam asked, eyes widening.

Cas nodded. "I can't be sure, but things are happening very closely to the timeline in my mind."

"And we were all happy in that future?" Sam asked again.

Cas smiled. "Very."

"Were there hiccups along the way?" Sam asked. "Did shit happen? Anything bad that would prove it wasn't just a fairy tale in your head?"

"There were bad things, yes," Cas said with a nod. "But it all had to happen. It all led to the end result."

Sam winced, but then he shook it off as if he knew he had to keep himself from asking about all the bad shit. He took a moment to mull over everything Cas had said. "Then get us there,” he finally said, turning to Cas. “If you can move things along and admit your feelings to Dean before you did in your timeline, then do it.”

"He’s not ready," Cas said, shaking his head. "He wasn't ready until after... He wasn't ready."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe you’re the one who wasn't ready. Maybe Dean's more ready than you think he is."

"You think I should walk up to him and ask him to marry me?" Cas asked, smirking at Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No. We both know that'll get you a flustered and freaked out Dean,” he admitted. “But if you can’t move it along, then maybe you should just go with it. You already know we're headed for a time and place we all end up happy. What could be bad about that?”

Cas looked out at the city again. He wasn't good at a poker face anymore, and Sam already was reading him better than he had before the witch had shoved the next nine years into his head.

"I trust you, Cas," Sam said. "I know you gotta break some eggs to make an omelet. If it's going to change that place where we're all happy, don't tell me. When the time comes and there's tough decisions to be made, if I fight it at all, just tell me to let go and I will. I trust you."

"Even if it wasn't the real future?" Cas asked. Because he'd been thinking the same thing since he'd awakened from it.

"I trust you," Sam said again. "And even if it doesn't work out that way, I can't see how it would hurt.”

Cas nodded. "Thank you, Sam."

"Okay," Sam said before turning to look out at the city lights. They sat there in silence for a moment. “Married, huh?” he said, with just a hint of incredulity in his voice.

When Sam turned to look at him, Cas was smiling, a warm feeling in his chest. “Yes,” Cas said, still smiling.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, then he grinned. “Ok, spill,” he said with a nudge to Cas’ shoulder. “Tell me what a sappy dork my brother turns into."

Cas laughed, shaking his head.

*

"Hey, Cas," Sam said, catching him halfway through a yoga routine.

Cas hadn't started up yoga until Becca had convinced Sam it was awesome, then Sam had roped both Cas and Dean into it too. Cas always felt more relaxed when he did it, and the fact that Dean catching him partway through a routine meant he'd get laid if they were alone was just a bonus.

"Hi, Sam," Cas said, going to his knees and resting between poses.

"You seen Dean?" Sam asked.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head.

It was probably a good thing this Dean hadn't seen him practicing yoga. It might have broken the poor man's brain. His Dean loved checking him out while he was in poses, and he also loved randomly touching Cas. Sometimes it would make Cas break position, but they always had fun when that happened.

"If it's important, you can text him."

"No, no," Sam said, frowning. "It's not important. I just found a hunt about six hours from here, and I know he's been itching to tackle something like this."

Cas remembered that hunt. None of them had gotten hurt, at least not all that badly, and Dean had enjoyed himself thoroughly. "Send him a text," he said, shrugging. "At least let him know what you found."

"Yeah," Sam said, pulling out his phone. "So you like yoga now?"

Cas smiled. "You taught me some of these poses."

Sam chuckled as he sent off his text and put his phone back into his pocket. "Well I did a shitty job with that last one. You were out of position just a little."

"You know the poses?" Cas asked, frowning.

"Yeah, I did yoga in college," Sam said, then scrunched up his nose. "Wait, I thought you said I taught you. Why'd you think I didn't know them if I taught you the poses in your future?"

Cas had learned a little more about humanity, even if it was in his own head, and he felt a warmth in his chest when he realized Sam must have feigned ignorance so Becca would teach him yoga. It was sweet, and Cas wondered why Sam had never said anything to him. Cas wouldn't have told Becca if Sam didn't want him to.

"No reason," Cas said, shaking his head and spreading his knees apart to go into another pose. "And the pose was modified. Dean and I modified it because of his knee, and I just got used to doing it that way."

Dean had injured the knee while Cas was human, but wouldn't allow Cas to heal him once he got his grace back. He'd been too mad at the world, felt too guilty about letting an angel possess Sam that he didn't feel he deserved it until it was too late and the world no longer had anything supernatural in it. But Sam didn't need to know that.

Sam got down on the floor, the cushioned mat they used for sparring more than enough for holding the pose he got into. "Are you still worried it's not going to happen the way it played out in your head?" he asked, voice soft in a way that said Sam didn't want to hurt Cas, but he was concerned.

Cas stretched his left leg out and made sure he was steady before answering. "Sometimes, but then something else will happen here in the real world just like it happened in my head and it reassures me."

"So you're not worried you're changing things?" Sam asked.

"I haven't so far," Cas said.

"Lucy, I'm home!" Dean called from the hallway.

Cas moved out of the pose and sat down on the mat, crossing his legs, pleased when Sam did the same. Sam hadn't said much about Cas' time in his own head, but he also hadn't said anything to Dean about it.

Sam chuckled. "You're never gonna get tired of that line, are you, Ricky?"

Dean smirked. "Still cracks you up," he said.

Sam shook his head, chuckling again. "Ya got me there."

"So when are we leavin'?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands together in an almost gleeful way.

"I'll change," Cas said, getting up and heading for his room.

"You do that," Dean said, "and we'll make sure the car's packed."

