It's About Time to Fly Away (Dean/Cas PG)
Summary: Dean grooms Cas's wings after reuniting with him in Purgatory.
Written for deancas-xmas, for Zutara Believer, who said, "Anything goes!"
Title from the song It's About Time by Barcelona.
-----
Dean had spent so long looking for Cas that having the real thing in front of him was kind of freaking him out. For months, every flash of movement in the trees that even began to look like a tan trench coat had set Dean's heart racing. His eyes, no matter what else they were doing at the time, had always been searching for Cas's face. Now his heart refused to slow down, and his eyes didn't know where to go except to Cas.
Benny led the way as they hiked out of the riverbed. Dean dropped to the back of the group so he could keep Cas in sight at all times. He couldn't shake the feeling that Cas might fade and disappear if he so much as blinked.
But Cas apparently wanted to keep an eye on Dean, too. He walked slower and slower until Dean caught up with him. Soon they were walking side by side, each comfortably in the other's peripheral vision.
Benny glanced back at them, only to roll his eyes. "Don't mind me," he said, "If you want to hold hands, go right ahead."
Dean resisted the urge to take Benny up on that.
Just as the sun started to dip below the tree line, rain clouds rolled over the opposite horizon. "Looks like we'd best be getting under cover," said Benny, nodding toward the sound of thunder.
With a sudden purpose to his strides, Cas took the lead. He cut a path through the underbrush slightly left of where Benny had been leading them. "I know this area," he said, "There's shelter in this direction."
Large, fat raindrops were beginning to fall when Cas finally reached his destination: a rocky cave in the side of a hill whose mouth was mostly hidden under a spray of ferns. They all ducked inside, and a few minutes later they heard the steady splash of raindrops turn to pounding sheets of water. "Good call, Cas," said Dean, tapping the back of his hand affectionately against Cas's arm.
Benny quickly added, "Yeah, I'll hand it to you - I'm glad we're not sleeping in that mess." Then he clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'll take first watch. Give you two some time to catch up."
"Thanks, man," said Dean as Benny installed himself at the mouth of the cave, just out of the rain.
When Dean turned back around, Cas was nowhere to be seen. Just mossy rocks and the inky blackness where the cave cut deeper into the hillside.
"Cas?" Dean called out, inching into the darkness.
When Cas answered, "Here," Dean's relief was so profound that he thought he felt his heart stutter. He reached out, scooting his feet one in front of the other until his fingertips touched the fabric of Cas's coat. He took a handful of it. A second later, Cas's hand closed around his wrist. "Follow me," said Cas, pulling.
Dean staggered forward. "How deep does this thing go?" As they went around a bend, the darkness became complete. Dean couldn't see the light of the cave entrance or Benny's silhouette behind him. As far as he knew, the only real things left in the world were the stone beneath his feet and Cas's hand on his arm.
"We've reached the end," said Cas. He sank downwards. Dean grabbed at him, trying to keep him from falling, until he realized that Cas was just sitting down.
Dean sat beside him. "What are we doing all the way back here?" he asked. "I can't see a thing."
He heard Cas shift from side to side. "While I understand that you trust Benny," Cas said, "I hope you appreciate that his presence makes me uncomfortable."
"Oh," said Dean. "Right." Here in the dark with Cas, he'd almost forgotten all about Benny. As close as they had become, to Dean Benny would always be war and danger and fighting back to back against an enemy that never stopped coming. Benny was a foxhole on some distant battlefield. But now Cas was here, and to Dean Cas was home. His year in Purgatory already felt like a fading nightmare.
"About Benny," said Dean. "I don't want you to think…"
Cas interrupted, "I left you alone. I am in no position to judge you for the choices you made in order to stay alive."
It would have been easy to leave it at that, but Dean knew better than to keep secrets from Cas. Secrets had only ever caused them pain. "See, thing is… It was more than just staying alive. Benny's had my back this whole time. He's my friend."
