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May 4th 1986
“Dean! Honey! Hurry up, dear.” Mary called for her son from the front porch of their house.
“Yes, mommy. I’m coming,” a six-year old Dean Winchester enthusiastically shouted an answer, hastily stumbling towards the door with his shoelaces undone.
“Are we really going there, mommy?” Dean continued to inquire, leaning against the doorframe to do up his shoes.
“Yes, dear.” Mary answered, smiling warmly at her son, a hand resting on her belly, where another boy was slowly coming to being. “Now please, hurry up, sweetheart.”
Beaming at his mother, the green-eyed boy quickly finished the task and skipped the rest his way to the car, all too eager to meet his parents’ new friends, the Novaks, who had just moved in across town.
Mary and Mrs. Novak immediately hit it off when she bumped into her while shopping for granny smiths to make Dean’s favorite honey glazed apple pie. And since the minute that he learned that they also had a son his age, Dean had been pestering his mom to come over to their house, excited at the prospect of making a new friend. So when Mary announced that they were finally paying them a visit, Dean was beyond ecstatic.
After fifteen solid minutes of Dean bouncing non-stop in his seat, they managed to pull into the driveway of a vintage-looking two story house with a coat of moss green paint. Standing in front of the wooden door, Dean’s enthusiasm didn’t seem to die down. If anything, it had grown tenfold, as his emerald eyes are now wide with incitement, shining with a luminescence rivaling that of the thrashing sun.
When the wooden door finally opened to reveal a brunette lady with an endearing smile on her lips, Dean beat both of the women to offering a polite greeting.
“Hello, Mrs. Novak. My name is Dean Winchester. It is very nice to meet you.”
Leaning down to Dean’s eye level, Mrs. Novak returned, smiling warmly at the boy.
“Why, aren’t you a gentleman. And a very cute one at that, too. It is also my great pleasure to meet you, dear. I bet you really want to hang out with my boy now, don’t you? Just head for the garden. He’s playing in there.”
At the invitation, Dean didn’t hesitate to make a dash through the long corridor and stumbled into said garden, having seemingly forgotten that he came here with his mom. Taking a look around the open ground, he could see well-tended bushes of rose in full bloom. The red of the petals contrasts sharply with the fresh green of the sepals, glowing under the scorching summer sunlight like miniature torches of flaring flames.
In the far back of the garden stood two colossal oaks, the sizes of which made Dean wonder how many people it would take to hug their trunks. However, the question didn’t linger on his mind for long, for he had spotted what, or rather who, he was here for. There he was, sitting on hammock hung between the two trees, legs swinging to and fro lightly. Although he had his back to Dean, the slouching of his shoulder brought it home to Dean that something was on his mind.
Not wanting his soon-to-be friend to be upset, Dean quickly thought out a plan to cheer him up. Creeping up behind the little boy, Dean tried to be as stealth as possible, placing his feet carefully to avoid dried up leaves on the ground. Unfortunately, as he was feet away from him, Dean accidentally stepped on a stray twig, snapping it in half. The crisp sound alerted the boy in front of him, causing him to turn around.
Eh, this is close enough. Dean thought before he decided to go ahead with his little plan.
“Boo!” Dean screamed.
But instead of the comical reaction he had expected, he was met with a pair of puzzled, yet calm blue eyes. They reminded him of the glistening water at the beach that his parents had taken him to a few weeks ago. Their beauty was beyond what any word in Dean’s fledgling vocabulary could have described, hypnotizing him rooted to the ground.
“Who are you?” Blue eyes asked, head tilting to the side, squinting lightly.
“Oh! My name is Dean Winchester. I am six years old. And I am here to be your friend. What is your name?” Dean chirped happily, standing up straight, arm stretched out to offer a handshake.
Looking at Dean’s outstretched hand curiously, the boy answered, “I’m Castiel Novak”
“Hello, Casteel… Castell… Cat… Can I call you Cas?” Dean proposed with a polite mile on his face, retracting his hand, seeing that he wouldn’t take the offer any time soon.
“Ok, sure…” Cas responded curtly, before returning his gaze to the ground beneath his dangling feet.
“What’s wrong, Cas? You seem sad.” Dean inquired, coming around to look at Cas’ downward face, his voice laced with sincere concern for his new friend.
“My parents wouldn’t let me play with bees because the lady doctor at the hospital said that I’m allergic to them.” Cas said, evidently distressed by the fact. His lower lip was pushed out slightly, forming a small pout.
“Bees? Why do you like bees? I think they are scary because mommy says that they sting you.” Dean couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the best of him.
“No, that’s not true.” Castiel insisted in all but too urgent tone. “The TV said that they only sting you when they are scared. And they are not scary. They are very cute. They are very colorful and they make this little buzzing sound when they fly. Oh! That too, they can fly. It’s amazing!” Finishing the sentence, Cas wasn’t staring at the ground anymore. He was looking up at Dean, eyes wide, grinning gleefully as though the mere mention of those yellow and black creatures were enough of an incentive to make him smile.
At Cas’ answer, Dean brought his forefinger to rest on his chin, his eyes looked up to one side and his brow knitted together in concentration, just like those men that he saw in the movies that Dad watched but wouldn’t allow him to.
“Hmm, fly, you say.” He hummed theatrically. “You know what, I can show you how to fly like those bees.”
“Really? You know how to fly?” Cas almost leaped off from the havoc like his legs were spring loaded, blue eyes gazing into Dean’s green ones expectantly.
“Of course, I do. I saw Batman do it in the movie. It is very easy.” Dean smiled somewhat smugly. “First of all, we need to find a high place.”
“Is my room high enough?” Cas asked, finger pointing at the second window from the left on the second floor.
“Yes, definitely. Let’s go! I’m going to teach you how to fly.”