*

"Zombie birds," Dean said again, shaking his head and chuckling. "I can't believe I'm on a hunt for zombie birds!"

Sam huffed out a laugh as he handed Dean a handmade flamethrower. It was more of a blowtorch, but they'd modified a tank, sort of like an acetylene torch, to make a handheld version of the flamethrower. It wasn't the safest thing, but it got the job done.

"So do we make bird calls or some shit like that?" Dean asked, rubbing his thumb over the tip of the pipe where the flame would exit, just to make sure it wasn't clogged. "And what if they fly away?"

"You didn't think to ask this before now?" Sam teased. "You just heard zombie birds and that's all the info you need?"

Cas hadn't been able to use the small hunting knife he'd taken last time when they'd done this hunt in his head, so he left it behind and took a hatchet. It wouldn't give him much more range, but he remembered having to walk around and just yank a bunch of necks, which had been gross because of all the gore, rotting flesh, and ratty feathers. He remembered wishing he'd taken the hatchet.

"I figured if there was anything important, you'd tell me," Dean said as he shoved a gun down the back of his jeans.

"You need to behead them," Sam said, grabbing the machete, which is what Dean had taken the first time around.

This time, Dean grabbed the small hunting knife that Cas had decided against. Cas also took the baseball bat. It hadn't really been pleasant to get gore all over his face when he'd hit one of the birds with the bat, but it had been effective, making their little heads explode and accomplishing more than he'd been able to with the knife.

"Let's do this," Dean said, closing the trunk and heading off toward the trees.

It didn't take long to find the birds. And really they were more pathetic than scary. Most of them were gnawing on a dead deer.

"Seriously?" Dean said, a little disappointed. "I expected a lot more snarling. Maybe some moaning?" he shook his head. "Where's the challenge?"

Cas got away with a smirk because Dean was complaining to Sam and hadn't looked his way. The next second the first bird realized with its little zombie brain that Dean was looking a little tasty, so it flop-flew up and headed for his back. Cas wasn't worried. The sound of the wings and the horror-film-esque screeching alerted Dean long before the thing was even close to him.

Dean spun around, hunting knife in hand, and sliced the thing's head clean off, the body flopping to the ground. Cas was ready, because as soon as the bird's body hit the mossy leaves covering the ground, all the rest of the crows, finches, sparrows, and a couple of hawks decided to attack.

There were birds everywhere, and even as some of them caught the business end of the flamethrower and exploded, gore spraying all over them, others flew into each other and turned the whole thing into the most ridiculous horde of anything Cas had ever seen.

A hawk screeched as it headed for Sam's hair, then Sam screeched when he realized said hawk was on fire and his hair was getting singed. Dean's knife got stuck in a crow, and as he shook the thing off, it hit two other crows, sending them down to the ground, a sickening splat-crunch of a sound before they were up again and pecking at his ankles.

Cas knocked the hawk away from Sam's head, but not before a lock of Sam's hair caught fire. Thankfully Sam had started flailing around, his machete catching the second hawk, which sprayed gore all over Sam's head, conveniently putting out the fire.

Sam recovered quickly and started swinging again while Cas held the baseball bat with both hands and hit as many birds as he could. Cas cringed when he heard a screech from somewhere behind him. He knew it was the vulture. Yeah, a fucking vulture.

The powerful wings smacked him in the head, sending him stumbling off to his left. He tripped over a rock, going down hard. There were blinding colors and deafening sounds for a moment just before the pain in his skull registered, and Cas rolled onto his back, stunned.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, but soon two worried faces were hovering over him.

"Cas!" Dean was saying. "You okay?"

Sam was down on his knees and cupping the side of Cas' head. "Cas, say something."

"Ow," Cas said, frowning as he reached up.

"Dean, gimme your-," he started, but before Sam could finish, Dean had already shoved his recently torn-off sleeve into Sam's hand.

"What happened?" Cas asked, blinking up at Dean as Sam wrapped the material around Cas' head and applied pressure.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean said as the two of them each took a side and hefted Cas up between them, headed for the car.

"This didn't happen," Cas said, squinting as he tried to touch the side of his head.

"You're gonna be okay, Cas," Sam said, grabbing Cas' hand before he could touch.

"But this didn't happen," Cas insisted.

He didn't remember the car ride to the hospital, but he did remember Dean loudly insisting, "Just start fixing him! I'll get the fuckin' insurance info filled out! Just fix him!"

*

Cas felt really good. Everything was fluffy and warm and just really good. When the nurse gave him another injection, something felt cold as it spread throughout his body, but then it became warm again.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, eyes a little wider than normal. "We need to get you outta here."

Sam was on the other side of him, and both of them helped him out of the bed. "Hang onto us."

Cas smiled at them. "Home?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're goin' home," Dean said. "Fuckin' nurses and their stupid fuckin' computer skills. Whatever happened to the days when fake IDs got ya at least a day or two in the hospital?"

Cas gasped as they got outside. He couldn't see, and he was scared something had happened to his eyes on the way out. What if he was never able to see again?

"Calm down, dude," Dean said. "It's nighttime. You can still see."

Oh, he'd said that out loud. Okay, well, if Dean said he could still see, then he could probably still see. The car ride back to the bunker was quiet, and Cas really wanted to sleep, comfortable in the back seat with Sam as his pillow, but Sam kept waking him up.

"That didn't happen," Cas said after Sam woke him up for the fourth time.

"It's okay," Sam whispered, holding Cas close. "Everything's going to be okay."

"But it didn't happen," Cas said.

"I know," Sam said, nodding. "But it's going to be okay."

"What's he talkin' about, Sam?" Dean asked from the driver's seat.

