Work Text:
~~~~~~~~~
Dean pressed his forehead against the cool, hard surface of, surprisingly clean, non-descript bathroom tile. The shattering image of Castiel's dead lifeless eyes refusing to leave him. It would have been easier if the angel had actually been dead; it would've been easier if he hadn't seen that twinge of life when Cas realized he wasn't that time's Dean. It had taken everything in him not to hug the angel when he'd returned- let alone let him out of his sight.
Without the angel at his side to reassure him those images and the memory of a ‘him' that not only would, but did send Cas to his death wouldn't leave him.
Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, unsuccessfully, willing the images away.
The showerhead sprayed his bare body with daggers of ice cold droplets, but the hunter didn't notice, too lost in the unwanted memories.
For almost a year, he'd wanted nothing more than to have something, anything, replace his memories of Hell; now he'd welcome them. That pain and torture was infinitely better than seeing his angel so broken.
He didn't know how long he'd been in the shower, time seemed irrelevant given the circumstances, but his legs began to tremble as the stress of his memory built. Slowly, Dean sank to his knees, until he was in a virtual foetal position on the base of the tub, cold pelting water mixing with hot tears he didn't realize he was shedding.
The barely audible rustle of air heralded Castiel's arrival. Cas' senses were instantly alert when his hunter wasn't in the room waiting for him. After the incident with Zachariah sending Dean into that horrific future, Cas had become more protective and attentive to his hunter. He knew there was more than what Dean had told him, and whatever it was ate at the man like nothing else had.
It only took a moment for Castiel to identify the sound of the shower, but, before he could calm himself, he picked up another, lighter and more terrifying sound. With a calm only an angel of the Lord (however out of favour) could muster, Castiel entered the small bathroom. Grabbing a large towel that was of much higher quality than anything the motel staff had ever placed there, Cas went to his hunter. Turning off the shower spray, he knelt outside the tub, laying the fluffy towel over Dean's shivering form.
"Dean," Cas whispered. "Dean, what happened?"
Dean kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, "Cas... can't see you like that... Cas..."
"See me how, Dean?" he asked, knowing this trauma had something to do with Zachariah and that ‘future'.
"Dead inside."
It was then the angel understood. Dean had told him the angels had abandoned the mortal world, and it didn't take a huge leap to see the implications that had on him. Dean had spoken little about Castiel's role in the future, other than to say that, yes, Cas was there with them, and it was bad. Now, Cas understood why.
"Dean." Warmth poured through his husky voice. "Dean, look at me."
When the hunter didn't respond, Castiel repeated his request, "Look at me," the command in his voice reverberated, like the mighty spiritual thing it truly was.
Green eyes opened and Castiel smiled.
"Dean, as long as I have you I will never be dead inside." Castiel kissed Dean's forehead and helped him stand.
After some token fussing on Dean's part, Cas managed to get the hunter into bed. He was about to pull up a chair to wait while his hunter got some much needed rest, when Dean's hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed.
"You. Stay." Dean's soft baritone ordered as he settled the angel next to him, spooning their bodies together.
A soft smile passed over Castiel's lips and he relaxed against his hunter. "Gladly," he whispered as the mortal drifted into a deep sleep.