for useinsouciant

[singlemantear]

 continued from here.

Dean doesn't get much sleep. He stays in bed, makes sure Cas gets the sleep he needs, but Dean's too keyed up about what he's going to do the next day to get much more than short, fitful bouts of unconsciousness. His dreams are filled with images of anxiety and pain - the face of his brother, a hoard of Croats chasing him, the scorch mark of angel wings across pavement.

As the sun starts to rise, Dean slides out of bed, careful to not wake up Cas, and goes to prepare for what he's gotta do that day. He covers the dining room floor with sheets that will hopefully soak up the blood, he sterilizes the saw and surgical instruments with alcohol he'd gotten at the hospital and gets all the bandages ready. He feels sick but he's got his game face on - determined to do what Cas has asked of him. He isn't thinking beyond the present moment and the one after that and the one after that. He won't think of the future again until after this is over. Cas needs all his attention.

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[singlemantear]

Dean suddenly feels a lump form in his throat at Cas's words. He's just been on auto-pilot since this morning, not stopping to take stock of what he was feeling. And what he's feeling is exhausted - physically, emotionally. He doesn't necessarily feel like he has the right to be - it was Cas who lost the most today after all - but he can't deny that today was hard on him too.

He nods, worried that if he tries to say anything he'll just embarrass himself.

Instead he takes Cas up on the unspoken invitation and carefully gets into bed next to him - trying not to jostle too much. He then makes sure both of them are covered.

"Comfortable?" he asks. "Or...as comfortable as you can be?"

[useinsouciant]

"As comfortable as I can be, as you said." He stretches out his arm to rest his hand against Dean's heart, the motion starting to become habit. "I'd say I'll try not to wake you, but I have a feeling that's futile. I could breathe too deeply and you'd wake up."

[singlemantear]

"Don't worry about waking me," Dean says as his hand reflexively comes up to hold Cas's in place on his chest. The feel of Cas's hand on him, makes his eyes start to prick again. He's so relieved that Cas is okay. That today is over.

"That's why I'm here."

His voice is thick with emotion and he closes his eyes so he doesn't start doing something as embarrassing as cry.

[useinsouciant]

It's a rough first few nights. Cas wakes up in pain, biting down on his pillow to try and ride it out without waking up Dean. Which he's discovered is an impossible feat. Dean wakes up if Cas so much as blinks and is there with a soothing hand on his forehead, a glass of water, and one of those pills.

They do help, the pills. Make him feel like he's floating, a little, but at least he's not in pain.

When he can move enough to get a shirt on (button-down, but it's progress), they take the wings and feathers and give them what Dean calls a hunter's funeral. Castiel had thought he would be fine with it. After losing so much, a pair of wings seems small by comparison.

But he finds himself wiping away tears on his shirtsleeve as he watches the last of his angelhood float away in ash and smoke.

[singlemantear]

Dean at least finds purpose in caring for Cas. More purpose than he's had since he lost Sam. It gives him something else to worry about and something else to do. Cas needs him and Dean needs to be needed.

He'll get antsy to move on soon - when Cas is healed and Dean can train him up a little. But for now, he's content to hole up in this house that's started to feel a little like home even though they're surrounded by the ghosts of people who are probably all dead.

Today, they honor the ghost of Cas's wings. Dean had made them their own pyre and let Cas light them up. He stands respectfully and in reverence for the last piece of Cas that's connected to heaven and his Grace. He catches Cas crying out of the corner of his eye and he sets a hand on his shoulder to try to comfort him. He doesn't say anything because what can he say? Apologies or condolences feel inadequate for what he's lost.

[useinsouciant]

"I didn't think -- " He lets out a long, slow breath, blinking hard to stop the flow of tears unsuccessfully. "This is grief, I think. Mourning a part of myself I have to let go. Sadness, anger, pain. But not the physical kind. Just... pain."

He leans against Dean's shoulder, watching the last of the feathers catch and burn to embers.

[singlemantear]

Dean feels a lump form in his own throat. He feels the pain too, for Cas. He's angry and sad and hurts for his friend. He mourns the loss of those incredible wings too - of everything Cas was as an angel.

When Cas leans against him, Dean wraps his arm around Cas's back - well below the bandages of his still healing wounds - in a sort of side hug.

"You're allowed to mourn, Cas," Dean says, voice low and solemn. "You're allowed to be sad and angry. I sure as hell am."

[useinsouciant]

"I don't know what to be angry at," he admits, hand balling into a fist against his thigh. "God? He's gone. So are my brothers and sisters. Should I be angry at them for abandoning us? Angry at Michael for causing this war? It all seems so futile. There's nothing to be done and I'm left here. Watching my wings burn."