"I think he's having a hard time dealing with the whole I'm-a-human-and-can-get-hurt thing," Sam said, an odd expression on his face. "It's gonna be okay, Cas," he said, smiling at Cas.

Cas nodded, then put his head down on Sam's shoulder. Sam felt good. He was warm and he had his right arm wrapped around Cas. He didn't smell good. He smelled like rotting flesh. But that was okay. Cas didn't mind.

*

Cas spent a lot of time reading over the next few days. Nothing in particular. His head hurt whenever he tried to do anything strenuous, and even reading too long made it hurt. He leaned against the bookshelf as he sat on the floor, legs crossed, book forgotten in his lap.

"You okay?" Sam asked as he sat down on the floor next to Cas.

"I don't need the pain pills anymore," Cas said, reaching up to gently touch the bandage on the left side of his head. "It's much better."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, but that's not what I meant," Sam said.

"I know," Cas said, frowning down at the book.

"So what did happen the first time around?" Sam asked, glancing toward the doorway in case Dean was somewhere near.

Cas used to feel reassured by the way Sam treated the events in his head as being reality, like it was an alternate universe that Cas had been in for years, but now it felt hollow.

"None of us got hurt," Cas said. "Your hair was a little singed, but that was the worst of the damage."

Sam leaned in closer, letting their sides brush up against each other. "You know, it might not mean that future you were hoping for is a lost cause," he said, keeping is voice low.

"It was my fault," Cas said, turning to look up at Sam. His throat felt tight, mouth dry. He shook his head. "It was such a simple thing. I didn't think it would matter."

"You changed something?" Sam asked, the tone of his voice more interested than shocked or upset.

Cas nodded. "The first time around I was the one who took the hunting knife, Dean had the baseball bat and the machete."

"Fuck," Sam said. "That's it? Nothing else was different?"

Cas winced. "I didn't think it would be a good idea to tell you about your hair before it happened."

Sam chuckled. "No, it's okay. If something as small as what weapons we're carrying to stop a horde of zombie birds can change things that drastically, then maybe we need to be more careful."

Cas sighed, resting his head back against the bookshelf. "I didn't think it would make a difference, but if my head had hit that rock one inch to the left, it would've possibly killed me with a blow to my temporal nerves."

"Then we stick to the plan," Sam said. "If you notice me or Dean changing what we did the first time around, just nudge us in the right direction. If he fights it, I'll put up a fuss. You know he'll let me do what I want if I throw a fit about something."

Cas chuckled when Sam nudged him playfully. "Okay."

"Try not to freak out over it," Sam said. "Maybe we don't have to follow everything exactly. Maybe we'll always end up in the same place we were meant to be."

"I hope so," Cas said. "Feeling the way I do, being human and feeling so vulnerable and so ineffectual, I'm scared that I'll be the reason we miss out."

"So don't think about it that way," Sam said. "We're only human. Too much weight on our shoulders makes us fuck up. So just try to keep nudging us in the right direction. All you can do is hope for the best. We still don't even known if what you saw was really the future. It might just be some fantasy your unconscious mind threw at you."

"I've considered that possibility," Cas said. "But it wasn't a fantasy world. There were still problems. Dean and I had disagreements, bad things happened, and life was hard at times."

"Even so," Sam said, "you're not stupid, and you know full well that life isn't easy. Maybe your unconscious mind wouldn't give you an awesome fantasy world even if a djinn let you have everything your heart desired."

"But if that's true, then that means...," he trailed off, eyes unfocused as he looked toward the doorway.

"Okay, then knock it off," Sam said, voice stronger, louder as he sat up and turned to Cas. "We're gonna get there. That future where things are good but not perfect. We're gonna make it. Just do your best, and I'm here for you whenever you start to feel unsure about it."

Cas looked up at Sam. "How can you be so sure about it? I've told you about some fantasy world in my head, and you just went on like that could be our future. Why?"

"You have no reason to lie, in the first place," Sam said. "And besides that, I can see such a difference in you. You're not the same guy who got jumped by a witch. Dean can see something's up, but he's too scared to talk about it. He's scared the realities of being human have broken you. But I know why you're like this. And I want to believe that what you experienced, what you saw inside your own head can be our future. You haven't told me a whole lot about it, but I want it. And so what if we're wrong?"

Cas smiled. "You're right."

"Yeah, I am," Sam said with a grin.

"I always went to you for advice," Cas said. "You were always there for me."

"Was I always right?" Sam asked.

Cas chuckled. "Most of the time. And even when you weren't right, you still had my best interests at heart."

"Good, then just go with me on this," Sam said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Dean kills the both of us when he finds out," Cas said without hesitation.

Sam tilted his head back and let out a hearty laugh. "C'mon, I'm hungry," he said, still laughing as he hefted himself up and held out a hand for Cas. "Let's go see if we can get Dean to make us dinner."

Cas smiled as he took Sam's hand. "He makes really good twice-baked potatoes too."

"Oh, yeah," Sam moaned as they headed for the doorway. "Let's ask him to do that and some steaks."

*

Cas was sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He didn't feel much like socializing, even after Sam's pep talk, and he'd started reading some best seller Sam had brought home for him. It was predictable, but Cas was still enjoying it.

"Time for a bandage change," Dean said as he walked into Cas' room.

Cas looked up, frowning as Dean came in and plopped down on the bed next to him, a new bandage and some disinfectant wipes in his left hand.

"Does it still hurt?" Dean asked as he gently pulled the bandage away from Cas' wound.

Mostly they had to stick the bandages to his hair because the hospital hadn't shaved him, and really there wasn't a reason to do that. It seemed to stay in place for the most part.

