theroadpaved | Open PSL

[The hint that he's done too much, gone too far, comes when Dean sticks onto that word (worried), digs in like hooks and hangs there, mistrustful. Then Dean steps out of under Castiel's hands and he pauses, hangs there frozen, eyes on Dean. Something tense and foreboding quivers in the air between them.

But Castiel...tilts his head. Ever so slightly.

For all his self-proclaimed simplicity, Dean Winchester is an incredibly complex man. Layers upon layers of interlocking motivations, instincts and behaviors sewn into each other and built upon misconceptions that he's already aware of, but with no intention to or knowledge of how to rearrange. Dean Winchester thinks peace and kindness and love are human rights...except not for him. Any gentle thing he allows himself must be masked in rituals and customs unfathomable to even himself, sometimes.]

...my mistake, [Castiel murmurs, eyes locked onto Dean's face, scrutinizing him for any clue, for any hesitation. Not just by assuming Dean was worried. He can't offer anything to Dean like that, so straightforward, so honestly. If he truly wants to give something to Dean, he must do it in a way Dean will be able to accept.

He thinks of their hands, his fingers folded over the edge of Dean's, the squeeze, his thumb, so soft. So hesitant.

His wing twinges and this time he doesn't hide the flinch. He allows himself to sway slightly, reaching out for a steadying hand.]

[ ... good. Okay. This is good. Nipped that guilt right in the bud by effectively communicating how unnecessary it is. It feels gross thinking about Cas thinking he owes him something like that. Worse than gross.

And sure, Cas keeps staring at him, but Cas Does That sometimes. He's a real Care Bear, if Care Bears had a history of trying to become God. ]

It's fine. You and me, we're good. I mean it. [ Just to make sure it's extra clear, while Dean stands here trying to brush off how harrowed he feels. They're good. They're fine. They're gonna work on figuring out what's up with his memory gap thing, they're gonna get their coffees, they're gonna do it all over again tomorrow.

Cas doesn't need to crawl his way back to the Impala on broken glass or whatever to earn that. He's here. He's. Even if it's shitty and complicated and a lot of the moving pieces leading up to today still hurt like hell, as long as he comes back at all, Dean's--

Whatever.

He's whatever. He's pathetic, mostly, he guesses.

All of which instantly goes out the window the second Cas flinches and starts swaying again. Dean could've flipped a switch: just like that he's right back in the space he stepped out of, just like that he's reaching for Cas to give him the hand he's asking for, hesitance wiped off the board by worry. He has it to give: why wouldn't he give it? ]

I got you, c'mon. If we don't make it back in the next couple hours, Sammy's gonna kill us himself.

[ Now that everyone has their issues sorted and settled and solved for forever they can focus on the important stuff like that, obviously. ]

[Like water Dean flows in again, up against Castiel and taking his hand, letting him brace against him like it's nothing. Gone is the sour distrust, the bruised anxiety of his expression when Castiel had pushed. Now, of course, this is permitted. Castiel needs him so of course Dean offers himself.

They resume the walk down to where Baby waits for them. Castiel occupies Dean's with questions; did Sam sound better? Had Sam already called anyone? Should they get something for Sam when they get their coffee? He knows the answers already having listened in on the conversation, but Dean needs to unwind and talking about Sam in a safe context is a good way to do that. The distraction allows Castiel to find a first aid kit and goad Dean into letting him at least flush his shoulder wound. Digging out the bullet will have to come once they're back to the motel but for now, at least, that'll do.

The drive is quiet and punctuated with Dean's hiss when the jostling of the car agitates his wound. Drive-through coffee turns out to be McDonald's halfway back to the motel, and Castiel holds both his and Dean's cups as he drives, handing it carefully back at red lights as they idle. Morning traffic swells the streets around them; Castiel watches as humans go about their lives, none the wiser to what they'd missed during the night. Traveling in a car has always felt so claustrophobic, but there's something almost meditative doing it now, Dean making idle observations and occasionally holding out a hand for his coffee. Maybe...he could get used to this.]

...after my wing has healed, [Cas starts, hesitatingly- but, no. The reward will be that look on Dean's face, same as before; that cracked open, painfully soft look.] It'll take time. But afterwards, I'd like to...stick around for a while.

[ Dean is happy to 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, provide the exact reward that Cas was thinking of. He looks over at Cas in the passenger seat with an immediate return on metaphorical investment. Softer than he should be by any metric. More open than he should be.

