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“Dean!“
Cas calls out to him as soon as he sees him. It takes most of his willpower not to break into a run, to keep his gait to something more dignified. They aren’t children anymore, people expect them to behave like adults. But he can’t help the way his heart has started beating double time when the first wagons for the spring fair arrived. And now, finally, finally, the Winchesters have joined their wagon to the carnival.
“Cas.” Dean looks up from where he was watering the horses. He smiles when Cas comes closer but it’s only his mouth that’s smiling, his eyes aren’t lighting up like they usually do when he sees Cas.
Cas’ heart takes an uncertain tumble in his chest. “Dean.” Just being able to say his name again and get an answer makes him want to give voice to his joy or to get closer, to get a hand on Dean’s shoulder to feel that he is really here, but the closed-off expression on Dean’s face stops him from both. He bites his lip. “Is something wrong?”
Dean holds his gaze for a moment, before he turns away abruptly, petting the mare’s mane. “We’re grown up now. Things are different, Cas.”
That uncertain tumble in Cas’ chest turns painful, as it solidifies into a certainty that he didn’t want to know. “You missed the fall festival,” he says, his voice suddenly small.
Dean nods mutely.
And yeah, of course Dean was aware of this fact. Cas can feel the last remnants of his original joy dissolve into thin air as the silence between them stretches.
“I gotta get back to work,” Dean finally mumbles.
“Dean,” Cas pleads, suddenly scared that if he doesn’t get Dean to talk, Dean will disappear out of his life as if he’d never been in it. “At least tell me. What happened?”
Dean looks around, checks who is in their vicinity, then shakes his head. “Can’t.”
Cas looks around, too, but no one seems to be paying much attention to them. And why would they? They travel the same routes every year. It’s not unusual to – maybe not to have friends among the townsfolk but to at least know a few people. And this town’s never had any particular problems with the carnies.
Dean rubs his neck like he’s wont to do when he’s unsure, does another quick check of their surroundings and seems to come to a decision. He mumbles, “Alright. By the old oak. After dark.”
For a few long heartbeats, Cas stares at Dean. His lines have become so much harder than they were.
“Well?” Dean prompts him, tone harsh.
“Yes,” Cas nods, waking up from his stupor. “Yes, I’ll be there.” He makes sure to keep his voice soft, both to counter Dean’s harshness and to make sure that they can’t be overheard.
“Well then, what are you standing around here still? I gotta work.” Dean turns around, dragging the mare with him.
Cas stares after him. Watches how stiffly Dean walks. How every muscle in his body seems coiled for a fight. It worries him. Worries him more than just for what it means for them. Dean’s retreating back doesn’t provide him with any answers, so he searches them out in the surrounding, walks around the fair for a while. He says idle hellos when he recognizes someone, exchanges a few platitudes or pleasantries depending on the person. There is no one else here that he knows well enough for a longer conversation. It’s always just been Dean. For as long as he can remember.
Still, Missouri Moseley not only recognizes him but also asks him to give a hand with the carpet of her tent. He hurries to help her set up. She pats him on the back after, her expression wistful. “Losses always come in threes, little one,” she tells him. “It’s just the nature of things.”
He nods, not looking her in the eyes, and hurries to get away from the fortune teller. He hadn’t even wanted to know this much, he doesn’t want to know anything else.
There is nothing different about the fair as far as he can tell, things are the same as they always are. People are shouting at each other as they erect booths and tents but their insults are good-natured and their smiles real. Nothing is different, really – apart from Dean.
Well, Cas is different, too. Not that Dean could have noticed in the few minutes that they talked. His grief settles back over Castiel’s features as the realities of his life overshadow his excitement about Dean being here. It is enough to make him turn around on his heel and leave the fair ground behind.
He makes his way back to the small house at the edge of town that he occupies alone now that his mother is dead and his brother is gone. Cas is not opposed to living alone per se but he has to admit that he never really appreciated what need for creature comfort having his mother and his brother under the same roof satisfied. Being alone, he has forgotten how to sleep through the night, always being woken by this noise or that. With a sigh, he opens his front door. There is not even a cat to greet him, though he hopes that now that it’s spring some farmer who doesn’t want the kittens running around his yard will give a pair of siblings to him.
He makes himself a cup of tea but decides not to eat quite yet. Instead, he packs a loaf of bread and some hearty cheese into a knapsack. Had he known that Dean would be here today, he’d have baked the last of the winter apples into a pie. As much as might have changed about Dean otherwise, Cas doesn’t think this has changed. Dean is always hungry and he’s got a bit of a sweet-tooth that Castiel enjoys satisfying whenever possible.