There was a rustle of fabric, and then Cas's hand rested on Dean's thigh just above his knee. "Dean," he said. "I know."
"How…" And then he figured it out. "My prayers."
"Yes."
They sat quietly for a while. The only sound that reached Dean's ears was the soft whisper of their breathing and the distant pounding of the rain outside. He was nodding, about to doze off, when he felt Cas shift next to him and heard the rhythmic scratching of fingernails on fabric. The steady cadence of Cas's breathing broke into uncomfortable sighs.
"What's the matter?" said Dean.
"Nothing."
"Cas…"
Cas cleared his throat before answering, "My wings are… bothering me."
Dean remembered Cas's wings, what little he'd seen of them. A shadow of raven's plumage on a barn wall, a condor's wingspan when he'd faced down Raphael. Dean had even seen them fully formed and in the flesh that night before the final attack on the Leviathan, when they'd spread to fill the Impala from windshield to backseat, as soft and white as a snowy owl's. But they were just a piece of Cas's grace. Dean never thought of them as actual limbs that could get cramped or itchy or wounded.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No," said Cas, still scratching miserably, "They just haven't gotten the proper attention lately and…"
Dean groped in the darkness until he found Cas's arm. He followed it around to where the hand was scratching at a shoulder blade, and stilled it with a touch. "Let me see."
Dean felt, rather than saw, as Cas shrugged his way out of his overcoat. He could hear it as Cas pulled the scrub top over his head. And maybe it was just a distant memory, but he could have sworn that he could see the outline of Cas's bare chest and back against the rocky cave wall.
And then, all at once, he really could see it. The perfect darkness suddenly faded into a soft blue glow, casting shadows on the rocks and illuminating the curve of Cas's spine where he sat hunched on the ground. The light was so subtle that it took Dean a moment to figure out where it was coming from. Dean had been looking for the great, sweeping lines of the wings he remembered. He didn't expect the pair of fragile-looking things that now clung to Cas's back, lit from within by his grace. They were all sharp points and delicate bones, so small that the tips of the longest feathers didn't even touch the ground. They looked like they belonged to a swallow, not an angel.
And they were filthy. Feathers jutted out, and some were bent at right angles. Some of the grime was recognizable as dried blood. Dean couldn't tell whether it belonged to Cas or someone else.
"Jesus, these are a mess," said Dean. He crawled around to sit behind Cas, inspecting his wings without touching. "I don't even know anything about wings and I can tell these are a mess. Why didn't you do something about this?"
Cas reached around to scratch at the topmost joint of a wing. Dust plumed from under his fingers, and a few loose feathers fell away. "Angels groom each other's wings. I haven't had anyone to do it for me in a long time."
"You can reach. You could have done it yourself."
Cas shrugged. "There didn't seem to be much of a point."
Dean could understand that. How many times had he looked down at his hands, blood ground so deep in the creases of his palms that he couldn't tell if it was from today or yesterday or a week ago, and decided that it wasn't worth the time it would take to wash them. Not when tomorrow's blood might be his own. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Can I?"
Cas's wings folded outwards ever so slightly. Dean could have sworn that they even got a little bigger. Their color changed too, becoming darker and glossy, like a starling. "Yes," he said.
The front of Dean's shirt was still damp from the rain where he coat hadn't quite covered it. He peeled it off of himself and began to use it to scrub the dirt off of Cas's longest feathers. The progress wasn't encouraging. Even when the dirt and grime fell away, the feathers underneath were ragged. "I don't think I'm doing this right," Dean mumbled.
"You're doing it perfectly," said Cas. His voice was soft and dreamy. His wings, in Dean's hands, melted into a downier texture and took on a creamy color. A dove.
Dean kept chipping away at the caked grime as Cas's wings relaxed into his touch. Soon they were completely slack, draped over his arms. He pushed his fingers through the smaller feathers at the top of Cas's wing, freeing the loose and broken ones clinging to the skin. He threw the little cloud of feathers away and repeated the motion twice more in the same spot until his hand came away clean.