That was the story of how Dean was put in crutches for six months, and was banned from seeing Batman movies or any superheroes movies for that matter. But it was all worth it, for that was how Dean met Castiel Novak, the person whom he was lucky enough to call his best friend.
May 4th 1998
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years.
Time kept on elapsing as the budding friendship between Dean and Castiel grew into something so much more, much stronger and more profound. It took roots deep in their hearts and souls, transforming from a fragile seedling to an old-growth tree, like those under which they first met. Dean was confident that nothing in this vast universe was capable of debunking this sacred bond they shared. But, maybe, that was where he was wrong.
High school. The same place, the same period of time, yet it could mean two wildly different things. Either it was the glorious kingdom where people worshipped the very ground on which you trod or it was the forever scarring memory perpetually haunting at the back of your mind.
Dean was lucky enough to enjoy the former. Being the best quarterback ever in the history of Shurley’s High, with a handsome face and a body that his so-called fan girls had dubbed as “sculpted by the hand of the almighty Zeus”, Dean was the school’s golden boy. Everyone loved and adored him. The girls were lining up for him and the guys couldn’t help but wish they were him.
His best friend, Castiel, however, wasn’t fortunate enough to have the same fate. He was an easy target for bullies. It wasn’t that he was weak or lanky, it was that he was only 5’6”. And the fact that he was considered a “nerd” because he was the most intelligent student at the school and also the president of the chess club didn’t help either.
But Dean didn’t give those uneducated jerks any chance of jumping Cas as he had taken it upon himself to be his bodyguard. Anyone who just as much as looked at Cas funny would have to deal with him. In fact, even though it may sound odd, Dean quite enjoyed this arrangement since it meant spending more time with Cas and it made his heart swell with immense pride knowing he was someone who could protect him, make him feel safe.
Anywhere Cas went, at any given time, if it was possible, Dean would be right next to Cas, looking out for any potential threat, all the while playfully teasing his smaller friend. But that was the problem. Dean was only there whenever it was possible, not always.
Walking down the empty hallway, Dean was overjoyed. Today was a special day. Twelve years ago, on this very day, Dean met Cas for the first time. And since then, it had become their tradition to celebrate their little anniversary. It might seem weird to others, but they very much cherished these moments, for they were utterly pure and platonic. Yet, sometimes, Dean caught himself wondering if it could be more.
Steadily pacing down the uncharacteristically silent corridor, Dean felt strange as if something was out of its place, missing. Or perhaps, it was someone.
Damn it! CAS! He had forgotten about Cas. Normally, they had the Biology together as their last class on Monday but Dean had recently been failed and was forced to take another class, which happened to be Economics, which was unfortunately at the opposite end of the school.
Bolting towards the direction of Cas, Dean kept on mentally chanting, hoping that no one had gotten to him yet. Because if someone had then God help them. Making a sharp turn at the corner, Dean was met with an unpleasant scene.
Cas was standing with his back pressed flat against the tile wall, visibly shaken, his eyes cast downwards as if too afraid to look up. Before him were five guys who Dean had the displeasure to call teammates. They were slowly closing in on Cas, some cracking their knuckles to intimidate their agitated victim. One face in particular caught Dean’s attention and made his blood boil, Bartholomew.
Since the very moment Cas laid his first step into this school, it seemed Bartholomew had made it his lifelong mission to make Cas’ life a hell on Earth. But since Cas, as the benevolent saint that he was, had asked him not to do anything in retaliation, Dean had so far refrained from beating the living daylight out of him. Instead, he had recourse to simply asking him to stay clear of Cas in the most civilized manner he could muster, which meant dirty looks and profanities.
But this. This was the last straw. Striding towards to them, Dean kept his clenched fists by his sides, ready to swing them across the bastard’s face.
“Hey! Get away from him!” Dean roared angrily, making them all jump back in shock and fear, except for Bartholomew, who simply turned around and flashed him an bratty smirk, prompting him to swipe it straight off his face as forcefully as possible.
“Oh, hi there, Dean-o. What are-”
“Do not call me that. Get away from him.” Dean cut him short, each word emphasized clearly, holding a dangerously low tone.
“Don’t worry about him, buddy. Little Cas and I are just having some good old fun. Right, Cas?” Bartholomew turned to look at Cas with a textbook smile, yet the glint in his eyes resembled that of a cold-blooded predator.
“Besides, why would you care about him, Dean? He is just a stupid, wimpy nerd. Oh, and get this, he’s a fag. Did you know that?” Bartholomew asked, now looking at Dean smugly.
“He’s a stupid, disgusting little f-”
Barth didn’t have the chance to finish his rant as Dean had lurched forward and caught him by his collar. He leaned back, putting his entire weight on his left foot before twisting his body to gain momentum and punching him square in his face in full force. A spine chilling crack signified that his nose had been broken, making Dean smirk in satisfaction.
Stumbling to the ground, hands clasped around his face, Barth stuttered, “Wha- What the…”
“I’ve told you many times, Barth. And I will tell you one last time,” Dean interrupted. “Stay away from Cas. Next time, if you as much as look at Cas’ way, which I hope for your sake would not happen, there will be so much more waiting for you than just punches.”
“Understood?” Dean said coldly, eyes fixed on Bartholomew, who nodded frantically in fear, all the while struggling to regain his balance.
“Now, get lost. All of you.” Dean commanded with his most authoritative tone, galvanizing the group into scurrying off hurriedly.
When they were satisfactorily out of sight, Dean took one step to close the distance between himself and his best friend.
Hand grasped firmly onto Cas’ shoulder, eye searching for the familiar blue that was hidden behind the downward gaze and elegantly long lashes, Dean began his check-up, “Are you alright, Cas? They didn’t do anything to hurt you, did they?”
“I-I’m fine, Dean. They didn’t do anything.” Cas answered in a hushed whisper, still refusing to meet Dean’s worried look.
Dean let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. relief washing over him, allowing his muscles to relax. However, they soon tensed once again as a new wave of anger hit him.