Of course, the thought of baking sweets unerringly leads him back to his own pain, seeing that the other person he knows who’s always had a bit of a sweet-tooth had left him last summer and hasn’t been heard from since.
‘Now that she’s dead, I have to go find my own path. You should do the same, brother,’ Gabriel had said, the few belongings he wanted to take already packed into a sturdy pack.
Castiel had not answered but he’d given his brother most of the money that their mother had saved over the years. It wasn’t much but he hopes that it helps.
Cas sighs. His thoughts point back to the losses the last year has brought for him with the same reliability with which the North star points North. He deliberately averts his thoughts from the past to the next few hours and adds an empty jar to his bundle before shouldering it and heading back out.
It’s too early in the year to collect honey from the hives, the winter barely gone and the new flowers just starting to bloom. But Cas left more than enough for the bees to get through the winter and if he takes only a little from each hive, the bees won’t starve and he’ll have a present for Dean, even if he can’t give him pie.
He remembers Dean’s cold voice, we’re grown up now, and for a moment he wonders whether Dean will even accept the gift. But Dean’s nothing if not practical and even if Dean tells him that everything’s changed, that the affection he once held for Castiel now belongs to someone else, even then, Castiel thinks Dean would not refuse food. Though Cas hopes that Dean knows him well enough that he knows that there are no strings attached to this present. That Cas does not want anything in exchange for it.
He can feel the blood rush into his face at the shame the thought produces. Like he’s trying to buy Dean’s affection, or even his friendship. He doesn’t, though. He cares about Dean, more than about any other person that’s still alive, with maybe the exception of his brother. But his brother is gone and has made it clear that he will not come back, so Cas cannot give him any honey.
No, Cas decides determinedly, he’ll make it clear to Dean that this present has no strings. He’ll give it to him even if all Dean does is add to the losses of the past year. Which Cas is almost certain now that he will. Because Missouri is right, of course. Like all important things, losses come in threes. His mother, his brother, Dean. In one fell swoop, that is the loss of everyone who ever was important to Castiel.
“Well, I guess I’ll still have you.” He tries to smile at his bees and makes sure not to let his sadness bleed into sloppiness because that’s the fastest way to get stung.
He’s calculated his route right, has gone by all his hives when the sun begins to set and only has to find his way back to their meeting place.
For the first time, the thought comes up that Dean might not actually be there. That he might have named a time and place just to get rid of Castiel. But no, Cas shakes his head at his own folly. Dean knows him too well. Knows that they both have a stubborn streak that matches the other’s. Knows that Castiel would march right back into the encampment to try to talk to Dean there. And if Dean didn’t even want to be seen talking to Cas in broad daylight, with three feet of space between them and nothing but pleasantries to be exchanged, he won’t risk a confrontation.
Cas’ eyebrows draw together. All of this would make more sense if it was Cas insisting on the secrecy. It had always been the townsfolk that had been wary of their friendship, throwing suspicious glances their way when they strolled through the center of the town together. Like Dean was going to rob their houses any minute. The travelling folks on the other hand had usually laughed when Dean dragged Cas through the maze of tents and wagons to show him some new trick he had learned from a performer or a new exotic animal that hadn’t been there last year.
Though of course, their private meeting space by the old oak tree had had other advantages. Away from prying eyes, a hand that had been innocently held by one’s side while there were people close might slip into the sweaty hand of another boy when there was no one to watch. A small cave in the mud next to the riverbank might serve as an enclosure with just enough space, if two bodies pressed together tight. Cas’ first kiss had been next to that oak tree, a moment of bravery that left Dean red-faced and both of them out of breath and that needed immediate repetition.
Cas has a feeling that kisses are not in his immediate future today. A cold knot of dread forms in his stomach that grows the closer he gets to his destination. It slows his steps. Dragging this out will give him a few more minutes to hold onto the last connection that he has. Once that is severed, Cas will be truly and utterly alone. He shudders. He does not relish the thought, even though he knows he will be able to bear it.
He’s timed his arrival well, the last vestiges of light disappearing from the world as he reaches the river. He follows its familiar run for another half mile and then it looms in front of him. The old oak tree. The place they have found when they weren’t taller than the tall grass in summer. The place that’s been theirs ever since.