As much as he can look without crashing the car, anyway. ]

Yeah? [ Get it together. Don't sound too much like you want it, don't sound like you think he's not doing important shit on his own time when he's not around, because of course you know when he's gone it's because he has more important shit to be dealing with.

Sound like you know how to be cool about this.

If Dean fails at that last one in particular, he's hoping it'll fly under Cas's radar. ]

You-- [ NORMAL. CASUAL. ] Yeah. Yeah, man. Of course you can.

[ Stick around. For a while. On purpose. And Sam only gets a vote if Sam is gonna vote yes, and why would he not vote yes? Win-win. Now he doesn't even care that he got shot tonight tbh.

Dean girl get UP (impossible challenge, worth the suffering of being down bad). ]

Edited 2025-11-19 02:23 (UTC)

[Rewarded.

Castiel doesn't look away, can't, even as Dean turns back to face the road. Just that glimpse, just that half-strangled image on Dean's face had been- it had been-

Oh no, he wants to reach. Castiel clenches his hands in his lap. Be satisfied. It's more than enough.] You don't have to take me with you when you go talking to people, during hunts. I...understand my limitations. [You need something heavy picked up? You need somebody's brain investigated? He's there. You need to tell someone their wife died? He is not there, he is anywhere but there. Because if he's there, then Dean and Sam are going to go 'Cas what the hell are you doing.']

[ It's working. It's all coming together. Great way to cap this crappy hunt off. ]

Not exactly a bad thing to be limited at bein' a conman, right? [ Dean and Sam got it drilled in early and often. They lie and manipulate more on one job than most people do in a year. ] I mean, the rest of your people skills...

[ ........ huffs (affectionate). ]

Yeah. [ no wait ] Great to have you, though. Any time. Me 'n Sam, we, uh. We like...

[ Gestures???? Clears throat, proceeds to shut up.

He can't just say that shit. He needs to spend a year going on a murder spree about it. That's the only way. ]

[The seconds drag on so Castiel offers helpfully,] You like backup. [Obviously. What hunter doesn't like backup? Especially super strong backup that's difficult to kill.]

We like backup, [ Dean agrees readily enough. They do. Of course they do.

He holds his hand out for his coffee, so he has it to drink and not acknowledge anything he is about to say. (Obviously.) ]

Company's not bad, either.

[ Dean be like let me rizz u up: pleasepleasepleaseplease anyway that never happened. ]

[Hands coffee back once they're over the speedbump.

Kneejerk reaction is to reply that the Winchesters have got the company of each other, but he's trying this 'read between the lines' thing instead of, you know. Invasively skimming Dean's surface thoughts. Like he used to do when they first met.

This way is soooo much harder.]

...my company, [Cas clarifies, partly in question. It is, even now, a shakey concept. A big part of that is his own fault, he knows. Lots of fucking up in the past. Lying.

Hurting Sam.

Sam seems to have forgiven him for it ages ago, but Sam really shouldn't have. He hadn't known Castiel's thought process when he'd done it.]

[ Someone save Dean from having to fucking communicate. Please.

This can't be natural. It's freakin... harrowing. It's like skinning himself without even getting some pain as a distraction. ]

Yeah yours, dumbass, who else am I gonna be talking about?

[ He is so normal. He is VERY normal. ]

[Easy, big guy, he's coming to his own Earth-shattering conclusions.

He demonstrates this by being very quiet for at least three stoplights, sipping calmly at his coffee and staring out into space contemplatively. Cursed or not. Dean would rather have him. It had been touching then, too, even though Cas had known it was only because Dean had needed help. That Dean was willing to trust him even that much after what he'd done, it had meant...more than it should have, maybe.

The Impala is swinging into the motel by the time Castiel finally gets enough thoughts in order to speak.]

You'll have to forgive me for taking so long to accept it, [he murmurs into the dusty dawn light as it spills weakly across the dashboard. Every physical fiber, every metaphysical warble of him feels exhausted and warm, as if he could be capable of the kind of sleep that promises no dreams. The man scant inches to his left smells like blood and sweat and gunpowder and the hearth of a loving home.]

It's an unfamiliar concept. [To be wanted.]