As Dean worked, Cas's neck bent slowly to one side, going as limp as his wings. His shoulders vibrated with sensation. Dean honestly couldn't tell if this was a sexual thing or if it was the angel equivalent of a really good foot rub, but he didn't care. It was enough that Cas was here, and that Dean was allowed to put his hands on him, and that Cas was enjoying it.
His shirt went dry before he was even half done with the first wing. Soon he was just spreading dirt around instead of removing it. "Just a sec," he said, standing. Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat, but he didn't open his eyes even when Dean shuffled back out toward the mouth of the cave and left him alone.
Benny was sitting right where Dean had left him, just inside of where the rain was spattering through the ferns that covered the cave opening. "You'd best get some sleep," he remarked. "You'll be standing watch soon. Don't want you dozing off on the job." Benny didn't need sleep in the strictest sense, but he stayed more alert if he got to take breaks. Early on, they'd figured out a system that allowed them both to get the rest they needed, and they'd stuck to it. They only made exceptions if one of them was seriously injured or sick.
"Maybe we'll stay here an extra day - let us all get rested up before we head out," said Dean, holding his shirt out in the driving rain. He waited until it was soaked through before wringing it out and wetting it again, getting the worst of the dirt off of it.
"Maybe," said Benny dubiously. "But you're still on guard duty for the last half of the night."
Dean wrung his shirt out one more time, and this time the water flowed more or less clear. "Fine," he said as he moved back toward the dull glow of Cas's grace at the back of the cave.
This time, when he took his place behind Cas and resumed wiping the dirt off of his feathers (now a dull jaybird blue), Dean couldn't quiet his mind and enjoy the gentle intimacy. He mentally backtracked over every time he'd mentioned Benny in his prayers, trying to figure out how much Cas knew and how much Dean still had to tell him.
One by one they came back to him: all the prayers that he had whispered into the night. Not just the ones about Benny, and not just the ones he was proud of.
He remembered the times he'd despaired, crying and begging for Cas to come back to him.
The times he'd said goodbye, assuming Cas to be dead, only to pray again the next night: I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I know you're out there. I'll find you.
The times he'd been wounded and delirious, and when he woke up Benny had told him that he'd spent the night talking nonsense and calling out for Cas.
And the times he'd lashed out, shouting terrible, cruel accusations into the sky.
You abandoned me.
You don't even care if I die out here, do you?
If you can hear me, you bastard, don't ever bother coming back!
"You really heard them all?" said Dean, surprising himself with the sound of his own voice.
As if Cas had been reading his mind, he answered, "Every one."
Dean's hands, which had been combing loose feathers out of the base of Cas's wing, slowed and stopped. "I'm sorry, Cas. If I'd known why you left, why you were staying away… I'd have kept my mouth shut."
Cas, who had been sitting slouched over blissfully, his eyes closed and his mouth open, suddenly straightened and turned to look Dean in the eye. One of his wings was more or less clean; the other was still matted and filthy. Both puffed up and spread out, turning as white as a swan, and his voice became as deep and sure as Dean had ever heard it. "No. The only thing that would have been more unbearable than hearing you asking for me every night when I couldn't go to you, is if you'd stopped."
Dean picked with his fingernail at the crust of dirt where Cas's feathers became skin. "Some of the things I said…"
Cas reached behind himself to grab Dean's hand. He pulled it forward, and Dean with it, until Dean's chin was resting on his shoulder. "Your anger was justified," he said, "But what I remember most is your faith."
"Cas…" Their lips were so close. If Cas would just turn his head a little more. If Dean would just lean forward a bit farther.
Dean almost didn't hear the echo of footfalls on bare rock approaching them. It didn't occur to him who it was until he recognized the first few whistled notes of "In the Hall of the Mountain King."
