The Glass Vial | Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight: Betrayal and Redemption
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He’s not sure he can do this. Not sure if he can have Cas in the same home as his brother, who is suffering because of what Cas did. He knows, deep down he knows, that maybe, eventually, the wall would have fallen by itself. But it’s not about that, not entirely. He knows it goes beyond that, and it’s the way Cas betrayed his trust, and turned against them.
He’s not sure he can do this.
Cas is currently out getting takeaway for them to eat tonight, and Sam is having a quick sleep in his room. He’s in the middle of the living room, agitated, trying to stop himself pacing.
“Fuck this,” he mumbles, and turns to pick up his jacket, when suddenly Gabriel is standing in front of him looking unimpressed.
Dean takes a step back and lets out a sigh. “What?” he snaps.
“You need to stop being a dick about this,” Gabriel says.
Dean glares at him and contemplates the ways of killing an archangel, and his hands itch for one of those shiny angel swords.
“Why are you here?” Dean says, not having any patience to deal with this.
“He’s the one that saved Sam, Dean,” Gabriel says, and it the words drop like hot acid onto Dean’s skin, making him pause. “I’m not the one that gave up my grace for you.”
“He - what?” Dean asks, his voice sounding quiet and small.
“The vials were full of Castiel’s grace,” Gabriel says, slowly, like Dean isn’t quite understanding. And he’s not, fuck, he’s not understanding this at all. “He saved your brother.”
Dean isn’t prepared for the guilt that threatens to swallow him. “He... he hasn’t told me.”
Gabriel looks over him seriously and says, “He didn’t think it would change anything.”
Dean chokes out a mirthless laugh and shakes his head. He begins to pace. “I can’t. I can’t just get over the fact he broke the only thing in Sam’s head that was separating him from - from this.” He stops pacing and turns to face Gabriel. “He can’t even be left alone.”
“Castiel didn’t do that to him.”
Dean can’t begin to untangle his feelings to answer that.
“Hell did that to him. Lucifer did that. We all make mistakes, Dean. Castiel is just trying to make up for his.”
It still hurts. The betrayal, the damage he caused, and the fact he didn’t trust Dean. When Dean had put all his trust in him, and would have died for him.
At the same time, it’s also hard to forget that Cas pulled Sam out of Hell in the first place. That Cas has died for them both, more than once. That Cas has fallen for them, and now, again, he’s fallen to save Sam. He tries to swallow down the clawing sadness that’s rising up his throat and rubs a hand over his eyes.
“It’s painful, you know,” Gabriel says softly. “Falling. Like Castiel did. He had to rip the essence from his grace, tear it away and try and contain it all in a little glass bottle. He had wounds, that grace would seep out of for days. The feathers would fall from his wings. And now he’s left like this, and all he’s got in this world is you.”
“What about you?” Dean asks, pushing down the imagery of Cas doing that to himself, the memory of pouring his grace pouring down Bobby’s kitchen sink. “Doesn’t he have you?”
“Maybe,” Gabriel says. “One day.”
Dean doesn’t ask what he means, and Gabriel gives him one last look, a pitying smile, before he disappears and leaves Dean alone in the middle of the living room.
He kicks at the living room table and sits down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. Everything is so fucked up, and he can’t begin to untangle all the things that are wrong, all the things that need fixing but maybe, this time, just can’t be.
***
It’s Christmas Eve, and today was Dean’s last day of work until the 27th. He’s home, sitting on the couch, when Cas walks in, the smell of warm food coming with him.
“I hope this is what you wanted, Dean,” he says, placing the pizza boxes on the table in front of the couch. “My memory seems to have limiting capabilities now that I’m human. I wasn’t sure whether you wanted a flat base or stuffed, but the man assured me you would enjoy stuffed.”
Dean swallows and tries to smile. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks.”
Cas pauses, and blinks a few times. Slowly, the sides of his mouth rise, just a little, and Dean smiles softly back. “You’re welcome.”
Sam walks in from the hallway, his hair sticking up in odd directions, and Dean resists the urge to flatten it down. He’s wearing a red jumper with a white snowflake on the front and Dean shakes his head at him fondly. Sam smiles at them both and sits down on the couch, pulling the blanket down that rests on the back of it and drapes it around his body.
“Nice jumper, Samantha,” Dean says, walking towards the television and kneeling down in front of it. He’s sure Sam must be rolling his eyes behind him and Dean smirks as he flicks through the DVDs and picks out one he stole from Bobby’s.
“What are we going to watch?” Cas asks, as he sits down in the old armchair that sits next to the couch.
“Tradition,” Sam offers, and Dean puts the disc in, and watches as the tray closes.
“It’s tradition to watch films on Christmas Eve,” Dean elaborates, and walks over to the wall to turn off the lights, leaving only the two lamps in the room and the Christmas tree to provide light. He walks around the table and sinks down into the couch beside Sam, watching as the DVD starts to play.
“Dean chooses Die Hard,” Sam says.