[ Maybe Cas should've killed more angels. Just cleaned the whole shitty system out. That's a reasonable thought, right? ]

Well. It's still here. [ There. Here. Whichever. What wouldn't Dean carve his way through to prove it at this point? He's not so sure there's a limit to what he'd do. For Sam, for Cas.

He barely remembers what it was like to be scared of himself for that. The edges of that wore down a long time ago.

Dean chugs what's left of his coffee once they're parked. Gives his Baby a fond pat on the dash, makes himself dredge up some more energy. He thinks he's past second wind and into fifth wind by now, but that's the cost of doing business. Can't walk in and pass out or Sam'll have a conniption about it.

God knows Cas can't do all the explaining without making it sound worse than it was, either. Dean doesn't need all that, he just got Cas hanging around more (after his wing heals up) on the menu. ]

Alright, home stretch. And we're not [ NOT. ] lettin' Sam get all worked up about this.

[ He is already worked up, Dean, that's what happens. Hope that helps.

Future problem. They're gonna stumble their way in there like consummate professionals. ]

Alright. [They will make sure. Sam doesn't get worked up. Cas almost runs into a pole and Dean has a concerning-sounding cough but they will walk in so cool and collected, and Sam will be asleep and won't even wake up.

-

So Sam is not only awake, he's sitting at the little plastic table waiting for them to walk in. And he does, unfortunately, get worked up; especially when he finds out that Dean's still got a bullet in his shoulder. He insists on presiding over Cas digging it out, only holding back from being the one to remove it due to the fact that he's still coughing and hacking and thinks better of spraying all of that directly into his brother's open wound.

The excitement of making sure Dean's cleaned up properly wears him down and he crawls into bed shortly after, mumbling about brothers worrying him, ordering Dean to take the antibiotics in the kit, thanking Cas for looking after Dean and ignoring when Cas tries to tell him that Dean took care of him, and he's out within minutes of getting beneath the covers, snoring heavily, dead to the world.

Dean disappears into the bathroom to clean up, and Castiel stands. Wobbles, but cuts open a hand to begin warding the room with angel proofing.]

[ In hindsight, that was always the longest of long shots. But it means a lot that Cas is so ready and willing to commit to the doomed bit. Makes Dean feel all warm and fuzzy.

Maybe that's his imaginary pond salmonella talking.

He does his best Good Patient for Sam's sake, which means sitting very still and also ignoring Cas and his "Dean took care of me" stuff in favor of being offended Sam asked Cas to look after him in the first place. Like???? He's right here you lil bitch?

All the better to get Sam actually sleeping so that Dean can run a little cleanup, yeah. Which he even does without complaint. Because of what a good big brother he is!!! (He's gonna make fun of him for snoring tomorrow. Later.... today... whatever.)

Stop one stepping back out of the bathroom is a quick check-in to feel Sammy's forehead since he wouldn't LET Dean do it before for some dumb reason. Could be better, could be worse. They've got enough painkillers and fever reducers to give an army, though, so he'll get Sam back on that once they're back up. Guy probably forgot because of all this.

Stop two: obviously Cas's personal space. As a treat. ]

Seriously. Leave you alone for two minutes and you're bleedin' again?

[ It's a joke (its a flirt be so fr), he swears. We love quiet conversations in cheap motels around here. ]

[Sam's fever is going down, at least, the skin more sticky warm than scalding. He coughs occasionally in his sleep, and doesn't stir when Dean comes by his bed to check.

Cas likewise doesn't pay much mind when Dean makes his rounds, concentrating on painting the wards. One day Dean will understand that him cutting open his arm or hand for blood is like someone else spitting on the ground. AKA: not a big deal.]

I'm locking myself into his room, [he rumbles as quietly as possible.] Once I've finished, I won't be able to leave until someone else opens the door.

[ All Dean's little ducks in a row. It's not much, but to him it's basically everything. He'll be reserving his right to care about Cas and his stupid non-essential blood forever, though.

It's a straightforward enough answer for Dean to take up Sam's abandoned post in the crappy chair, at least. You know, watch Cas do his blood ritual, no big deal. That's basically relaxing in this household. ]

Should I ask why? [ His abandonment issues love "Cas won't be able to leave until someone lets him" like, conceptually and unrealistically. The logical mind is like girl shut up with that. Angel-safety purposes, probably. ] And how's the wing holdin' up?

[ The one Dean can't do anything to help and must therefore worry about a little extra anyway. ]

[Thinks about trying to force Dean into bed before coming to the conclusion that Dean will not get in bed until Cas is done painting and no longer bleeding. Hurries up a little bit.]