"Only if I touch it," Cas said.

Dean was so close he could smell him, and as Dean ever-so-carefully wiped the stitched skin with the disinfectant wipe, Cas felt his cock twitch. He flinched, then turned to look at Dean, eyes wide.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" Dean asked, wincing.

"Um, no," Cas said, relieved that Dean had been too focused on cleaning the wound that he hadn't noticed anything else.

"We should be able to stop putting bandages on this after tomorrow," Dean said, pulling a small tube of triple antibiotic out of his jeans pocket.

Cas closed his eyes, imagining that he'd never been pulled from that world he'd been in. Imagined that Dean was sitting next to him on their bed, touching him so gently, so softly because Dean was like that with him, because his husband thought he was something to be held and loved and treated with care. Not because he was weak, but because Dean just had this way of protecting the ones he loved that could be felt in everything he did with them, even if he was upset or mad.

He couldn't suppress the shiver as Dean smoothed the triple antibiotic over his skin. Dean could be so gentle when he needed to be. And Cas loved that about him. He loved that Dean could take on the biggest of the bad, tearing down anything in his path, and then he could turn around and touch Cas, a whisper of his fingers over Cas' skin, a gentle kiss, the ghost of his breath giving Cas chills even as it turned him on.

Dean put the new bandage into place, but instead of getting up, he just stayed where he was. Finally Cas opened his eyes again and looked at Dean. Cas wanted to pretend. He didn't want to admit that this wasn't his Dean, at least not yet.

Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Dean and put his head down on Dean's shoulder, breathing in the soap Dean liked to use, the aftershave, and just a hint of grease from when he'd been working on the car earlier in the day.

Dean didn't push him away. Cas knew he wouldn't. Dean could put up a front with everyone, but when someone he loved needed it, Dean would give. Always.

"I know I don't act like it," Dean said, "but if you want to talk to me about anything that's going on, you can."

Cas closed his eyes, his chest feeling tight. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want to pull back and see the old Dean looking back at him. The one that hadn't said 'I do' yet. The one who hadn't held him as he said 'I love you' yet. The one who hadn't yet slipped in the shower while they were trying to fuck, earning himself a scar on his left upper back that Cas loved to kiss and lick.

He chuckled, remembering the expression on Dean's face. Dean had blushed even as the blood oozed from the wound on his back. Sitting on the floor of the shower, cock still hard, and yet the man had blushed because he'd been the one to suggest shower sex, and it was Dean's foot that had slipped, sending the both of them crashing down to the floor.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean asked. But it was that other Dean, not his Dean.

Cas finally pulled back, already missing the warmth. "Yes, I'm fine."

He couldn't have Dean yet. Dean wasn't ready. And if Cas tried to push things along, get his future quicker, he might blow the whole thing. One mistake and it had earned him a gash on the side of his head. He refused to lose Dean because he couldn't be patient.

"You hungry?" Dean asked.

Cas smiled. "Yeah."

Dean smiled back. "What do you want me to make for you?"

Cas' chest felt tight again, only this time it wasn't because he ached for the Dean in his head. No, this time it was because Dean had already realized Cas liked his cooking, and instead of waiting for Cas to suggest it, Dean was offering. It wasn't what he had in his head, but they were getting there, just like Sam said they would.

"Chili and cornbread," Cas said.

Dean chuckled. "I gotta make you cornbread too?" he teased.

Cas nodded. "Cheddar cheese shreds on top of the chili."

Dean slid off the bed. "Okay, but you gotta help me," he said, then held out his hand. "That's a lot of cans to open, and I'll get a cramp in my hand, so you're in charge of the cans while I get the cornbread mix ready."

"Deal," Cas said, taking Dean's hand.

*

"Ah!" Cas yelped, sitting up in bed. It was dark in his room save the desk lamp he kept on.

He was sweating, shivering, and panting. He hadn't had nightmares since he'd been back in the bunker, but he'd had a few of them when he'd been living in his head. Dean had always been there for him, cuddling him in bed until Cas could calm down and fall asleep again. It didn't happen all that often, and in fact Dean had nightmares more often than Cas, but he suddenly felt the need to be with Dean.

Cas stumbled out of bed, the sheets wrapped around his legs, but he ignored them and hobbled across the room until they let go of him. He padded down the hallway and stopped at Dean's door.

Dean was sleeping on his stomach, face smashed into the pillow and turned toward the door, his left leg hanging off the side of the mattress. He was in nothing but his black boxer briefs, the sheets and blanket having been kicked to the end of the bed.

Cas had no reason to be there. Sure, he could climb into bed and explain to Dean he'd had a nightmare, and he knew Dean would take him in. But was that pushing too hard too fast? He'd never gone to Dean for a nightmare before they'd started living together. If he did it now, it might change things.

His heart was still pounding, and the idea of going back to his room alone was damn near overwhelming, so he moved quietly, tip-toeing to the bed, and then he lowered himself to the floor. It wasn't the first time he'd slept on the floor, and even though he knew he'd wake up with a sore neck and back, it was better than the alternative. It took him a while to fall asleep, but he didn't have any more nightmares.

But then something was poking him in the side. He turned over, rubbing his eyes as Dean looked down at him over the edge of the bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked, confused.

"I had a nightmare," Cas said before he was awake enough to come up with something else.

"Get up here, you idiot," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "You're gonna give yourself a bad back sleeping on the floor."

Cas didn't need to be told twice. He climbed into bed and snuggled up behind Dean. Dean only had one pillow, so Cas put his head down on his own right arm, but then Dean was turning over to face him and pushing the pillow at him.

"Here, we can share," Dean said.