“Well, duh, Sammy. It’s a Christmas film,” Dean says, leaning forward and pulling the top pizza box from the table and lifting the lid. He passes it to Sam and reaches for the next one.
“And we’ve got to watch It’s A Wonderful Life.”
“But first,” Dean says, handing Cas the pizza box, “we watch The Grinch.”
Anthony Hopkins starts narrating and Dean settles deeper into the couch, and takes a bite of his pizza. He can feel as Sam shifts beside him and nestles deeper into his blanket, and leans his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean nudges him a little and Sam smiles. Dean looks over at Cas, who’s watching the screen with wide eyes as Jim Carrey walks into Whoville with the saw behind his back and hands it to a little Who child.
“I’ve never heard of a Grinch,” Cas says. “And I can’t recall you ever hunting one.”
Sam snorts and Dean almost chokes on his bite of pizza. “It’s not a real thing, Cas,” he says, once he’s swallowed down the food. “It’s just Jim Carrey in a furry, green suit.”
“I see,” Cas says, but it’s clear he doesn’t, and Dean rolls his eyes fondly and takes another bite of pizza.
They watch the film while eating their food, having to pause now and then to explain to Cas the intricacies of the Who world whenever he doesn’t understand, and break out the beer and fizzy drinks as the film comes to a close and Dean puts in Die Hard.
It’s not long before Sam is falling asleep, and Dean stands up to turn the heating dial up a few notches to keep the apartment warm. Outside the snow is falling, and the Christmas tree Sam insisted on having is twinkling from the corner of the room.
Dean hasn’t had a Christmas like since since the one before Hell, his Hell, and it’s both a sad and an awesome feeling that this they’re able to have one this year.
When the film marathon is finished, and Sam is curled up against the arm of the couch and still sleeping, blanket over him, Dean looks over at Cas, to see he’s watching him in the dim light. He looks peaceful, almost, like he’s content.
Dean’s been trying to keep everything civil between himself and Cas, especially around Sam, who seems happier about Christmas than he has in years. Dean caught Sam and Bobby walking in the other day with arms full of Christmas wrapping and gift bags, but Sam hid them in his room, and Dean doesn’t have the heart to go searching.
Cas is still staring at him when Dean looks back over, and something springs to mind, something he’s been wondering but hasn’t had the guts to ask yet.
Not wanting to waste time easing into the question, Dean says, “Were you in purgatory?” Cas looks over at him but his expression is unreadable, even if there’s a softening around his eyes.
“I was,” he says, like that’s all there is to it.
“How did you get out?” Dean asks, voice quiet to not wake Sam.
Cas continues to stare at him, before saying, “That’s... that’s for another time.”
There’s hesitancy in his voice that Dean has only learnt to associate with this new Cas, the human Cas, but still there’s a soft smile to his lips and he still looks peaceful.
Dean knows when he’s not going to get anymore information out of someone, when the conversation is over with, so he gives up and plans to revisit it in a few days.
“I should get him to bed,” Dean says quietly, and Cas nods, and rubs at his eyes. It’s so human and vulnerable, and Dean watches with something like affection as he stands up, mumbles a quiet “‘Night, Dean,” before heading down the hallway and to the study, which is acting as his room.
Dean waits until Cas’ door is shut before he walks over to Sam, and shakes his shoulders. Sam stirs, blinking up at him.
“Come on, you oversized moose,” he says gently, as Sam looks blearily around the room, disorientated from sleep. “Get to bed.”
Sam stands up, yawning, and turns to Dean, and he smiles. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”
“Yeah, Merry Christmas, little brother. Now, come on, get to sleep. See if Santa visits.”
Sam rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, and he drags his feet along on the floor down the hallway to his bedroom, and Dean is left in the living room, piling up the pizza boxes.
He spots Cas’ coat hung by the door, and walks over, eyeing a small piece of paper that looks like a receipt poking out. He pulls it out to see how much the pizzas were, and sucks in a quick breath. It’s crumpled and it’s a little torn, but his handwriting still looks as clear as it did the day he wrote it. On the centre of the scrap of paper, it says Thanks, and Dean smiles a little before shoving it back in the coat pocket. He knows it’s still going to take a little while to adjust to Cas living with them, and longer for Cas to adjust to being human. But he’s got his brother, and a friend who, apart from Bobby, is the closest thing to family he’s ever had.
He walks past the small lopsided tree with the presents beneath, and down the hallway, pausing at Sam’s door. He gently opens it and looks inside, to see Sam asleep beneath the covers, his red jumper folded neatly on the chair by the door, and the curtains open just an inch, which is letting a stream of blue light in. Dean stares for a moment longer, reveling in the fact that they’re safe and this is their life now, before heading past the office, where Cas is sleeping, and enters his bedroom.
He dresses in pajamas, gets under his sheets, and he closes his eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to feel asleep, as he sinks into the mattress and pulls the covers over him, feeling protected from the cool air.
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