He didn't move or change his expression, but Cas's wings flashed out to either side, suddenly so huge that they filled the little chamber. Their color was a fierce tawny, like an eagle. "Easy," said Dean, carding his fingers through the feathers soothingly. "It's just Benny."
Embarrassedly, Cas's wings shrank down to hummingbird size and became a pale green color. They were so small that his wingtips just barely reached his elbows.
"Stay," said Dean, pulling his hand free of Cas's grip and patting him between the shoulder blades. He scrambled upright and went to intercept Benny just before he rounded the corner. It wasn't like he felt that he had to protect Cas from Benny - that wasn't it at all. But it felt wrong to let Benny walk in on Cas with his wings out. That was a sight that only Dean had earned the right to see.
Dean planted himself in the middle of the passage, crossing his arms and blocking Benny's way. Benny tried to peek over his shoulder, looking for where the soft blue light was coming from, but he soon gave up. "It's your turn to keep watch," he said.
"C'mon Benny," said Dean. "Give us some more time."
"We've got rules," Benny reminded him.
"Well, I'm breaking them. Just this once." Benny didn't look impressed. Dean added with a sigh, "Don't worry; I'll take a double shift tomorrow to make up for it."
Benny took a step forward. Dean held his ground. They ended up standing so close that Dean was tempted to make a comment about personal space. "I know you're happy to have your friend back," said Benny, almost whispering, "But we're not out of the woods yet. Don't let your guard down."
"It's one night," said Dean.
"No, it's not. I'm not stupid, Dean. I've seen the way you look at him. He's your weak spot." Then he dropped his voice even lower, so that Dean had to strain to hear him. "You're stronger without him."
It took Dean a moment to put it together. After all this time, after all their searching had finally paid off, Benny was actually suggesting that they should leave Cas behind. The idea was so alien to Dean that he felt his arms and chest tighten, instantly on the defensive. "What's the point of all this, Benny?" he said, his voice more hostile than he meant it to be. "What're you fighting for?"
Benny didn't hesitate. "To get home."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Dean. "Now listen up: for me, Cas is the point. The whole point. If I can't keep him with me, then it was all for nothing."
"What about getting back to your brother?"
"That, too."
Benny gave Dean a condescending smirk. "What if you can only have one or the other?"
Dean set his jaw. "I'm having both."
"But what if…"
"No," Dean interrupted, poking a finger at Benny's chest. "I'm done making the hard choices. I'm done sacrificing my family for the cause. I'm gonna get out, and I'm gonna bring Cas with me. I'm not looking at any other options. Got it?"
Benny held up his hands and pivoted away with a little bow, the picture of gentlemanly defeat. "I'll be standing watch."
"Thanks," Dean sighed, the fight gone out of him.
Benny paced back toward his sentinel spot, whistling again, while Dean made his way back to Cas. He immediately plopped back down and went to work on the opposite wing. The hummingbird green was gone, replaced by feathers the color of coal. Dean thought they looked like a crow until he thumbed his way through to the flash of crimson underneath and recognized a red-winged blackbird.
"You shouldn't antagonize your vampire friend," said Cas. "He's your only way out of this place."
Dean shrugged. "He's not going anywhere. He's just being a bitch because… heh. You were listening?"
"He's right. You're weaker with me than without."
A speech composed itself in Dean's head, about how Cas had done nothing but make him stronger from the day they met. About how Benny's idea of weakness was inextricably linked to what Dean considered to be happiness. About how, even if Cas did make him weak, Dean would embrace that weakness because he'd rather have Cas than be strong.
He didn't say a word of it out loud. Instead, he muttered gruffly, "How about you shut the fuck up?"
Cas laughed and leaned back, pressing his wings against Dean's hands. "I've missed you," he said.
"Just don't leave again, okay?" said Dean, lacing his fingers gently into Cas's feathers in a way that had nothing to do with getting them clean.