“Why did you do that? You should have waited for me. I have already told you not to leave by yourself. What the hell were you thinking, Cas?” Dean demanded accusingly, brows knitted together in aggravation.
The sheer volume of his voice made Cas flinch slightly, but just enough to cause Dean’s anger to quickly disseminate, drawing another sigh from him. Forefinger now rested under Cas’ chin, he gently lifted his face and repeated the question, but in a subdued tone, eyes locking with Cas’ turquoise pair.
“Cas, why did you do it?”
Hesitantly, Cas started his explanation, “I-I saw a bee…”
“What?” Dean asked, perplexed.
“I saw a bee. He was trapped inside the classroom so I let him out into the hallway. But I realized that he would, then, probably be stuck out there. That’s why I decided to try and guide him out into the schoolyard. Why are you laughing, Dean?” Cas inquired, at a loss to comprehend, head tilted to the side, cheeks slightly reddened.
Shaking his head in amusement, Dean tried to repressed his resounding laughter, “Cas, how can I stay mad at you if you keep acting like that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” Cas asked in a guilt-ridden voice, looking down at the floor once again.
“Oh, come here, you!” Dean said, pulling Cas into a tight embrace. “You, Cas, surely are something special. Don’t ever change, okay?”
“Okay…” Cas answered softly, a gratifying smile etched onto his chapped lips, which were now pressed against Dean’s broad chest.
“So are we still up for tonight?” Dean asked, looking down at his best friend now that they had parted from the hug.
“Of course! I’ll come over at eight.” Cas answered matter-of-fact-ly, flashing a gummy grin that Dean had grown to love.
~*~*~*~
Glancing at the silly cuckoo clock that his mom thought “gives the house a retro vibe”, Dean thought to himself, tapping his foot nervously, ‘Cas will be here any minute now.’
They had done this before. It was their twelfth anniversary, for God’s sake. Yet, Dean couldn’t help but be anxious, just as he had always been prior to any of their supposed “date”. He always tried his best to make the night as enjoyable for Cas as possible. Even if that meant spending the entire evening sitting through a poetry session, despite the fact that Dean had never understood poems.
It was all worth it to see Cas’ glowing smile, though. But, today, Cas had told Dean not to do anything big, and that he just wanted to hang out at his house because he had “something important” to tell him.
“Will you cut it out, Dean?”
The voice of his twelve-year-old brother, Sam, broke Dean’s trance, drawing his attention to the incessant tapping of his foot.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sammy.”
“Just relax, Dean. You guys have been friends for twelve years. I’m sure whatever it is he wants to tell you, it’s nothing bad.” Sam said, looking dearly at his older brother.
“Yeah,” Dean answered, willing himself to believe Sam’s words, his head hanging low, his shoulders slouched under invisible weight.
The sudden ring of the doorbell had Dean on his feet in a split second, striding ferociously towards the door, but not before he caught Sam’s gleeful “Enjoy!” and the knowing look on his face, as though he had just uncovered the secret of the universe. But then again, he probably had, it was Sam, the smartest person Dean knew, apart from Cas, who was waiting on his front porch.
Stalling to still his beating heart, Dean opened the door only to realize that his previous attempt was gratuitous, for his heart halted to a complete stop at the sight before him. There stood Cas, who was shifting from one foot to another, seemingly abashed, in spite of his having been here countless times before. He was wearing a pair of black fitting jeans and a superman t-shirt, which was perhaps a size too big for him, making it hanging loosely off his shoulders, showing off his collar bones and the smooth sun kissed skin of his neck.
“Hello, Dean”
His gravel-like voice caused Dean to lift his gaze to meet a pair of sapphire eyes, which were crinkling because of the wide smile present on his plush lips. Contrasting sharply with the brightness of his eyes was the jet black of the messy mop he called hair. The strands were sticking in every direction, giving him a disheveled, yet oddly… alluring look.
“Hi, Cas. Please, come in,” Dean offered, wearing a dumbfounded grin, stepping to the side to allow Cas to step inside.
Now sitting in the living room, Cas was utterly quiet and Dean was nervously fiddling with his fingers as a rare blanket of awkwardness fell on them.
Breaking the unusually silence, Dean asked “So, what did you want to tell me, Cas?”
When Cas finally turned to look at Dean with wide eyes, he could almost saw the gears turning in Cas’ brain. His hesitation only served to further addle Dean.
“Let’s talk about something else first.” Cas suggested, eyes now fixated on the wall behind Dean rather than him. He added “Let’s talk about you.”
“Oh… Okay, sure. Shoot.” Dean nodded in agreement.
“Well, we’re graduating soon. So which university are you applying for?” Castiel asked.
“I’m thinking about the state college, you know, to be close to home.” Dean answered nonchalantly, which had Cas looking at Dean once again, genuinely shocked.
“What!? Why? I thought you wanted to be an architect.”
“Well, like I said, it’s closer to home. Besides, I don’t think any of the good ones would accept me. I’m not that smart, you know.” Dean said, his voice gradually smaller. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his best friend any longer as shame took over him.
“Dean.” Cas said softly, but he didn’t reply.
“Dean,” he repeated, moving closer to his friend.
“Hey, listen,” Cas laid one hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly while the other tightly grasped Dean’s own palm. “You are the most talented person I have ever met. It truly escapes me why you ever doubt your ability. Don’t undermine yourself like that. Aim high and shoot, Dean.”
Turning to meet Cas’ gaze, Dean was greeted with a warm smile and sincere eyes. He had no idea what he had done to be lucky enough to have someone like Cas. Though he might not know it, Cas had helped him through much hardship by simply staying by his side. He was one of the few people that saw more in him than just a pretty face. He was his anchor, his life-support that kept him afloat in the midst of the stormy ocean. He was his angel.
“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked quietly, still holding Cas’ warm hand in his own. “What are you going to do?”
