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Dean immediately knows something is wrong when he wakes up to an empty bed. The spot next to him is cold, as if Cas hadn't been there at all. It's still dark out, and the moon casts silver shadows over the lake outside the bedroom window. His knee-jerk reaction is to reach for his gun, but it's been months since he stopped sleeping with it underneath his pillow. He still checks the perimeter every night, and makes sure the warding's are up to speed. Although, the constant need to be on edge is starting to settle after months of peacefulness.
Dean tip-toes down the creaky stairs, careful not to wake Jack. The downstairs is quiet and dark, there's no trace of a wayward angel anywhere. A knot is forming in his stomach, and the walls start to creep closer and closer. Suddenly it's really hard to breathe.
Kitchen counters. The tea pot. A jar of honey. Oven mitts. The stained glass window over the sink.
The floorboards beneath his feet. How his shirt is sticking to his skin. His own racing heartbeat- no shit don't focus on that. A cold breeze against his skin. Wait-
A shiver runs down Dean's spine. Before he bolts off to fetch his shotgun from the locked closet and load it with salt rounds, he realizes the door leading out to the porch is ajar. He steps out on the cold wooden boards. Socks had been a great idea but who has the time to think about that when your husband is fucking missing .
Cas is standing by the rail, and Dean takes a moment to take in the sight. Cas is wearing nothing but his boxers and one of Dean's old shirts. His hair is standing in all different directions, even messier than usual. It's not until he gets closer he sees that Cas is white-knuckling the rail and is breathing rapidly.
"Hey, Cas, sweetheart. It's me," Dean says softly and slowly approaches the man. Like he's a skittish animal, on the verge of fleeing the premises.
"Go away." It's barely a whisper and the words are drenched in tears. "Cas, you know I won't do that." He takes another step closer, and gently places his hand on Cas' shoulder.
The first time this happened, only days after Cas was rescued from the Empty, Cas had pushed Dean away and screamed at him to get away from him and that he never wanted to see him again. It felt like he had been shot and he just walked away. Dean had punched a wall until his knuckles turned into a bloody mess before collapsing onto the floor into a sobbing mess. Through his years as a hunter, he'd been tortured and hurt in every single way possible, but the pain he felt that moment was one of the worst moments of pain he'd suffered through.
They have come a long way since then.
"Just stop. I know it's not real. You can do whatever you want, but please, not this," Cas pleas. "He doesn't love me." The despair in Cas' voice breaks Dean's heart. He wraps his arms around Cas from behind, and covers his shaking hands with his own.
"Cas, this is real. I'm real . I rescued you. I gripped you real tight and dragged you out of that place. And I sure as hell love you. You're safe, I got you." He places a soft kiss right beneath Cas' ear and he can feel his pulse thundering underneath his skin. "I bet the me you saw in the empty didn't know you are ticklish under your feet, huh? Or that you prefer peppermint tea over chamomile? That you can't eat raspberries because of the shape of the molecules but strawberries are fine?" Slowly, the tension in Cas' body disappears.
"Dean?"
"Yes. It's me. I'm here." Cas turns around, his eyes filled with tears and Dean runs his fingers through Cas' messy dark hair. "I'm here. You're okay." Dean wraps his arms around him, and flinches when Cas' freezing hands find their way underneath his shirt. Jeez, how long has he been out here? Sure, an angel might not get sick from the cold but still.
"Let's go inside before I freeze my ass off. And that would be a shame because it's a damn fine ass." Cas laughs against his shoulder, but it sounds more like a sob. Dean ushers him inside and wraps him in one of the fuzzy blankets Jack claims to be absolutely necessary to have in a home.
"Is it okay if you sit here while I make us some hot cocoa?" Dean gestures to the couch and Cas obediently sits down. Fine tremors are running through his body, but he nods. "I'll just be in the kitchen, holler at me if it gets bad again, okay?" Cas nods again and Dean heads for the kitchen.
Hot cocoa is reserved to times like this. Cas and Jack don't understand it, and think it's appropriate at any time. But to Dean, for his entire life it was the only thing he could use to cheer Sammy up when he cried over having to change school again or when Dad showed up black out drunk after a few weeks away. Back then, he used to snatch packets from diners he then mixed with boiled water. It tasted like shit compared to the real deal, but at least it was something. Now, he makes it with organic ingredients bought at the farmers market. Light-years from how his life used to be. Sometimes - well, most of the time - it feels surreal.