Cas smiled as he turned to face Dean and put his head down on his end of the pillow. "Thank you."

*

Castiel woke before Dean, smiling when he realized Dean had wrapped his arms around him sometime in the night. Dean tended to do that. No matter what position they were in when they fell asleep, Dean somehow found a way to wrap himself around Cas or push one leg between Cas' or even just rest his head on Cas' chest or arm.

They were still face-to-face, and Dean's right arm was draped over Cas' left side while Cas' head was using Dean's left arm as a pillow. He didn't want this to ever end. He could smell Dean, feel the warmth of his body, and could hear the soft breathing that meant Dean was asleep, but not very deeply. Dean would wake within the next half hour.

Cas turned his head and placed a gentle kiss on Dean's inner arm, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that the years in his head, those ones he spent with his husband, were real.

It was a weekend morning. They didn't have to hurry to shower and get to work. Dean would cook him breakfast, and they'd sit at the kitchen table, Dean drinking coffee, Cas with orange juice because he never did develop a taste for dark roast.

Dean would be asking him if there was anything new happening at the university, and Cas would tell him a few things while Dean would listen intently, as if he really gave a shit about what Cas was saying. He'd ask questions and laugh if Cas talked about something even remotely funny.

And Cas would ask about what Dean had planned for the day. Dean had a hectic job that was full of unplanned events and horrors, and on the weekends Dean liked to take things slower.

Sometimes they'd go fishing. Cas didn't really like it all that much, and Dean very rarely caught fish, but it was nice to sit out on the lake, enjoying quiet conversation or just silence.

Other times Dean would just hop in the car and they'd go driving. A lifetime on the road changed a person, even if they'd never hunted the supernatural, and Dean loved driving, loved taking Cas sightseeing and stopping at random places.

And then there were times they'd just spend the day in their boxers on the couch, watching movies for hours, munching on pizza after having scared off yet another pizza delivery person by one of them answering the door in nothing but their boxers.

Cas missed it. Missed it so much it hurt. There was an empty void. He wanted to come clean with Dean, lay it all out on the table. He could taste it. He could see it happening in his head.

But he was too scared to lose that future. He'd never forgive himself if he moved too fast with Dean. Dean had layers upon layers, and walls to keep multiple other walls from being penetrated. Pushing Dean never worked out well.

And yet letting Dean take his time, letting him go at his own pace, lowering his walls on his terms with gentle nudging was beautiful. And Dean had done it. He'd lowered every single wall for Cas and let him in.

Dean made a snuffling noise, and Cas opened his eyes, worried that Dean was waking early. But instead Cas just stayed still, and finally Dean held him tighter and settled again.

And really that's what had broken Dean's walls down. Cas hadn't pushed, hadn't insisted, hadn't nagged. He had just loved Dean, stayed when nobody else had, and when Dean had seen the proof right before his eyes that someone wasn't just giving him empty promises, he'd started coming undone for Cas.

It wasn't all good. Dean had been through literal Hell and many other things that had damaged him. But Cas had taken the good and the bad, and it turned out to be all Dean needed. He needed to know he could show weakness and wouldn't be abandoned, that he could throw a temper tantrum over something and Cas wouldn't rise to the fight, that he could tell Cas he loved him and Cas wouldn't use it to get something out of Dean.

Cas looked up at Dean's face again and held his breath when he saw green eyes looking back at him. He'd been so lost in his head that he hadn't noticed Dean's breathing change.

"Hey," Dean said.

Cas' chest ached so badly that he wanted to rub his fist over it, like a muscle pull that wouldn't stop until he massaged it. "Hi," he said instead.

"Did you sleep okay?" Dean asked, morning voice all scratchy and deep.

"Yes, thank you," Cas said.

"I don't mind you comin' in here when you have nightmares," Dean said. "I've experienced enough of my own and Sammy's to know that sleeping alone makes it worse."

Cas had pushed. He'd slept with Dean to help his nightmares. He'd done something ahead of schedule. He'd done something that had changed their relationship very quickly in that other world.

"Thank you," Cas said, stomach churning.

Dean's stomach growled. "I guess I'm hungry, huh?"

Cas smiled. "Me too," he lied. He didn't know if he could keep anything down.

"Eggs, bacon, and toast?"

The thought of eggs almost made him gag, but he nodded anyway. "Okay."

"I'm gonna grab a shower first," Dean said as he started pulling his arm out from under Cas' head. "Then I'll make breakfast while you're showering."

Cas sat up, longing for the days when they'd shower together, then work side-by-side in the kitchen making breakfast. "Okay."

"See if Sam's up yet," Dean said as he grabbed his towel and headed for the door. "He probably already ate something, but he might want more than that sludge shit."

Cas watched Dean walk out the door, and before Dean could've even made it into the shower, Cas was hurrying for Sam's room. Sam wasn't there, so Cas jogged to the library. Still no Sam. Next he tried the kitchen, but just when he was about to give up, he remembered the training room and headed there.

"You okay?" Sam asked, sitting on a mat in the training room, legs crossed in a relaxed pose.

"I moved too fast," Cas said, eyes wide. He didn't know what was happening, but he was more than scared. He was panting and it felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire. The light was too bright, the sound of Sam's voice too loud, and even when Sam pushed him down to the mat, it wasn't soft.

"...down. Just keep breathing," Sam said, hands gentle on Cas' skin. "Breathe for me. In and out. In and out."

Cas sat on the mat, blinking at Sam, confused and scared, but his breathing seemed to be slower and more deliberate, the lights not so bright, the sounds not too loud. "What happened?" he asked, feeling shaky.