At the question, Cas hesitated, seeming to be debating with himself. “I… I’m going to stop lying. I won’t lie anymore.”
“What do you mean? You never lie, Cas.” Dean asked, failing to understand what he meant.
“I do have something to tell you, Dean.” Cas let out a shaky breath and continued. “But promise me, you won’t get angry, okay?”
“Of course. I promise,” Dean assured.
“I’m… gay.”
The word came out almost inaudible. If it weren’t for the fact that the room was void of any sound but their own breathing and Dean was paying full attention to Cas, he wouldn’t have heard it.
“Cas,” Dean said carefully. “If you’re afraid that I would hate you for that then don’t be. It makes no difference to me. You’re still Cas. You’re still the one for whom I broke my leg trying to fly, the one who dragged me into the forest in the middle of the night to follow a bee, only to be chased by the whole hive because you tried to take it down to bring it home. But most importantly, you are still the greatest person with the most giving heart I ever know. I am still and will always be your friend, Cas. Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas said, smiling but sadness was obvious in his voice. “But that’s not what I want to tell you. Well, not everything.”
“What is it, then? Whatever it may be, I promise you everything I’ve said still holds true.”
“I…like you, Dean… A lot.”
The words slipped off Cas’ lips, sinking like a rock that had been pressing down on his chest for an eternity. It brought in its wake a zeitgeist of deafening silence. The air was dense and suffocating, causing Dean’s breath to catch in his throat.
Cas was completely still, apart from his shaking hands and quivering lips pursed in a straight line. His eyes were shut tight, hiding away the beautiful shade of blue. He was afraid. And Dean didn’t like it. Dean didn’t like the idea of Cas being afraid in his presence. Dean was his body guard, his protector. He was supposed to make Cas feel safe and secure.
“Cas,” Dean murmured, bringing up both hand to cradle Cas’ warming cheeks. “Please look at me.”
But Cas only shook his head, eyes remained closed.
“Please, Cas,” Dean urged, leaning in.
This time Cas opened his eyes, but ever so slowly, revealing a pair of shimmering emerald marbles. But they were red at the rims, due to threatening tears.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas breathed out shakily, a drop of hot tear rolled down Cas’ face, leaving a wet trail on his flushed cheek.
“Shh…” Dean hushed, his forehead now resting on Cas’. Their noses were almost touching, each bated breath heatedly fanning each other’s face. Dean’s own green eyes followed the path of the tear, only to linger on Cas’ lips. Dean had always thought they were far too feminine and inviting for a man. But somehow, it fitted Cas perfectly.
Maybe, you should taste it, a small voice in his head suggested. He won’t be mad. He has just told you he liked you. C’mon.
Before his rationality had a chance to put in its two cents, his body was moving on its own accord, closing the small gap separating them, his eyes still fixed on Cas’ lush lips.
“Dean,…” Cas said, but was stopped mid-sentence. Dean’s lips were pressing against him, sealing his tight.
The kiss was innocent enough, just skin against skin, motionless and austere. But Dean could feel Cas tensing, regardless of his closed eyes. Wanting to sooth his friend, Dean began to move gingerly.
He opened his mouth slightly and so did Cas, albeit defiantly. However, his jaws soon went slacked, moving pliantly. Together, their lips danced in a new-found but passionate rhythm. Cas’ chapped pair were smooth and soft, resembling that of a woman, but were rough just enough to remind Dean that he was kissing his best friend. They felt like well-woven silk sheets encasing Dean in immense warmth, featherily tickling his own lips, drawing him out, teasing him, making him yearn for more.
Caving in to the temptation, Dean dared to dart out his tongue, tentatively lapping at Cas’ lower lip, asking for entrance, a request to which he quickly assented. Given the golden chance, Dean eagerly explored the new territory, discovering and feeling every canal and corner of his best friend. Cas tasted like the mint breath freshener that he had undoubtedly used.
Cas was like that, he always tried to look, and apparently taste, his best for their anniversaries. And now, Dean knew why. But there was also something else drawing Dean deeper into the kiss. A natural and heavenly sweetness that seemed peculiar to Cas. It reminded him of the pecan pie that Cas once attempted to bake for him on his tenth birthday. It wasn’t perfect, but it remained the most delicious slice of baking Dean had ever had.
All of that, however, paled in comparison with what Dean had the privilege to experience next. When his tongue met with Cas’ heated and velvety one, he was sent into another universe, a world of utter beauty and pure bliss. It was as though up to that very point, everything, everyone he had ever touched, ever felt was through a dull veil, and the simple contact had graced him with renewed senses, much clearer, bordering on blinding. Each brush of their tongues sent spasm coursing the entirety of his body, causing his heart to rocket, his synapses to explode in sheer pleasure.
His eyes still close, Dean could feel Cas’ fingers running in his dirty blond locks, surely turning his hair into a mess, while his other hand was clutching tightly to his bicep. The grip was strong, and Dean was certain that Cas’ nails had left a few scratches. But for some reasons, he wished Cas would just dig right through his skin. It was like a monster that had long been caged deep inside Dean had broken free. And now, it was demanding its host to satisfy its insatiable appetite for the touch of Cas.
In response to its outcry, Dean found himself moving his hand along Cas’ defined jaw, down to the skin of his smooth neck, gliding over his sinful collar bones until he reached the rough material at the hem of his shirt. His fingers continued their venture up Cas’ lean stomach, grazing the heated skin and tracing the faint outline of his abs.
Amidst of the dulcet kiss, Dean caught Cas’ alluring lip between his teeth and bit down softly on the plump flesh. The slight pressure caused Cas to moaned loudly in pleasure, prompting a low growl from Dean.
The almost animalistic sound of immeasurable lust caught Dean off guard. It gracelessly snapped him out of the blissful daze of the kiss. And reality came crashing down on him.
He kissed Cas.