Cas turned his head until Dean couldn’t see his face. "I’ll do my best."
Written for deancas-xmas, for Zutara Believer, who said, "Anything goes!"
Title from the song It's About Time by Barcelona.
-----
Dean had spent so long looking for Cas that having the real thing in front of him was kind of freaking him out. For months, every flash of movement in the trees that even began to look like a tan trench coat had set Dean's heart racing. His eyes, no matter what else they were doing at the time, had always been searching for Cas's face. Now his heart refused to slow down, and his eyes didn't know where to go except to Cas.
Benny led the way as they hiked out of the riverbed. Dean dropped to the back of the group so he could keep Cas in sight at all times. He couldn't shake the feeling that Cas might fade and disappear if he so much as blinked.
But Cas apparently wanted to keep an eye on Dean, too. He walked slower and slower until Dean caught up with him. Soon they were walking side by side, each comfortably in the other's peripheral vision.
Benny glanced back at them, only to roll his eyes. "Don't mind me," he said, "If you want to hold hands, go right ahead."
Dean resisted the urge to take Benny up on that.
Just as the sun started to dip below the tree line, rain clouds rolled over the opposite horizon. "Looks like we'd best be getting under cover," said Benny, nodding toward the sound of thunder.
With a sudden purpose to his strides, Cas took the lead. He cut a path through the underbrush slightly left of where Benny had been leading them. "I know this area," he said, "There's shelter in this direction."
Large, fat raindrops were beginning to fall when Cas finally reached his destination: a rocky cave in the side of a hill whose mouth was mostly hidden under a spray of ferns. They all ducked inside, and a few minutes later they heard the steady splash of raindrops turn to pounding sheets of water. "Good call, Cas," said Dean, tapping the back of his hand affectionately against Cas's arm.
Benny quickly added, "Yeah, I'll hand it to you - I'm glad we're not sleeping in that mess." Then he clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'll take first watch. Give you two some time to catch up."
"Thanks, man," said Dean as Benny installed himself at the mouth of the cave, just out of the rain.
When Dean turned back around, Cas was nowhere to be seen. Just mossy rocks and the inky blackness where the cave cut deeper into the hillside.
"Cas?" Dean called out, inching into the darkness.
When Cas answered, "Here," Dean's relief was so profound that he thought he felt his heart stutter. He reached out, scooting his feet one in front of the other until his fingertips touched the fabric of Cas's coat. He took a handful of it. A second later, Cas's hand closed around his wrist. "Follow me," said Cas, pulling.
Dean staggered forward. "How deep does this thing go?" As they went around a bend, the darkness became complete. Dean couldn't see the light of the cave entrance or Benny's silhouette behind him. As far as he knew, the only real things left in the world were the stone beneath his feet and Cas's hand on his arm.
"We've reached the end," said Cas. He sank downwards. Dean grabbed at him, trying to keep him from falling, until he realized that Cas was just sitting down.
Dean sat beside him. "What are we doing all the way back here?" he asked. "I can't see a thing."
He heard Cas shift from side to side. "While I understand that you trust Benny," Cas said, "I hope you appreciate that his presence makes me uncomfortable."
"Oh," said Dean. "Right." Here in the dark with Cas, he'd almost forgotten all about Benny. As close as they had become, to Dean Benny would always be war and danger and fighting back to back against an enemy that never stopped coming. Benny was a foxhole on some distant battlefield. But now Cas was here, and to Dean Cas was home. His year in Purgatory already felt like a fading nightmare.
"About Benny," said Dean. "I don't want you to think…"
Cas interrupted, "I left you alone. I am in no position to judge you for the choices you made in order to stay alive."
It would have been easy to leave it at that, but Dean knew better than to keep secrets from Cas. Secrets had only ever caused them pain. "See, thing is… It was more than just staying alive. Benny's had my back this whole time. He's my friend."