A couple of minutes later, he returns to the living room with two cups of steaming hot cocoa. Cas is still shaking slightly, and tears are rolling down his cheeks in a steady flow. Dean moves them around on the couch until Cas' back is flushed against Dean's chest. He holds him tight, tries to hold him together with his own arms alone.
"What happened?" Dean asks.
"I was watching you sleep, and I… I figured this was all too good to be true. That the empty was torturing me again."
"You're supposed to wake me up. We've talked about that."
"You need your sleep. And… I didn't think it would matter. You weren't real anyway."
"Cas…"
A wrecked sob hitches through Cas' body and Dean tightens his grip around him. It hurts that he can't help him. That he can't take the burden of Cas' horrible memories. If he could, he would do it in a heartbeat, no hesitation.
"I'm so sorry Dean. You shouldn't have to put up with this. You have been through enough." Dean hauls Cas off his chest and swiftly moves him around so they are facing each other. He cups Cas' cheeks, and swipes away a few stray tears with his thumbs. Even when his eyes are red and his cheeks flushed from crying he looks beautiful.
" Stop apologizing . You can't help it. It's not your fault. I'm gonna keep sayin' it until you believe me. Okay, sweetheart?"
"Okay, Dean."
"You didn't blame me for the whole Nebraska-fiasco, which you should've by the way, so stop thinking I would blame you for still being messed up for being tortured by the oldest entity in the world."
"I would never blame you for what happened. You were hurting," Cas frowns. Like the thought of being angry at Dean for running away without no way to contact him for weeks is absurd.
What happened in Nebraska is still something Dean doesn't like talking about, even with Cas. He had run away to bumfuck Nebraska, ditched his phones so they wouldn't find him, with the sole purpose of drinking until he got liver failure or got the liquid courage to eat a bullet. All it had gotten him when Cas finally found him was aspiration pneumonia and three weeks in the loony bin. Turns out that just because the world stops ending, whatever emotional crap you've stored for forty odd years doesn't magically disappear.
Shocker.
"Do you know what triggered it this time?"
Cas chews on his bottom lip, a bad habit he probably has picked up from Dean. He avoids meeting Dean's eyes, filling Dean's stomach with dread.
"Things have been going well. Jack is thriving in school. My grace is replenishing. And you and me… are good ."
It sends a pang through Dean's chest. Just because Dean hasn't been acting like a goddamn asshole lately Cas thinks he's still being tortured in the empty.
The first instinct is to act out. To yell at Cas to fucking leave him then, if living with him is what's causing him to spiral like this. But it's not really anger, he knows that by now, thanks to his unrelenting therapist who is calling him out on all his fucking bullshit. What it really is, is fear and guilt and shame all cloaked as anger because anger is easy . It's easier to be angry than to admit that you're scared. And it's easier to be angry than to take responsibility for your own crappy actions. ' If you're raised with an angry man in your house there will always be an angry man in your house ' and all that jazz.
"Is there something I can do? Y'know, to not have this happen again. Me going back to being a full-time asshole to you just to prove I'm not some torture device is not an option." Cas actually smiles, well it's a small twitch in his lips, but still.
"Dean, you do enough. And the therapy is helping me cope with it. Tonight was… I don't really know. A setback maybe. I just need you to hold me right now." Dean leans in and gives him a deep kiss. Tries to heal him with his lips alone. Put him back together piece by piece with all the love he has stored in his body.
When the cups of cocoa are empty, Dean reaches for the remote and scrolls through Netflix until he finds one of the nature documentaries Cas loves so much. Cas is tucked against his chest, while Dean's hand is slowly stroking his back up and down. "I love you so much," Dean whispers into his hair.
"I know."
Dean snorts, "did you just 'Han Solo' me?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about." Cas tries to sound innocent, but Dean can hear the smirk in his voice.
Sleepiness is starting to embrace him, and when he finally drifts off to sleep, Dean does so with a smile on his lips.
They are going to be okay. One step at the time.