Jerking back abruptly, Dean broke the kiss and shot up, pushing Cas down on the sofa in the process. Cas’ face was now holding an expression of utter surprise and something that resembled hurt. But Dean didn’t dwell on it for long, as he immediately turned his back to him the moment he was on his feet.
He kissed Cas. A dude. And he liked it. This was wrong.
“Dean,” Cas said hesitantly from behind him. “Is everything alright?”
The frail tone of Cas made Dean want to turn around to wrap him in his arms, tell him that everything is fine and kiss him again to soothe his worry. And it only served to further anger Dean.
He wasn’t gay. This was wrong. It was just a mistake. He was just confused. He didn’t want to kiss Cas.
Then why did you?
The question hung over Dean’s head like a gravel ready to squish him at any moment and he found it extremely infuriating. In the apoplectic haze, Dean turned on his heel to face Cas and barked out.
“No! Everything is not alright.”
Dean’s sudden outburst seemed to thoroughly confused Cas as his too-blue eyes were now wide with shock. Good, that makes two of them.
“Everything is not alright and it’s your fault.”
“M-my fault?” Cas asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, it’s your fault, Cas. You just had to come here and say that you liked me. Why did you do that? It ruined everything. So yes, it’s you fucking fault. You know what. Maybe, Barth was right. Maybe, you’re just a disgusting little faggot.”
Dean hollowed, blinded by unreckonable fury. But as soon as the word left his lips, regret draped over him, weighing down on his shoulders. Cas didn’t respond this time. The pain was fragrant on his features and his eyes had welled up again. Dean wanted to rush to his side to hold him and tell him that he didn’t mean it and that he was sorry. But the heavy guilt in the pit of his stomach rooted him to the ground, as a veil of silence fell between.
“Dean,” Cas said slowly, standing up from the sofa. His mouth opened as if to say something, his hands twitching by his side as if wanting to reach out to Dean, who was anxiously waiting for Cas to say something. Anything. But nothing ever came. Neither the words nor the touch. Instead, Cas just left quietly, but not before sending in Dean’s way a pained look that made him hate himself even more than he already did.
No, stay! Please! I’m sorry ! Please, don’t leave me, Cas! Dean wanted to scream. He wanted to run after Cas and pull him into a hug to stop him. He wanted to do something, anything, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. Remorse, anger and hatred for himself rendered him paralyzed. He could only follow Cas with his green eyes as he disappeared behind the wall and listened as the front door closed.
When he finally snapped out of it and realized what he had done, he sprinted after him, turning sharply at the corner before grabbing the door handle and ripping it open.
“Cas!” Dean shouted loudly, eyes frantically searching the dark street for Cas’ silhouette but he was nowhere in sight. Closing the door behind him, Dean could feel the guilt eating away at him inside.
As he turned a round, he caught sight of a familiar pair of feet standing at the foot of staircase. Sammy was standing there in his pajamas, looking at Dean intently. His long hair was dishevelled like he had just woken from a sleep. Instead of the sleepy glaze Dean expected to see in his eyes, they were gazing at him with sympathy and something that, though unclear, seemed like disappointment. It caused Dean to cast his eyes downward at the wooden floor, unable to bear the shame.
He had messed up. And this time, there was no fixing it. He had hurt Cas. And he would never forgive himself.
May 4th 2015
Opening his eyes, Dean found himself in a blindingly white room that appeared to stretch out boundlessly. The place was vacant with no furniture, nothing and no one in sight. That was until he spotted someone standing motionlessly at the far end. Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean began to move towards the mysterious figure.
But something didn’t feel right. He was moving forward but it felt like he was walking on air, his feet never touching anything and his steps were utterly soundless.
As he got closer, he could make out that it was a man dressed in a hospital robe and he had his back to him. His short brunette hair was unkept, sticking out in every direction in such a way that seemed strangely familiar to Dean. When he was finally sure that he was within earshot, Dean spoke up, “Hey, dude! Where is this place?”
But against his expectation for an answer, the man didn’t respond, nor did he turn around.
“Hey, buddy?” Dean tried again, but still no response.
Determined to get an answer, Dean walked up to the man and put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to get an answer. And at last, he moved, slowly turning around, which made the corner of Dean’s lips curve upwards in satisfaction. But his smirk were wiped off his face by what he saw next.
Castiel. It was his Castiel. He was standing there, staring up at Dean, his eyes crinkling with a toothy grin on his chapped lips.
“Ca-Cas,” Dean stammered, eyes fixated on his old friend. “Cas, is that you?”
“Hello, Dean.” Cas answered, the grin still tugging at his lips.
Dean’s own lips also slowly formed into a small smile, as he let out a disbelieving breath.
Suddenly, he could hear the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of leaves and the whistling of a cool breeze. Willing himself to tear his gaze away from Cas, he saw that he wasn’t in the white room anymore. He was in a garden. No, he was in the garden, where he and Cas first met. The enormous oaks between which hung a hammock were there. The beautiful bushes of rose were there. Everything was exactly how Dean remembered them to be. And it made Dean’s smile widen.
But soon, he lips fell again, as the familiar feeling of guilt washed over him.
“Cas, I-I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I yelled at you. I-” Dean fussed, eyes not meeting Cas’. But he was cut short by Cas’ hand which was now resting his cheek. His palm was featherlike and surreal, yet surprising warm against his skin.
“Dean,” Cas said, his voice soft and endearing. His almost too blue eyes looked up at Dean’s leaf ones with such adoration and love that Dean knew he didn’t deserve.
“Dean,” Cas repeated.
But this time it was different. The love, the adoration, the softness, they had evaded his voice. Instead, it was choked up, filled with confusion and pain. Like the last time Cas said his name. His teal eyes were bloodshot, prickling with hot agonized tears.