There was a rustle of fabric, and then Cas's hand rested on Dean's thigh just above his knee. "Dean," he said. "I know."
"How…" And then he figured it out. "My prayers."
"Yes."
They sat quietly for a while. The only sound that reached Dean's ears was the soft whisper of their breathing and the distant pounding of the rain outside. He was nodding, about to doze off, when he felt Cas shift next to him and heard the rhythmic scratching of fingernails on fabric. The steady cadence of Cas's breathing broke into uncomfortable sighs.
"What's the matter?" said Dean.
"Nothing."
"Cas…"
Cas cleared his throat before answering, "My wings are… bothering me."
Dean remembered Cas's wings, what little he'd seen of them. A shadow of raven's plumage on a barn wall, a condor's wingspan when he'd faced down Raphael. Dean had even seen them fully formed and in the flesh that night before the final attack on the Leviathan, when they'd spread to fill the Impala from windshield to backseat, as soft and white as a snowy owl's. But they were just a piece of Cas's grace. Dean never thought of them as actual limbs that could get cramped or itchy or wounded.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No," said Cas, still scratching miserably, "They just haven't gotten the proper attention lately and…"
Dean groped in the darkness until he found Cas's arm. He followed it around to where the hand was scratching at a shoulder blade, and stilled it with a touch. "Let me see."
Dean felt, rather than saw, as Cas shrugged his way out of his overcoat. He could hear it as Cas pulled the scrub top over his head. And maybe it was just a distant memory, but he could have sworn that he could see the outline of Cas's bare chest and back against the rocky cave wall.
And then, all at once, he really could see it. The perfect darkness suddenly faded into a soft blue glow, casting shadows on the rocks and illuminating the curve of Cas's spine where he sat hunched on the ground. The light was so subtle that it took Dean a moment to figure out where it was coming from. Dean had been looking for the great, sweeping lines of the wings he remembered. He didn't expect the pair of fragile-looking things that now clung to Cas's back, lit from within by his grace. They were all sharp points and delicate bones, so small that the tips of the longest feathers didn't even touch the ground. They looked like they belonged to a swallow, not an angel.
And they were filthy. Feathers jutted out, and some were bent at right angles. Some of the grime was recognizable as dried blood. Dean couldn't tell whether it belonged to Cas or someone else.
"Jesus, these are a mess," said Dean. He crawled around to sit behind Cas, inspecting his wings without touching. "I don't even know anything about wings and I can tell these are a mess. Why didn't you do something about this?"
Cas reached around to scratch at the topmost joint of a wing. Dust plumed from under his fingers, and a few loose feathers fell away. "Angels groom each other's wings. I haven't had anyone to do it for me in a long time."
"You can reach. You could have done it yourself."
Cas shrugged. "There didn't seem to be much of a point."
Dean could understand that. How many times had he looked down at his hands, blood ground so deep in the creases of his palms that he couldn't tell if it was from today or yesterday or a week ago, and decided that it wasn't worth the time it would take to wash them. Not when tomorrow's blood might be his own. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Can I?"
Cas's wings folded outwards ever so slightly. Dean could have sworn that they even got a little bigger. Their color changed too, becoming darker and glossy, like a starling. "Yes," he said.
The front of Dean's shirt was still damp from the rain where he coat hadn't quite covered it. He peeled it off of himself and began to use it to scrub the dirt off of Cas's longest feathers. The progress wasn't encouraging. Even when the dirt and grime fell away, the feathers underneath were ragged. "I don't think I'm doing this right," Dean mumbled.
"You're doing it perfectly," said Cas. His voice was soft and dreamy. His wings, in Dean's hands, melted into a downier texture and took on a creamy color. A dove.
Dean kept chipping away at the caked grime as Cas's wings relaxed into his touch. Soon they were completely slack, draped over his arms. He pushed his fingers through the smaller feathers at the top of Cas's wing, freeing the loose and broken ones clinging to the skin. He threw the little cloud of feathers away and repeated the motion twice more in the same spot until his hand came away clean.