For a moment, he fears again that Dean hasn’t come. But then the leaves rustle and Dean drops out of the spring foliage of the tree. His hair is tinted in blue by the failing light and Cas thinks that maybe it is a blessing that he can’t see Dean’s expression all that well.
“Hello, Dean.” He says it quietly, almost a question.
“Heya, Cas.” Dean puts his hands in his pockets, embarrassed and closed off in a way that Cas is not used to.
“I brought food.” Cas holds up the knapsack as if to prove his words.
“I don’t need your charity.” The anger barely covers up the pain and this, this is familiar ground. They’ve had this fight before.
“I care for the bees now. I went to check on the hives. I didn’t have time to eat dinner yet.” He walks past Dean to their spot by the river. He’s torturing himself, he knows, but he still sits down. “Are you coming?”
For a heartbeat, it looks like Dean won’t. But then he climbs down to sit next to Cas. Their spot hasn’t grown in the last year. Neither have they anymore, and Cas doesn’t think either of them has filled in their forms as much as could have been expected. With Cas, it’s because the grief kept him from being hungry. With Dean, a simple lack of food is the most likely reason.
Cas opens his bag and takes out the bread. He divvies it up evenly, holding one half out to Dean. Again, Dean hesitates, but his stomach grumbles at the smell of freshly baked bread, and he gives in. Cas divvies up the cheese as well, this time getting away with giving the slightly bigger half to Dean by immediately breaking down his own half into smaller pieces.
They eat in silence. Their arms brush with every movement, their thighs pressed against each other for lack of other space to be. Cas has to keep his feet out of the water, does not want his boots to get wet. Dean is barefoot but he, too, makes sure not to let his feet touch the icy stream. It is different in fall, when the summer was long and warm and the waters have retained the heat of the sun. They always go for a swim then, innocently, when they were younger, not quite as innocently in later years.
When they have eaten their last bites, stomachs full and lazy, Cas thinks this is the best time to give Dean his gift. Dean is more lenient when he’s not hungry and this will go over easier before Dean says what he has to say. So Cas fishes in the depths of his bag and carefully produces the jar. He presses it into Dean’s hand. “For you.”
“Cas…”
But Cas doesn’t let him talk. “It’s honey, from my bees. They’re strong and their honey is healthy. If you don’t want it, give it to Sam. I know how he gets a cough in winter.”
Cas planned the argument as blackmail of sorts, Dean’s care for his brother trumping his pride at all times, but by the way every muscle in Dean’s body tenses it’s the wrong thing to say. Suddenly, Cas is afraid.
“Dean, did something happen to Sam?” he asks urgently, already dreading the answer. “Did he get hurt? Did he get more sick than normal this winter?”
“No. No, nothing of the sort,” Dean shakes his head, though his tone is too dark for any relief to come. “You might still want to keep your honey.”
Dean holds the glass back out to him but Cas refuses to take it back. “Dean, what happened?” he asks again, attempting once more to figure out what went wrong, though the fear in his heart is now less for himself and more for Dean.
Dean grumbles like it’s an inconvenience to keep the honey when he closes his hand around the jar, but Cas doesn’t miss how tightly he holds on to it, his knuckles turning white in the first rays of the rising moon. “Sam’s gone,” he finally says, quiet enough that the wind almost blows it away. Like saying it any louder will make it even more real. Then suddenly he laughs, a bitter sarcastic laugh, not a pinch of mirth in it, and his voice turns loud anyway. “Not gone as in dead. Though if you’d talk to my father you’d believe otherwise. No, just gone as in gone. Found a merchant’s family to teach him the alphabet and decided to stay. Guess the family he already had wasn’t good enough anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Cas says, Dean’s pain ripping at his heart.
“It’s fine.” Dean shrugs with an air of affected nonchalance though his voice doesn’t lose its edge. “I gather you’d understand him well. Your letters are important to you. You’d get bored in the company of stupid folks. Just like he did.”
I’d never get bored if I was allowed to be with you, Cas wants to say but he doubts that it’s what Dean wants to hear, so he settles for, “You’re not stupid, Dean.”
Dean huffs but the anger he’s shown before falls in on itself, giving way to a weariness that Cas thinks goes bone-deep. “You only see me twice a year for the few days of the fair. You don’t even know me, Cas.”