All of a sudden, Dean felt the ground under his feet shaking. No, they were breaking apart, revealing the melting hot magma hidden under. The gentle draught had turned into strong gusts of wind howling by Dean’s ears. The rose bushes had withered to dust and the oaks before him were blazing angrily, the flame spiraling up in the blowing gales.
But as soon as the hellish sight appeared, they all vanished. In a blink of an eye, Dean was traversed into a realm of pitch black nothingness. There was nothing in sight, no fire, no tree, no garden and no Cas. There was not a single sound, everything was dead quiet. Yet, the silence was louder than any sound he has ever hear, it was deafening.
“Cas,” Dean screamed, but his call was met with utter silence.
“Cas,” he tried again, but this time the word failed to even leave his tongue as his air supply was suddenly cut. It felt as though something had coiled itself around his throat, suffocating him. And it refused to let go despite his hysterical thrashing and kicking.
~*~*~*~
“Cas!” Dean shot up, his eyes wide open in terror, hands searching frantically in the dark in an desperate attempt to locate himself. Bedroom, he soon realized when he felt the silky material of his sheet. He was in his bedroom, safe in his own house. It was just a dream. Real and frightening, but a dream nonetheless.
When his erratic heart beat had finally settled, Dean saw that his pillow had been flung across the room and it must have knocked over the table lamp in the process, seeing that it was lying on the ground, broken in pieces. Tossing the cover off, Dean slightly gasped as the cool air of the room came into contact with his damp shirt, which was clinging to his sweaty skin. Looking at the clock to see it was six in the morning, Dean decided to head for a shower with a view to soothing his stiff muscles.
The scalding hot beads drummed gently on his freckled skin, leaving a gratifyingly burning trial as they fell to the bathroom tiles. As Dean had expected, they succeeded in relieving the tension in his shoulders. However, his head was still strained with one pressing question. Why?
The last time he met Cas was at Jess and Sam’s wedding. Although they didn’t talk, mainly because Dean was too much of a coward to come up to him, he did find out through Sam that Cas was doing quite well as a therapist and had apparently gotten over the “incident” as he had so gently put it. So why was he dreaming about Cas now? Why did it end like that? Why?
The question kept racing to and fro in his mind, driving him to the brink of insanity. He didn’t notice how long he had been standing under the stream of water until it started to run cold, causing goosebumps to stand on his skin. Stepping out of the shower, Dean willed himself to stop thinking about Cas although he know any effort would be futile.
When he was changing into his suit to get ready for work, the sudden ringing of his phone startled him. Discarding his blouse carelessly on the ground, Dean moved to answer the call.
“Hello?” Dean said, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Hello, is this Dean Winchester?” said a female voice, the unfamiliarity of which caused Dean to remove the phone from its position to look at the screen, which read “No caller ID”
Curious as to who it could be on the other end of the line, Dean continued cautiously, “Yes, it’s Dean. Who am I speaking to?”
“Oh, thank God,” the voice said again, sighing in obvious relief. “My name is Charlie Bradbury.”
The name had Dean’s brows knitter together, as he raked his memory for a Charlie that he knew. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you. How did you get my number anyway?”
“How I got your number doesn’t matter,” the voice, Charlie, answered curtly. “And that you don’t know me doesn’t matter either. What matters is that I know someone that you do.” She paused before continuing, “Castiel Novak.”
At the mention of the name, Dean’s heart seemed to stop beating, his breath suddenly insufficient and shallow. Who was this woman and what was her relationship with Cas, his Cas? Was she his wife? Dean knew that it was highly unlikely so, but the thought still stung. Was it possible that he had hurt Cas so much that he had scared him back into the closet?
“What is with Cas? And how do you know him?” Dean asked, surprised by the sudden surge of protectiveness in his voice.
“Woah, easy there tiger. I’m just his friend.” Charlie joked, her soft giggling could be heard through the speaker.
“But there’s something you need to know about Cas.” She said in a grim tone, much different from the lighthearted one she used earlier.
The drastic shift made Dean’s nerves sharpen in awareness. “What is it? Did something happen to him? Is he okay?” he all but rushed the questions in one breath, demanding for an answer.
“That’s the thing. Cas, he is sick… really sick. I don’t think he-” Charlie paused again. It was as if saying the next words was too much for her.
“I don’t think he’s going to make it.”
May 4th 2016
Standing before the old house, Dean noticed that the layer of moss green paint had been pared away by years of corrosion, leaving patches of bare wood susceptible to the destruction of nature. The gravel pathway leading to the wooden porch, which had now partly rotted, had been swallowed wholly by overgrown grass. The windows on the second floor was broken, hanging loosely from their panes. It was probably one of those bratty kids Dean saw rushing by earlier that had been throwing rocks at them.
But, however derelict and abandoned, to Dean, the house was more beautiful than even the grandest mansion, for it held within its stripped paint, its rotting plates of wood and its broken sheets of glass the memories that Dean kept locked away safely, only to be brought out when he felt the longing was to much to withhold. The memories that were currently causing his stomach to sink and his chest to tighten.
It had been one year. One year, and as he expected, the agonizing emptiness inside him hadn’t faded in the least bit. So instead of trying to get rid of it, he had learned to be at peace with it, to get used to the immutable pain that stabbed at his heart in his every waking moment and that plagued his every dream as he laid his head to sleep. One year, and it still felt like it was just yesterday that he lost Cas.
~*~*~*~
After Charlie hung up, it was as if Dean was moving on autopilot. The only thought in his mind was to get to Cas as fast as possible. Shoving a few random pieces of clothing into a duffle bag, Dean rushed out of the door. He all but intended to run to the airport before stopping mid-way to catch a cab when he realized how absurd the idea was.
The flight only lasted two hours but the weight heavy on his shoulders dragged it on infinitely. His head was strewn with bitter sweet memories of them together and the sour regret he had harbored for himself for years. Once he had landed, Dean didn’t even bother checking into a hotel. If Cas was really dying, then he didn’t want to waste precious minutes on stupid tasks. He could stay at the hospital if he had to. In fact, that would be great. More time to be with Cas. His Cas.