As Dean worked, Cas's neck bent slowly to one side, going as limp as his wings. His shoulders vibrated with sensation. Dean honestly couldn't tell if this was a sexual thing or if it was the angel equivalent of a really good foot rub, but he didn't care. It was enough that Cas was here, and that Dean was allowed to put his hands on him, and that Cas was enjoying it.
His shirt went dry before he was even half done with the first wing. Soon he was just spreading dirt around instead of removing it. "Just a sec," he said, standing. Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat, but he didn't open his eyes even when Dean shuffled back out toward the mouth of the cave and left him alone.
Benny was sitting right where Dean had left him, just inside of where the rain was spattering through the ferns that covered the cave opening. "You'd best get some sleep," he remarked. "You'll be standing watch soon. Don't want you dozing off on the job." Benny didn't need sleep in the strictest sense, but he stayed more alert if he got to take breaks. Early on, they'd figured out a system that allowed them both to get the rest they needed, and they'd stuck to it. They only made exceptions if one of them was seriously injured or sick.
"Maybe we'll stay here an extra day - let us all get rested up before we head out," said Dean, holding his shirt out in the driving rain. He waited until it was soaked through before wringing it out and wetting it again, getting the worst of the dirt off of it.
"Maybe," said Benny dubiously. "But you're still on guard duty for the last half of the night."
Dean wrung his shirt out one more time, and this time the water flowed more or less clear. "Fine," he said as he moved back toward the dull glow of Cas's grace at the back of the cave.
This time, when he took his place behind Cas and resumed wiping the dirt off of his feathers (now a dull jaybird blue), Dean couldn't quiet his mind and enjoy the gentle intimacy. He mentally backtracked over every time he'd mentioned Benny in his prayers, trying to figure out how much Cas knew and how much Dean still had to tell him.
One by one they came back to him: all the prayers that he had whispered into the night. Not just the ones about Benny, and not just the ones he was proud of.
He remembered the times he'd despaired, crying and begging for Cas to come back to him.
The times he'd said goodbye, assuming Cas to be dead, only to pray again the next night: I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I know you're out there. I'll find you.
The times he'd been wounded and delirious, and when he woke up Benny had told him that he'd spent the night talking nonsense and calling out for Cas.
And the times he'd lashed out, shouting terrible, cruel accusations into the sky.
You abandoned me.
You don't even care if I die out here, do you?
If you can hear me, you bastard, don't ever bother coming back!
"You really heard them all?" said Dean, surprising himself with the sound of his own voice.
As if Cas had been reading his mind, he answered, "Every one."
Dean's hands, which had been combing loose feathers out of the base of Cas's wing, slowed and stopped. "I'm sorry, Cas. If I'd known why you left, why you were staying away… I'd have kept my mouth shut."
Cas, who had been sitting slouched over blissfully, his eyes closed and his mouth open, suddenly straightened and turned to look Dean in the eye. One of his wings was more or less clean; the other was still matted and filthy. Both puffed up and spread out, turning as white as a swan, and his voice became as deep and sure as Dean had ever heard it. "No. The only thing that would have been more unbearable than hearing you asking for me every night when I couldn't go to you, is if you'd stopped."
Dean picked with his fingernail at the crust of dirt where Cas's feathers became skin. "Some of the things I said…"
Cas reached behind himself to grab Dean's hand. He pulled it forward, and Dean with it, until Dean's chin was resting on his shoulder. "Your anger was justified," he said, "But what I remember most is your faith."
"Cas…" Their lips were so close. If Cas would just turn his head a little more. If Dean would just lean forward a bit farther.
Dean almost didn't hear the echo of footfalls on bare rock approaching them. It didn't occur to him who it was until he recognized the first few whistled notes of "In the Hall of the Mountain King."