Cas wants to shakes his head, wants to deny that, wants to say that Dean’s the person he knows best in the world because it’s true. But the words get stuck in his throat because it’s true but the truth doesn’t count for much. Not when the person he knows best in the world and who knows him best in the world, is someone he only sees for a week every six months. Dean is right about that part. That is all that was ever given to them.
“I can’t do this anymore, Cas. This, us. You gotta understand. My Dad would have my hide if he knew I was talking to you at all, ‘specially now after Sam. And if he knew…,” Dean trails off with a shake of his head. “Anyway, I have a family business to take over, seeing how Sam ain’t gonna do it. So whatever… whatever I thought might be a possibility in the future, it’s not. And it’s no use clinging on to something impossible. ‘S better to make a clean break and spare ourselves the pain.”
Cas stares at Dean. He knows he’s staring, knows that it’s rude and that people keep calling him out for staring too much, but amidst that whole rant of Dean breaking up with him it sounded almost like – like Dean had contemplated staying. Like Dean had thought that maybe some day after a spring festival he wouldn’t move on with the caravan. Like he was planning a future for them. One where they’d see each other every day. And that, that is something that they have never talked about. Something that Cas in his wildest dreams hasn’t dared to hope. Oh, he loves Dean. He loves him with all his heart and has done so for such a long time that he can’t even remember what it felt like when Dean hadn’t had a place in his heart. But Dean, Dean has always been wild and free and Cas had never wanted to curb any of that freedom. He didn’t begrudge it to Dean, as long as Dean came back to him at every equinox.
He tilts his head, tries to will the moonlight to become brighter, to be better able to puzzle Dean out. Because this, this changes things. This changes his whole perception of Dean.
Meanwhile, Dean shrugs uncomfortably under Cas’ scrutiny. “I’ve thought about it and it’s for the best. I mean, you know your letters and your herbs and apparently you’ve got bees now and you’re way smart and it was always clear that you should never have become friends with me in the first place.”
But there’s an uncertainty in Dean’s voice that gives Cas the courage to ask, “Friends? Is that what we are?”
“Come on, Cas. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
“Whatever else we are or aren’t, tell me. Am I your friend, Dean?” Cas insists.
Dean makes a face but he grumbles. “Yeah. ‘Course you are.”
“Then you owe me enough respect to tell me, Dean. Tell me the truth.” For a heartbeat, Cas is shocked about himself. About the way his voice comes out loud and demanding when the whole day he’s felt small and like everything is already lost.
It makes an impression on Dean, too, if not the one Cas wanted. “What truth, Cas? What do you want to hear?” Dean asks, his own voice back to angry as well. “That I’m not good enough for you? Is that it? That there’s a reason why townies are afraid of us? Because we’ll always just take what we want and then move on? Do you want me to tell you that? Because I can.”
“You always came back,” Cas interrupts him harshly. “You’ve never once let me down. What you’re saying right now is not who we are.”
“And who are we, Cas, huh? What are we other than children who refuse to grow up and see the truth of things. That townies and carnies don’t fit. That people who know their letters and people who live on the road don’t fit. We’ve never fit, Cas! It’s always just been a dream, lived for no longer than a few days in a row…” There’s a hitch in Dean’s breath and a break in his voice and he shuts his mouth abruptly, lips pressed together tightly.
Cas gets it, somehow on a level beyond the hurt he gets it, why Dean wants to believe this. Why he’s trying not just to break them right now but to break all the memories they’ve made as well. Why it would be easier if they’d never existed. But somewhere over the course of this conversation Cas has decided to fight. So he crosses his arms and doesn’t give in. “You’re wrong,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re wrong and you know it.”
“You and I never fit, Cas! We were never – whatever stupid childhood fantasy we thought we were1”
“You don’t even believe that yourself,” Cas bites. “I do know you, Dean, and you’re none of the things your father says you are. And for that matter, I am none of the things he says about townies, either.”
That shuts Dean up. Cas isn’t sure that it’s in a good way, though, seeing how heavily Dean is breathing. Cas uncrosses his arms, softens his stance, though he doesn’t touch Dean. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea right now.
“You are my friend, Dean. You are more than that, too. And if your feelings have changed, if that is not what I am to you anymore, then I will accept it. I never wanted to take your freedom. But I will not give in to outside force.”
Because he sees it now. Sees it in the way Dean holds himself. In the way his harshness rings hollow. He is a son fulfilling his duty and no freer than Cas. In fact, Cas might be the freer one of them now, because with the passing of his mother and the disappearance of his brother, the tethers Cas has in this world are purely the ones of his own choosing. Dean being the first and foremost among them. Even though it doesn’t seem that that fact made it through Dean’s thick skull yet.