"Did you get panic attacks much when you lived with Dean?" Sam asked.

Cas wasn't stupid. He knew what panic attacks were. He'd just never experienced one before. "That was awful," he said.

Sam smiled. "Yeah. They suck. But now that you're calmed down, you can tell me what set it off. Maybe we can fix whatever it is that freaked you out."

Cas winced. "I moved too fast. With Dean."

"How?" Sam asked, no longer holding Cas' upper arms, but his fingers were running gently over Cas' knees, keeping him grounded with touch.

"I had a nightmare last night," Cas said, looking down at Sam's hands, feeling like a fool. "I always felt safe and could sleep if I was with Dean, so I went to his room. After he found me sleeping on the floor, he called me up on the bed with him. I went," Cas said, whispering the last part like it was a sin he was confessing.

"Did you guys do anything?" Sam asked.

"No," Cas said, shaking his head.

"Then what's there to worry about?" Sam said, shrugging.

"That's how it started," Cas said, looking Sam in the eye. "I had terrible nightmares, and he would let me sleep in his bed because he knew it helped."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he's had a lot of experience with nightmares. It always helped me when I could climb into bed with him. Wish I could do the same for him, but he's worried he'll hurt me."

"But that's how it started!" Cas said, reaching out and grabbing Sam's shirt desperately.

"Hey, calm down," Sam said, putting his hands over Cas'. "I know you're worried you're fucking the future up, but what if little things like that don't matter? What if all the little decisions aren't as important as the big ones, and we just give too much credit to our actions? You've got so much knowledge in your head, you're much older than even a few generations of humans. In the grand scheme of things, do little decisions really make all that much difference?"

Cas nodded. "Sometimes. But most of the time they don't."

"Okay, so what if working toward that goal you have in your head is what matters?" Sam said. "Maybe it's not all the little things on the journey, but instead it's the destination."

"I never thought we'd end up together," Cas said. "How could I have been working toward that when even after I'd slept in his bed for months, I still didn't realize what we were becoming?"

"You loved him, right?" Sam asked.

Cas frowned. "Of course I love him. I married him!" he hissed.

"No, I mean you loved him even before that," Sam said, grinning. "Cas, you left Heaven, turned on your family, and disobeyed for him. You fought with us and killed your brothers and sisters for him. Are you telling me you felt nothing for him until months after you'd been sleeping in the same bed?"

Cas let out a sigh. "You said the same thing to me in the future," he said, almost disgusted with himself.

Sam chuckled. "And was I right?"

"Yes," Cas admitted.

"Okay, so maybe that time it took me pointing it out for you to realize that you'd loved him long before that," Sam said. "But did it really change the way you felt about him? Did it change your actions all that much?"

"Other than the kissing and sex?" Cas asked, knowing full well the reaction he'd get.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, other than that," he said, patronizing tone to his voice.

And Cas knew that was because this Sam didn't know Cas could tease, especially about sex. But as soon as the grin grew on Cas' face, Sam let out a huff of laughter.

"I can see why you and I got along so well in your future," Sam said.

Cas smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at their hands. "I don't want to mess this up," he whispered.

"That's part of being human," Sam said, sobering. "You're going to make mistakes, but just remember how you feel about him. And remember that he doesn't let people in easily. How many people in his life has he let sleep in his bed?"

"He's had many lovers," Cas said, not upset about it, just mentioning the fact.

"Not lovers. I'm talking about people he's let just sleep next to him in bed," Sam said, leaning closer. "I bet you could count them on one hand. You know he cares about you, that he loves you, and that the reason you two finally got together wasn't just because he was helping you through nightmares."

"I don't know that," Cas said.

Sam smiled. "Okay, well, I said I'm trusting you on the awesome future we can all have, so now I want you to trust me when I say he loves you already. Maybe you're not where you'd like to be yet, but it'll come. There's this end game we've all been moving toward all our lives, and I can't believe we'd end up with nothing. I have to believe we all find some kind of happiness. And besides, how many times have I been wrong when I've given you advice?"

Cas smiled. "Not many."

"Breakfast!" Dean yelled from the doorway, making Cas flinch and Sam chuckle.

"Let's eat!" Sam said, standing up and holding a hand out to Cas.

Cas followed Sam to the kitchen, all the things he'd already changed running through his head. He'd never have done most of them if he'd had his grace, and if he was ruining his chances of having that life he saw in his head, he'd be the only one to blame.

*

He'd gotten soft in the years he'd been living happily with Dean, safe in a house without the threat of vampires, demons, werewolves, or anything else that wasn't human. He and Dean still worked out together, but nothing could replace the muscle memory of training and putting that training into practice on a regular basis.

The fact that he was limping away from a hunt he hadn't been hurt on the first time around was both a relief and terrifying. He came to the realization his muscle memory had left him when it came to shooting a gun while lying on his back, which had to mean his mind and body had lost that ability over time. It didn't make sense, but the human part of him, the illogical and emotionally-driven part of him wanted to believe.

It was terrifying because that future he wanted so badly seemed even more out of his reach when so much was changing. He had no idea what, if anything, else could be changed without destroying that future.

"It's just a sprain, buddy," Dean said, patting him on the shoulder as they all made their way back to the Impala. "I've got some pain killers in the trunk. They'll take the edge off, then we'll get your leg elevated when we get back to the bunker."

It hurt, but the pain wasn't what had put the expression on his face that Dean had noticed. Dean was worried, and Cas couldn't help himself. He was trying, but it had been years since he'd been human and had to go up against a soul eater.