He didn't move or change his expression, but Cas's wings flashed out to either side, suddenly so huge that they filled the little chamber. Their color was a fierce tawny, like an eagle. "Easy," said Dean, carding his fingers through the feathers soothingly. "It's just Benny."
Embarrassedly, Cas's wings shrank down to hummingbird size and became a pale green color. They were so small that his wingtips just barely reached his elbows.
"Stay," said Dean, pulling his hand free of Cas's grip and patting him between the shoulder blades. He scrambled upright and went to intercept Benny just before he rounded the corner. It wasn't like he felt that he had to protect Cas from Benny - that wasn't it at all. But it felt wrong to let Benny walk in on Cas with his wings out. That was a sight that only Dean had earned the right to see.
Dean planted himself in the middle of the passage, crossing his arms and blocking Benny's way. Benny tried to peek over his shoulder, looking for where the soft blue light was coming from, but he soon gave up. "It's your turn to keep watch," he said.
"C'mon Benny," said Dean. "Give us some more time."
"We've got rules," Benny reminded him.
"Well, I'm breaking them. Just this once." Benny didn't look impressed. Dean added with a sigh, "Don't worry; I'll take a double shift tomorrow to make up for it."
Benny took a step forward. Dean held his ground. They ended up standing so close that Dean was tempted to make a comment about personal space. "I know you're happy to have your friend back," said Benny, almost whispering, "But we're not out of the woods yet. Don't let your guard down."
"It's one night," said Dean.
"No, it's not. I'm not stupid, Dean. I've seen the way you look at him. He's your weak spot." Then he dropped his voice even lower, so that Dean had to strain to hear him. "You're stronger without him."
It took Dean a moment to put it together. After all this time, after all their searching had finally paid off, Benny was actually suggesting that they should leave Cas behind. The idea was so alien to Dean that he felt his arms and chest tighten, instantly on the defensive. "What's the point of all this, Benny?" he said, his voice more hostile than he meant it to be. "What're you fighting for?"
Benny didn't hesitate. "To get home."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Dean. "Now listen up: for me, Cas is the point. The whole point. If I can't keep him with me, then it was all for nothing."
"What about getting back to your brother?"
"That, too."
Benny gave Dean a condescending smirk. "What if you can only have one or the other?"
Dean set his jaw. "I'm having both."
"But what if…"
"No," Dean interrupted, poking a finger at Benny's chest. "I'm done making the hard choices. I'm done sacrificing my family for the cause. I'm gonna get out, and I'm gonna bring Cas with me. I'm not looking at any other options. Got it?"
Benny held up his hands and pivoted away with a little bow, the picture of gentlemanly defeat. "I'll be standing watch."
"Thanks," Dean sighed, the fight gone out of him.
Benny paced back toward his sentinel spot, whistling again, while Dean made his way back to Cas. He immediately plopped back down and went to work on the opposite wing. The hummingbird green was gone, replaced by feathers the color of coal. Dean thought they looked like a crow until he thumbed his way through to the flash of crimson underneath and recognized a red-winged blackbird.
"You shouldn't antagonize your vampire friend," said Cas. "He's your only way out of this place."
Dean shrugged. "He's not going anywhere. He's just being a bitch because… heh. You were listening?"
"He's right. You're weaker with me than without."
A speech composed itself in Dean's head, about how Cas had done nothing but make him stronger from the day they met. About how Benny's idea of weakness was inextricably linked to what Dean considered to be happiness. About how, even if Cas did make him weak, Dean would embrace that weakness because he'd rather have Cas than be strong.
He didn't say a word of it out loud. Instead, he muttered gruffly, "How about you shut the fuck up?"
Cas laughed and leaned back, pressing his wings against Dean's hands. "I've missed you," he said.
"Just don't leave again, okay?" said Dean, lacing his fingers gently into Cas's feathers in a way that had nothing to do with getting them clean.
Cas turned his head until Dean couldn’t see his face. "I’ll do my best."