Walking through the door, Dean went to the reception where a woman in her late forties was typing away on her computer.
“I’m here to see Castiel Novak, please.” Dean said, willing his voice to not waver.
The woman typed something on the keyboard before handing him a piece of paper with the room number on it and giving the direction.
Following her instruction, Dean walked into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. Looking down at the piece of paper in his hand, the corner of his lips twitched up in a smile. 504. The day they first met. They were so innocent then. Carefree and happy. What happened to them?
You happened.
A voice at the back of his head scolded disapprovingly. His shoulders drooped further as a wave of shame thrashed at him.
The elevator door opened with a bing and Dean stepped out. Walking down the hallway, his eyes searched for the number before his feet came to a stop at the white door with shining metal numbers on it that read 504.
Hand placed on the handle, his mind was riling, his heart beating wildly. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself down, Dean found the action rather counterproductive. The pungent smell of medicine and iodoform disinfectant only served to remind him where he was and what he was here for.
Sighing in defeat, Dean mustered up the courage needed to push open the door, which seemed oddly heavy at the time. When it finally creaked open, Dean was met with a red-haired girl who was staring back at Dean with curiosity in her eyes before something finally dawned on her.
Standing up to approach Dean, she gave him a sad smile, “Hello. You must be Dean Winchester.”
“Yes. And you must be Charlie Bradbury,” Dean answered, but he didn’t look at her. His eyes had found their way to settle on the sleeping figure on the bed in the middle of the room. It was Cas, but not how Dean wanted to see him. Dean didn’t want to see his Cas with tubes attached to him, a mask over his face and lying there limply on the defining line of reality and unconsciousness.
Following Dean’s gaze, Charlie turned around to look at her friend and spoke, “He’s not doing so well. The doctor can’t say exactly how long he has left. But they say that it is best to prepare for the worst.”
“But you said he only had throat cancer,” Dean said a touch too loudly, agitated for no discernible reason.
“Yes, but it is spreading and fast,” Charlie said, eyes still fixated on Cas, her voice strained.
“I’ll leave him to you for now,” She said, facing Dean now. Her eyes were red, on the verge of tears. “Don’t you try and steal him, okay? I’ll be right back.” She teased, but the sadness never left her voice.
Taking tentative steps further into the room, Dean’s eyes examined Cas closely.
He was much thinner than he remembered, his cheeks hollowing in. The dark circles under his eyes stood out against his sallow skin, unlike the healthy sun kissed complexion that Dean once had the chance to run his fingers over. His brunette hair was standing up and sticking out as usual, but somehow they looked greasy and untended. Everything about him screamed terminally ill, yet Dean still found him effortlessly beautiful.
Dean tried to be as quiet as possible when he sat down at the chair beside the bed. But apparently not quiet enough, because when he had finally settled down, he noticed that Cas had opened his eyes and was now staring at Dean. The blue in his eyes was still there. It was still vibrant, warm and mesmerizing. And Dean soon found himself willingly drowning in those miniature oceans.
“Hello, Cas. Did I wake you?” Dean tried, a crooked smile made its way to Dean’s lips.
At his question, Cas’ eyes widened in surprise, glowing brighter than before.
“Dean… Is it really you?” Cas wheezed, and from the look on his face, painfully.
He moved to prop himself on the bed but struggled to do so. Dean quickly rushed to his side, one hand on the back of his neck, the other holding Cas’. His once elegant but now uncharacteristically boney fingers wrapped around Dean’s palm tightly.
“Don’t push yourself, Cas. Just relax,” Dean coaxed and helped him lie down again.
He didn’t move away when Cas had finally settled on the bed. Instead, he remained kneeling on the floor beside him, both hands now clasped over Cas’ smaller palm as he continued to stare at Dean for what felt like an eternity. His eyes graced over every feature meticulously as if searching for his long lost treasure.
“What are you looking at me for, dork?” Dean attempted to crack a joke, but his voice gave out and cracked at the end of the sentence.
“You came… I didn’t think-” Cas tried to speak but failed as a horrid coughing fit caused his face to screw up in pain.
Moving a hand to his chest to soothe him, Dean said softly, “Of course, I came. Don’t you know what day it is. It’s our anniversary, remember?”
“Yes… Anniversary… I remember…” From behind the mask on his nose, Dean could see Cas’ lips curve up in the familiar gummy smile.
“Good.” Dean said, his voice wavering as he fought back tears. But they still fell, rolling down Dean’s cheeks and landed on their intertwined hands.
Cas squeezed his palm weakly, causing Dean to meet his earnest gaze.
“Please, Dean… Don’t cry… I don’t want you to cry. I want you to smile.”
“Okay, Cas. I’ll smile.” Dean answered shakily, forcing himself to smile for Cas. He pulled Cas’ palm to his lips and placed a soft kiss on it. “See, Cas. I’m smiling.”
Slowly, Cas wriggle his fingers out Dean’s grip to wipe away his tears, and rest on his stubbled cheeks. His touch was hot and familiar on Dean’s skin.
“Dean… I know… you blame yourself... but don’t.” Cas smiled before beginning again. “It wasn’t your fault… You were scared and I understand… I don’t blame you… I don’t hate you for it… So don’t hate yourself for it, okay?” Cas’ hand found Dean’s again and squeezed lightly.
“Okay... Okay, Cas” Dean said, placing another kiss on Cas’ palm, his eyes closed tightly to stop the tears.
Silence fell over them once again as Cas looked at Dean like he meant the whole world to him and stroked his palm leisurely, humming contently every now and again.
“Kiss me,” Cas finally spoke.
“What?” Dean asked disbelievingly, thinking that he was hallucinating.