The thing had touched Dean's soul. It hadn't done that the first time around because Cas had rolled with the fall, landing on his back and shooting the thing right between the eyes and in the heart, killing it. This time he hadn't. He'd flailed on his back like a turtle, shooting the ceiling of the house they were in and the soul eater's shoulder.

He'd only managed to piss the creature off. The fact that he didn't have a soul only made the thing more furious. It tossed him across the room, and in the process he'd sprained his ankle.

Sam had killed the thing before anyone else was injured, but the damage had been done. Part of him was happy that Dean wasn't going to limp in this new future. That the yoga would be modified to accommodate his own injury instead of Dean's. Another part of him wondered if Dean had only settled down because of the injury.

"Okay, stop," Sam said when the car was within sight. Dean and Cas stopped and looked to Sam. "Your leg is moving... in a way it shouldn't."

Cas frowned at him, and as they stood there, Dean's eyes on Cas' leg and Sam's eyes locked with Cas', realization hit Sam. The blood drained from his face and his eyes widened. The injury Cas had told Sam about.

"C'mere," Sam said, walking up to Cas and tossing him over his shoulder.

"Sam, put me down," Cas said, but it was only a token complaint. His knee had been killing him. It wasn't as bad as the ache in his chest, but now that he was off the leg, he was relieved.

"It's just a sprain," Dean insisted as they walked to the car.

"No, it's not," Sam said.

"Oh, so you know what's wrong just by watching him walk?" Dean asked, defensive in a way that meant Dean was freaking out over the injury.

Sam gently set Cas in the back seat, then went around to the other side and climbed in the back with him. "Get us to the hospital," Sam said.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean said, poking his head into the car and gaping at Sam.

"No," Sam said, resting a hand on Cas' wrist in a comforting gesture.

Dean looked to Cas, brow furrowed with worry. "Okay, hospital it is."

*

Cas was shivering. They'd given him some pain killers, but it wasn't doing much. Once the adrenaline had worn off, he'd been hit with a ripping pain that had him panting. And when he thought of what had happened the first time around, when he thought of Dean experiencing that pain and walking around for a few days before Sam insisted on going to the emergency room, well, Cas was nearly in tears.

The pain was awful, and Dean would have known that it was a serious injury, but after spending all those years as Dean's husband, Cas had the experience to know Dean was scared out of his mind, hiding it, trying to ignore it in the hopes it would go away. But Dean had been in agony.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," Dean said, giving him a smile as he put a hand on Cas' thigh.

Cas felt tears welling up in his eyes. He was scared about what had happened to him, scared about the surgery the doctor had said he needed, scared about how much he'd changed things, and every small movement sent pain flashing through his body, reminding him that Dean had experienced this, that Dean had silently suffered.

"Surgery's not as bad as it sounds," Dean said.

Cas felt exposed in his hospital gown, the sheet covering his lower body and the curtain separating him from the rest of the ER not nearly enough because he could hear people talking, crying, shouting, and he could hear beeps, clicks, and other sounds that meant he was just as human as the rest of the people there.

"It'll slow you down for a while," Dean said, thumb rubbing back and forth on Cas' thigh, "and you heard the doctor. He said you'll need some physical therapy afterward, but he had high hopes for you being back on your feet in no time."

Cas had been with Dean when Dean had been sitting in the emergency room, cold and scared and in pain. He'd seen the fear in Dean's eyes, feeling helpless himself when he couldn't make it all better for Dean.

"Hey," Dean said, leaning down so that his face was hovering over Cas', "you're gonna be okay. Just keep breathing."

Cas took a shuddering breath in, trying to focus on Dean as Dean's fingers carded through his hair, Dean's other hand resting on Cas' chest. He felt his bottom lip quivering, but he couldn't stop himself.

"C'mon, Cas," Dean said, voice going even softer as he put his lips to Cas' right ear. "Keep breathing. You're gonna be okay. Listen to my breathing and just do what I do."

Cas nodded, fisting the scratchy sheet that had been tossed over him. He tried to regulate his breathing, match it to Dean's, but when he felt tears running down the sides of his face and into his hair, his resolve broke. He sucked in some air, then held his breath.

"Don't hold your breath," Dean said, face hovering over Cas again. "If you've gotta cry some, just let it out. Holding it in is only gonna make it worse, and then you're gonna scare the shit out of the little kid next door who's getting a tetanus shot."

Cas let out a noise that was part sob and part laugh. It was a horrible noise, but the look on Dean's face made everything better, the fact that he was teasing Cas had eased the tension. Cas panted, lips curling up into a smile as he wiped at his face.

"I'm sorry," Cas said.

"Don't be," Dean said, patting his chest. "This is scary shit."

"I thought you said it wasn't bad," Cas accused, but he was smiling.

"I just said that so you'd stop crying like a girl," Dean said, grinning.

Cas let out another horribly loud laugh, but he was grateful because he wasn't nearly as upset as he'd been before Dean started teasing him. This Dean wasn't as good at it as his Dean had been, but he'd get there. He'd learn the warning signs that would tell him Cas was heading for a panic attack, and he'd talk him down before things got bad.

Just like Cas learned to do for Dean when the life they'd made together, the house they lived in, and the job he worked at every day became claustrophobic. It didn't happen often, but Dean had grown up on the road, and even though he loved his life, it could get overwhelming at times.

"Dean?" Cas said.

"Yeah?" Dean replied, still giving him his full attention.

"What if I don't wake up?" Cas asked, forcing words out through a tight throat.

Dean paused a moment, and Cas could tell he was taken aback, the question not really all that Cas-like, at least as this Dean knew him.