[singlemantear]

"You can be angry at any of them," he says. "All of them. Doesn't matter. Doesn't have to make sense. You can feel however you want."

[useinsouciant]

Cas pushes his face against Dean's neck with a sigh, feeling -- overwhelmed. Upset, frustrated, angry, grateful, all at once. "How do humans deal with multiple emotions at once?"

[singlemantear]

Dean tightens his arm around Cas.

"I'm not the best person to answer that question," Dean says with a snort. "I don't deal with them.

"And, for the record, I don't suggest that method."

Dean just doesn't know any other way to be.

[useinsouciant]

"So then I just -- let them happen?" He knocks his fist against his thigh. He wants badly to hit something, but his stitches are still healing. Itching, as Dean promised, which is a godawful sensation.

"This is why humans fight," he realizes slowly. "When they have no purpose behind the fight, it's because there are too many motions and no outlet. I have the -- the urge to fight something. But I'd undo all your hard work, open the wounds on my back."

[singlemantear]

"Yeah, sometimes they just kinda...boil over," Dean says with a nod. "And you either cry or yell or you hit something.

"Have you ever yelled just to yell? Might help."

[useinsouciant]

"I've cried now. I have a feeling I will cry again.

I might... try yelling. At some point. I have a feeling it will happen more naturally. Forcing it seems -- odd.

Do you do these things, when you're angry? Yell, hit something. Does it help you?

[singlemantear]

"Yeah, I think so," Dean says, shrugging a little. "It feels good at the time. Well...depending on what you hit it may feel bad too. But sometimes you need that. Sometimes physical pain feels better than the other kind."

[useinsouciant]

He's never heard Dean talk like this. It feels so much more raw and vulnerable than he's ever been, and it's breaking Cas's heart. Making him hurt for Dean, almost as badly as the physical pain.

He moves his hand from Dean's shoulder to the back of his neck, wanting to kiss him again but not sure how it would be received. "You are so broken, Dean Winchester," he says, soft and sympathetic. Not judgmental at all. "And I wish I had a way to fix you. To fix the way you hurt."

[singlemantear]

Dean tenses and snorts in derision. All he hears is pity. All he feels is like the fuck up his Dad always expected him to be.

"Yeah, well, get used to it," he says. "Cause I'm stuck like this."

He's not gonna get any less broken at this point. It's just going to get worse. And he doesn't need Cas or anyone else to fix him.

[useinsouciant]

"I'm not saying it to make you angry, I promise. Perhaps... know that I'm here. If you need to yell. If yelling at nothing isn't helpful and you need to aim your anger at something."

[singlemantear]

"That's fucked up, Cas," Dean says. "I'm not gonna yell at you for no reason just to make myself feel better. That's like...abuse or something."

Dean's yelled at enough people for no good reason when he can't control his anger. Sam was always good at calling him out for that shit. He doesn't want to do that to Cas - although he's sure he has in the past and probably will in the future. But he doesn't want Cas to be okay with it.

[useinsouciant]

"Oh." He hadn't realized it was fucked up. Not really. It was just something Dean did, and sometimes Sam fussed at him for it, but it just... happened. "I'm still learning," he says slowly, "What is -- fucked up, and what isn't. What's normal and what isn't. I've observed a lot of humanity but never really received an education on good and bad other than Heaven's version of it."

[singlemantear]

Dean sighs. He knows he's not the best example of humanity and dealing with your shit.

"Well just don't let someone yell at you for no reason, alright?" Dean says, the sharp tone in his voice gone. "Especially me."

Dean can be a dick, especially to the people he cares most about. He hates that about himself.

[useinsouciant]

"I'll do my best to remember that." He wipes his arm across his eyes again, trying to catch all the stray tears. "And I'll do my best to do the same. To not yell at you with no reason. Though I'm not entirely sure I can predict my emotions in the coming days."

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Let's go back inside. I think this will burn itself out."

[singlemantear]

Dean nods.

"Alright," he says, willing to do whatever Cas wants right now. He'll come out and check on it later to make sure it's out.

"You want a drink? I could use a drink."

[useinsouciant]

"Yes." He sounds relieved at the offer. "Yes I think I very much would like a drink." He knows what Dean means. Something to drink is water, or the flat soda from the pantry. A drink means alcohol and Cas feels very much like he needs that right now.

[singlemantear]

"Drinks it is," Dean says as he wraps an arm around Cas's shoulders (careful of his healing wounds) and leads them inside. There's a bottle of whiskey in the pantry.

"Have a seat. Drink's on the house today."

He smirks like he made some great joke before he grabs two glasses from the cabinet and pours them each a couple fingers of the alcohol and sets one in front of Cas before he sits across from him.