“Kiss me, Dean. Please” Cas repeated, the corner of his eyes crinkling due his small smile.
“O-okay?” Dean stammered out an affirmation but it sounded more like a question.
Moving to stand up from the ground, Dean reached out to remove his mask.
“May I?” he asked for permission.
Cas nodded in response. Dean lifted it from his face and leaned in slowly. His eyes scanning his face like they were trying to register that figure for the last time. Cas’ lips were full like Dean remembered but they were dry and cracked. Yet, they were still inviting enough that Dean found himself diving in faster.
When their lips finally met, it was like coming home. The sensation was exactly like the first time they kiss. For a moment, albeit brief, he was at peace. For a moment, he didn’t break Cas’ heart all those years ago. For a moment, Cas wasn’t on his death bed and they weren’t sharing their first kiss in decades and probably their last kiss ever. For a moment, they weren’t hurting. For a moment, they were just being.
Finally pulling away from the chaste but deeply intimate kiss, Dean rushed the mask back on Cas’ face, afraid that he was hurting having to breathe without the aid of the medical ventilator.
“How was it?” Dean asked jokingly, looking warmly down at Cas, who was smiling widely at him, his eyes twinkling like constellations on the night sky.
“Perfect.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help. Just ask me anytime.” Dean laughed a real laugh for the first time in what felt like forever.
The deep, rumpling sound of it bounced the cold tile wall of the hospital, prompting Cas’ grin to grow wider. But his smile was soon replaced by a pained expression when another coughing fit caught up with him. Dean quickly placed a hand on his chest, rubbing in soothing circles to try and take the pain away somehow. It didn’t work. This time, there was something different from the last. The coughs seemed prolonged and more strained, almost like they were punched out of him.
When the violent episode ended, specks of spittle and blood were stuck to the corner of his mouth. Dean promptly picked up the box of tissues on the nearby nightstand and removed the mask again to dab lightly at his lips.
“Hmm… Dean, I’m so sleepy,” Cas whispered, looking in Dean’s way but not really looking at him. His eyes were dazed and distant.
Dean would have done anything he could to make sure that Cas could sleep soundly if it hadn’t been for the fact that something was tugging at the pit of his stomach. Call it instinct or intuition. But something about the way Cas said it led Dean to believe that if he let Cas sleep now, he would not wake up.
“No, no. Cas, look at me. Don’t sleep just yet. I just got here. Why don’t you keep me company for a while longer, huh?” Dean coaxed sweetly, holding back prickling tears, arms wrapping around Cas’ torso, shaking him lightly.
“But… I’m so tired, Dean,” Cas argued quietly, his eyes now hooded.
“Please, Cas. Stay awake for me. Just a bit longer. We’ll kiss again. How about that? Please don’t go to sleep, Cas,” Dean pleaded, no longer minding the hot trail trickling down his face.
“Uhm…” Cas mumbled incoherently, before reaching up with his cooling fingers to palm Dean’s cheek.
“Goodbye, Dean,” he whispered.
His body went limb in Dean’s embrace. His blue eyes began to lose its brilliance, turning to a shade of cold steel. His chapped lips slightly parted, curving upwards at the corner in a small smile, which would now be infinite.
“NO!” Dean shouted, his voice drowning the loud beeping of the machine that was wired to Cas. “Charlie! Doctor! Someone help!”
“Cas, please wake up, baby,” he whispered, head placed against Cas’, tears blurring his vision. “Please, Cas. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. Please come back to me, baby. I’m sorry. Come back and I will do you right this time. Please, Cas.”
However, all that pleading, all the begging was futile. He was gone. Cas had left him. And this time, it was for good. But Dean had never been one to give up, he kept on trying and utter out the words that he had been suppressing for years. His lips were trembling, hot tears falling from his eyes landed on Cas’ long lashes.
“I love you, Cas.”
~*~*~*~
“Are you alright, big brother?”
The voice of Sam startled Dean as he went to pat him on his shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m great.” Dean cleared his throat, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears that had found their way to the corner of his eyes. “Where’s Jess?”
“She’s waiting in the car. She said she wanted to give you some privacy.” Sam answered.
“Well, at least she’s polite. Unlike some little brother that I know,” Dean teased, glaring at Sam.
“Yeah , right.” Sam said, shoving at Dean playfully.
The brothers shared throaty laughter before Sam calmed down and sighed wistfully.
“You know, ever since I was old enough to remember, I’ve known that you guys were in love.”
“Yeah, I know. I was just a big idiot,” Dean answered solemnly, eyes now on the gravels at his feet,
“Oh, come on, Dean,” Sam said, both hands now on his shoulders. “I’ve told you. Hell, Cas told you. It was not your fault. You have got to let it go and forgive yourself. If you can’t do it for you, please, do it for Cas. You know that he can’t rest in peace if you keep tormenting yourself like this.”
Looking at his brother, Dean couldn’t find the words to form an answer. Instead, he just huffed and nodded his head in silent agreement.
He had to try. For himself. For Sam. For Cas.
Having stood in utter silence for a while, Dean cleared his throat again to catch Sam’s attention.
“Well, we’d better head back now. I bet mom is waiting for us at home.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll get the car started,” Sam offered, taking off to leave Dean standing alone.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Dean felt like all the burden on his chest had been lifted simply by standing here, in front of their own little landmark where they met. It felt like his heart was beating once again after a deep hibernation. It felt like he was living again.
Turning on his heel to head for the car where Sam and Jess were waiting, Dean was stopped by a sudden breeze. A breeze that was different, somehow. It wasn’t cold and unwelcoming like a draught. It was familiar and warm, as though an embrace wrapping around his body.
"Dean," he could have swore the breeze whispered in his ear softly. The sound reminded him of how Cas used to say his name.
Looking back at the moss green house doused in the orange shadow of the sun setting in the west afar, Dean caught himself smiling.
“Goodbye, Angel.”