“I’m not willing to give you up without a fight, Dean.” It’s as plain as he can state this and it feels right. For the whole day, or rather, for the whole last year, he’s felt lost and like he had no choice in the cards fate dealt him. But now he can feel his eyes sparkle in the moonlight and it might not be impressive, drawing himself up to his whole height while they’re sitting crammed together in their small spot, but he does it anyway. Because it feels right. Because this feels like something worth fighting for. Because Dean is worth fighting for.
And it does have an impact, too. Oh, Dean isn’t cowed, Cas doesn’t think. But his eyes slip from Cas’ eyes towards his mouth and Dean’s tongue wets his lips before his eyes quickly dart back up again.
“Seriously, Dean?” Cas huffs, though the edge of annoyance is almost drowned out by the sudden fondness. This, at least, hasn’t changed between them.
The moonlight is getting stronger by the second and Cas thinks he can even see a hint of Dean’s blush. It is a shame that it isn’t daytime. That the freckles don’t stand out the way they deserve.
But then Dean’s face falls. The harshness from before does not come back but what’s on Dean’s face now is incredibly much sadder.
“I lied, Cas.” Dean whispers. “Sam didn’t just disappear one morning. He’d have never made it away if it had been like that.” He swallows heavily. “I helped him, Cas. I knew what it would mean. And I still did it.” His voice breaks on the last words.
And suddenly, Cas can’t hold on to his anger any longer. “You sacrificed your own happiness for him.”
Dean turns his head away, like he doesn’t want to face this truth. But he still answers. “He’s my brother, Cas. I had to make sure he was okay.”
“I understand,” Cas nods. Because he does. Even though he’s never been this close to his own brother, he still had given him what he could and let him go just the same.
“I had – I had a little bit of money saved. It’s silly, probably, and I hadn’t actually planned on telling you. Thought it was better if you thought that I…” Dean shrugs helplessly. “But all of that money went with Sam. And my Dad – I can’t leave him alone, man.”
“He’s always been shitty to you,” Cas points out.
“Yeah,” Dean nods. “I had the hope that his temper might settle some without Sam there to piss him off, but now he’s just pissed off that Sam’s not there. So yeah, that didn’t work out. He’s still my Dad, though, y’know? And he’s – he can’t run the business on his own. He’s just…”
“… too drunk.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.
“Yeah,” Dean nods, and from the way his shoulders hunch, he’s embarrassed by it.
Cas doesn’t see any reason why Dean should be embarrassed. His father’s faults are not his. But that’s also a discussion that they’ve had before, and it’s always been fruitless. The other part of what Dean said? That’s something new. And it makes his heart beat faster at the same time that he thinks he must have misheard. He clears his throat awkwardly. “You had saved money?” he asks and it comes out timid and shy.
Dean hunches in on himself even further but he nods.
“What were you going to use it for?” Cas has to force the sentence out, his voice wants to disappear on him so much.
“Does it make a difference?” Dean asks, defensive.
“Yes,” Cas nods. “Yes, it makes a difference to me.” Because there’s this glimmer of hope that shines bright in his chest. Hope like he hasn’t felt in months.
Dean lets his feet dangle into the water after all, hissing as the sudden coldness splashes around his toes. Cas waits him out. Dean is quick with words when they’re jokes and flirting or lies and deflection. He needs his time to find them when it’s about something that’s close to his heart.
“I’ve got nothing to offer you, Cas,” Dean’s voice is reluctant when he finally talks. “And I can’t ask your family for your hand. But I thought, if I had some money, I could maybe, I dunno. Find a place to stay and see if I could find steady work around here. And once I had work, I thought…” He shrugs. “Was no more than a daydream anyway.”
“You would have stayed?” Cas asks astounded. “For me?”
Dean gives him a pained smile in return that is answer enough. And that, that turns Castiel’s world upside down. Because if Dean could contemplate staying, then maybe Castiel could contemplate –
“What do they think about us?” Cas asks. “Your people. Do they even know about us?”
Because it’s true, in town, Dean couldn’t have asked for Cas’ hand in marriage. Could not, in fact, be openly together with him at all. Even the fact that they were friends was suspicious enough for the neighbors.
Dean shrugs. “Sammy knew. Most of the others probably have their own thoughts about it. It’s not like I care all that much what anyone else thinks.”