"You're gonna wake up," Dean said, then yanked on a tuft of Cas' hair playfully. "I'll be waiting for you, so you'd better wake up, or I'm gonna storm the operating room and slap you upside the head until you do."

They wouldn't have been words of comfort to many people, but to Cas they were. It was obvious Dean was nervous about the whole thing, but he wasn't terrified, and Cas had learned a long time ago that a terrified Dean meant some bad shit was going to happen, but a nervous and concerned Dean meant things were probably going to be okay.

Dean straightened back up, and Cas gasped, reaching out and grabbing Dean's hand before it could leave his chest.

"Don't leave!" Cas said.

Dean gave him a little smile. "I'm not goin' anywhere. At least not until they make me go to the waiting room. And then I'll see you when you wake up."

"Okay," Cas said, but he didn't let go of Dean's hand.

He didn't even let go of Dean's hand when the doctor came back in, telling them that the OR was ready for him and to say goodbye.

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "This isn't a goodbye. It's an I'll see ya later."

Cas forced a smile as Dean gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go. "See ya," he said.

"I'll be waiting for you," Dean said.

"Okay," Cas said.

He was scared as they wheeled him down the hallway, but he closed his eyes and imagined he was back in his home with Dean. They were sitting on the couch, laughing at a stupid comedy, eating pizza and wings, drinking beer, and Dean was holding him, casual touches that made Cas feel loved.

"Count down from one hundred, Mr. Winchester," the doctor said.

Cas fell asleep with a smile on his face, imagining Dean telling the staff that Cas' last name was Winchester. And it really was, even if Dean didn't know it yet.

*

"You have to go slow," Dean said, putting a hand on Cas' shoulder.

Cas let out a sigh. He'd been exercising his leg, now without a bandage and only a brace when he was out of bed. The leg lift machine in the physical therapy room was difficult, and he wanted to push through it, but Dean insisted he listen to the doctor. Tendon injuries weren't something to push too hard, even if it had been the recommended eight weeks since surgery.

But Cas was short on time. He knew what was coming. Dean didn't. And Cas hadn't told Sam yet either. Abaddon was going to start causing trouble, touching Dean, planning awful things, and Cas needed to be ready. It hadn't been fun for Cas to know that Abaddon had been so hands-on with Dean the first time around, but after being intimate with Dean for so long, he felt even more protective of him.

"I need to push through it," repeating the words Dean had said years ago when Sam had told him to take it slow.

"If you re-tear the tendon, you're gonna need surgery again," Dean warned. "Then you're gonna have to start over with the healing process."

Cas was frustrated, and in the years he'd been human, he'd come to terms with the fact that frustration meant emotion, and if he was pushed or let himself get even more upset, it meant an overload of emotion.

But Abaddon was coming. She wasn't going to wait for him to get better. Dean had pushed, so Cas could push too.

"I have to get better," Cas said, again quoting Dean. "I need to be able to fight."

"Fight what?" Dean said, crouching down in front of Cas. "We're laying low right now, so just focus on getting better, slowly building up the strength in your leg, and when you're ready, we'll get back to hunting."

"Leave me alone," Cas said through clenched teeth, then felt like shit when he saw the hurt in Dean's eyes.

"Okay, I'll wait in the car for you," Dean said as he gave him one last pat on his good leg and walked out.

Cas didn't want to be left alone. He wanted Dean there. He wanted Sam there. He wanted to be better. He wanted to kill Abaddon before she ever laid a finger on Dean.

"Ah!" Cas gasped as a flash of pain went up his leg, and suddenly he was terrified he'd re-injured his leg. But when he moved it again, gently lifting his leg with his hands, it was back to that low-level thrum of pain.

He flopped back against the machine, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he was anywhere but lying helpless in a physical therapy room. His eyes burned, his chest ached, and his leg hurt all the time.

That fucking monster had wrapped its scaly fingers around his knee, tossing him like a rag doll. The same thing it had done to Dean, tearing the tendon almost clean through. The doctors had said it was a miracle Dean hadn't lost the ability to walk because he hadn't sought help immediately, continued using it until he was sweating and shivering, until Sam had nearly thrown him in the car.

Cas had grown to love being human, but that was in a world with nothing supernatural, nothing but other humans threatening the ones he loved. Sitting on the leg lift machine, feeling helpless and useless, he wanted his grace back so badly he burned inside. If he had it he could do something. If he had it he could heal his fucking leg.

If he had it he wouldn't be lying on his back in a physical therapy room, trying to keep the tears from falling. He knew where it was, but he also knew that getting his grace back early would change things more than he already had.

"C'mon, sit up," Dean said.

Cas flinched, startled because he thought Dean had gone out to the car. He looked up at Dean with wide eyes, relief flooding through him when he saw the determined expression on Dean's face. He hadn't realized how much he wanted Dean to stay, how much he wanted the support. But Dean came back in for him. He was there.

"C'mon," Dean repeated. "We're gonna go slow, but we're not gonna give up until you beg."

Cas took Dean's hand, letting him help as he sat up and got back into position to use the leg lift. A part of Cas wanted to tell Dean he didn't need help, he didn't need Dean to be his coach, but most of him soaked up the care and concern of his husband. Dean wasn't that man yet, but they'd get there.

"One more before you give it a ten-second rest," Dean said after Cas had done five reps.

Cas was a mess by the time he told Dean he'd had enough, sweating and muscles shaky, but Dean never told him to stop. He made sure Cas took it slow, made sure Cas didn't strain or push too hard, but he didn't stop him.

"You did good," Dean said, smiling at him as he helped him out to the car.

Cas slept hard that night, exhausted from the workout, but he was hopeful in a way he hadn't been for a few weeks.

_____

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