When I...lose time, [he says carefully, because it's not really blacking out, it's not being unconscious; he doesn't think so, anyway. He just...doesn't know where the time went. Doesn't know what he did with it.] When I lose time, I don't know where I go, or if I even go anywhere. This will keep me from wandering if it happens again. [Chaining himself down like a dog with dementia, so to speak.

He doesn't bother answering the wing question, since they both already know. It hurts, and there's nothing Dean can do.]

[ Life is all about choosing your battles. Dean likes to pick basically all of them. But he'll let the wing question go, conversationally-speaking. Nobody's gonna stop him from thinking about it on his own time.

There's still some pretty pressing issues at hand. ]

So you're goin' on lockdown. [ As plans go, pretty solid. It keeps Cas where they can have eyes on him. Try to work out how to help him. Can't ask for much more than that.

It's-- it's a relief. Pretty flat-out relief. Being able to do that much. ] Guess we could all use some downtime in the penalty box here.

[ Dean will rethink his individual downtime stance if a really serious hunt turns up in the next couple of days. For now, maybe Team Free Will is on ice. Personal reasons. Like having the two most important people in his life to take care of. ]

[There's not much to be said in response to that, so Cas opts to keep his words to himself. He paints a few sigils on the door itself, passes some of the strokes over the crack of the doorjamb and the door panel, and touches the completed symbols with bloodied fingers. A few words in a long-dead language, muttered low and rough, and- something descends over the room. Like shutting a window in an airtight capsule.

He's trapped.

But he's the one who trapped himself. It's...fine. It's okay.]

...you should get some sleep, [Castiel murmurs, the wound on his palm healing between the clench of his fingers with a wince. Stretching his grace even to heal his vessel throbs through his broken wing. That'll go away soon, hopefully. A day or two.]

[ He looks tired.

Genius observation, Dean. Of course he looks freakin' tired. His wing's broken, he's having blackouts, and he just sealed off the bulkheads to make himself stay in the world's tackiest submarine. He's not exactly gonna look refreshed and renewed.

Dean keeps watching him for a few seconds anyway. Makes sure the bleeding stops with his own two eyes, and that's good. ]

We're gonna figure this out, Cas. We always do. [ One way or another, at least. They'll have Sam's giant genius brain on the job before too long, and god knows that's the lynchpin of this whole operation.

In the meantime, Dean scrubs a hand through his hair and doublechecks the time, and that's about all he's got in terms of problem-solver contributions right now.

Sleep. Yeah. Probably. There's time to get in his usual before that Sammy soup run alarm on his phone goes off, give or take. ] You sure you don't want company? I can throw on a crappy movie or somethin'.

[ Not a good movie. Dean couldn't make sure Cas is paying attention to the good parts when he inevitably fell asleep anyway.

Maybe Cas wants the unobserved time to lick his wounds, though. Stare haggardly into the bathroom mirror for a while before Dean or Sam wake up to go and also stare haggardly into the bathroom mirror. Can't blame the guy for that. ]

Edited (why do i even proofread before i hit post. only to suffer immediately after) 2025-11-24 01:32 (UTC)

[Castiel doesn't even have to think about it.] No. [Dean must sleep. That he's got that phone alarm on at all is less than ideal, but Cas knows he won't be talked out of it. Maybe Sam will wake up first and stop him, but Castiel's not cruel enough to think about waking Sam up for that purpose. He'd looked exhausted himself, just standing past Castiel's shoulder and coaching him with a rough, thick voice as Castiel dug a bullet out of Dean's shoulder the 'good old fashioned' way.

As for his own time...he hasn't gotten as far as Dean in his considerations. He doesn't know what he's going to do with his time while the Winchesters sleep, but maybe he'll watch them for a little bit. Maybe he'll watch them breathe, listen to them snore. Maybe he'll skim the surface of their dreams, maybe he'll let himself stand up and come to their bedsides and touch their temples to steer them away from nightmares. Maybe he'll let himself back into that old daydream he used to have, where he was the good and righteous Castiel, and they were both enamored with him and the protection they thought he could offer.

Kind of pathetic. His heart still leaps for it.] ...you need to sleep. I'll keep an eye out.

[ Can't believe Cas doesn't want his half-dead company while he stands around in the motel room in excruciating angel pain. Nah, that's valid, let's not pretend Dean doesn't respect a person's right to suffer unobserved.

Crappy movie some other time, he guesses. ]

Sure. You do that. [ Local man unsure what else to say to that, because he assumes if he tries to be like "maybe take a load off and only keep half an eye out," it'll turn into a whole argument. Nobody's got that argument in them right now. Or the desire to get murdered by Sam for it.

Sure, man. Keep an eye out then.

Angels are watching over you, he thinks, and for the first time it's more weird and funny than something that turns sour in his stomach. Sorta-- well. It's not a bad feeling, anyway, and Dean doesn't want to try to put a name to whatever it is. He just lets his shoulders slump a little, lets out tension like one of those pipes that lets off steam so that the whole thing doesn't explode.

Cas'll have an eye out for trouble. He can't take off and get himself dead unless someone lets him out, and if that door opens, Dean is pretty damn sure he'll hear it. Sam's sleeping instead of stressing out, there's not a bullet stuck in his shoulder anymore. Everything's really coming up Dean today.

They're about as close to safe as they can get.

He levers himself back out of the chair, heads for the empty bed. Obviously he takes the detour that lets him touch Castiel's shoulder on the way past. Obviously. ]

Good work out there. [ We both lived girl, meaning the haters did NOT win. You melted at least sixty percent of a druid and said you wanted to stick around. Fantastic work, even. ] You know where to find me if you need me.

[ A little joke. A very tiny joke. Wake early at your own peril. And please do not watch him get into bed, he's about to look even less cool than he did when he was covered in pond scum. ]

["Excruciating" is a little dramatic, it's severe at most. Debilitating, crippling, sure. But he is not actively screaming and trying to die so like, it's not even that bad.

Dean's hand on his shoulder is, as usual, a confusing balm. Still not entirely sure what to do with physical touch but now pretty certain that it's good, Castiel lets himself lean into it and maybe his temple ends up tapping Dean's wrist before he withdraws. That's not weird, right

Watching Dean struggle into bed with his various aches and pains is troubling, and for the fourteenth time tonight Cas talks himself in and then back out of going up to Heaven. He has to be able to heal them. He cannot do that if he kills himself.]

Goodnight, Dean, [is all Castiel murmurs as Dean snaps off the lamp, settling into the plastic chair by the door to wait, keep watch, and recuperate.

-

Dean's alarm goes off a little over four hours later. Cas did not end up waking Dean and he's still in the plastic chair by the door, sitting placidly, gazing in the approximate direction of the beds.

...very placidly. He doesn't stir; not at the alarm, not when Dean gets up, and not once someone comes to check on him. It's like he's checked out entirely.]

[ That extra bit of touch only has to be weird if they make it weird. And Dean doesn't want to. At least this time. It makes something in him ache, something that he can't remember how to name, but he's really good at ignoring that. He always has been.

Probably one of the better sleeps he's had in the past few years, too. Stone-cold sober but still out like a light. That's rare.

Life makes him pay his penance for that almost immediately, of course. It's as good a time as any to give Sam the basic rundown on what Cas told him. If Dean leaves out the wrist-bruising, that's his business. He'll just make sure Sam stays hands-off.

He's supposed to be making that soup run, but... ]

What happens if I open that door right now, buddy. [ He specifies the buddy so that Sam doesn't think Dean's asking him shit he literally doesn't know. There's only so fast a sick man can research on the ol' laptop. And while Sam's doing the useful shit, Dean's crouching in front of Cas in the shitty plastic chair, scrutinizing his face for any signs of life. ] You gonna go all Terminator on me again?

[ You know what, this is a "put a hand on Cas's shoulder and keep it there" situation if ever there was one. Emergencies outvote intricate rituals.

The problem, which Sam agrees on, is that if this stretches out too long then they might have to open the door to see if something will happen. Even though that feels a hell of a lot like-- like letting Cas down. Trusting Dean Winchester with something like this only to be immediately disappointed???? It's more likely than you think. ]

["What the hell do you mean, again?" Sam calls sharply from where he's typing away at his laptop, trying to find the file he'd been working on with Cas's help.

Castiel doesn't move at Dean's voice or touch at first, but his head tilts so slightly, so slowly, to the side as if he's trying to listen to an unheard voice.]

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just do what i do and never proofread

ur so right

cw: suicide mention

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