And that’s maybe true but it’s not what Cas needs to know. “No, Dean, I mean – if it came to that, would they let us live? Together?”
Dean looks at him like he’s grown two heads, and yeah, it is probably insane. Giving up a life that is – not perfect but comfortable and safe. Where he’s almost sure he’ll never look starved like Dean. Where he knows everyone and everything and knows that he can always fulfill the duties that are asked of him.
“Dean?”
“Dude,” Dean shakes his head. “That almost sounded like…”
“Yes?”
“Like you’re asking my hand in marriage,” Dean says, his expression flabbergasted.
“Wouldn’t I have to be asking your father, though?” Cas asks back, much more deadpan than he feels. Because this… If this… Losses come in threes.
“Uh, right,” Dean grimaces. “Let’s not do that, okay?”
But that, that sounded more like the Dean Cas knows. And that makes the hope in his chest flare bright. “So if I – if I asked you?”
“I’d tell you you’re crazy, Cas,” Dean answers, though the flicker of pain passing his face betrays his even tone. “You hardly even know me, man.”
And Cas has had enough of that argument. It is not true. “Your favorite food is apple pie with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Because that’s the way Ellen makes it. Ellen is not your mom but she might as well be, just as Jo might be your sister. You only have the one brother, though, Sam, and keeping him safe and fed has always been more important to you than keeping yourself safe and fed.” Cas stops with his list of things he knows about Dean then because that last example brings another thought. One that brings the knot in his stomach back. “All of these years, I’ve tried to keep you safe and fed in the time I had with you. To do what you won’t do for yourself. But I,” he turns his head away, ashamed, “I don’t actually know whether I could still do that if I came with you. I don’t know your trade. You’d have to teach me.” When Dean doesn’t answer anything, the hope that had been building in Cas deflates. “I have nothing to offer to you, either. Nothing but a promise that I’d try.” He hangs his head. “You can still come by, you know,” he whispers. “You don’t have to talk to me or anything. But I’m gonna – I’m always gonna have some bread. Or a jar of honey. Or some apples for a pie. At least you won’t go hungry for those few days every year.”
“Cas!” And suddenly Dean’s hand isn’t wrapped around the honey jar anymore, it’s wrapped around Cas’ knee, shaking it. His eyes are bright in the moonlight, almost feverish. “That’s not why I come back! That’s not why I’m here! You know that, right?” There is an intensity in Dean’s voice, a fire in his gaze, like this is the most important question he’s ever asked. Like his life depends on the answer.
And yet, he doesn’t wait for it. Instead, he leans in, wrapping his hand around the back of Cas’ head, pulling him in. Cas goes easily, too surprised to react at first, but not fighting his way out of Dean’s grip even when Dean’s mouth comes down on his. The kiss is hard, claiming. Dean’s making a point and Cas melts into it. Allows himself this. Allows his weight to sag forward to be caught by Dean. Who’s too thin, yes, but he’s strong and wiry and he holds Cas up easily. Brings them together with ease. And they’ve been sitting with their thighs touching for the whole night, but this, now, is the first time that Cas actually allows himself to feel it. Allows the heat of Dean’s body to seep into him. Allows his own fingers to find Dean and hold on.
Cas knows he makes a terribly embarrassing sound of loss when Dean pushes away, but Dean only shushes him quietly, a frown on his face as he runs his thumb over Cas’ face. “You’re crying, love,” he observes.
And Cas hadn’t noticed, had gotten lost in the feeling of Dean’s skin on his, human touch something that he’s missed since his brother left, Dean’s touch something that he’d missed for twelve long months, but now that Dean says it, a loud sob immediately wracks his body. He can feel the heat rising to his face. Dean was kissing him, Dean didn’t want him to make a scene. But when he tries to turn away, tries to hide until he can compose himself, Dean doesn’t let go. In the opposite, he draws him closer. Not to kiss, this time, but to wrap his arms around Cas’ shoulders and offer his shoulder as pillow to cry into.
Cas takes the offer, too. He hides his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and cries all the tears that he’s suppressed for so long. He has no way to stop them anyway.
Dean rubs a hand over his back, slow circles that get bent out of shape whenever a sob jerks Cas’ whole body, but Dean always picks the soothing motion back up.
“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this. I never wanted to make you cry. I’m sorry.” Dean keeps up a quiet stream of apologies, whispered into Cas’ hair, and only occasionally broken by a kiss to his ear, to his hair, to his forehead.
It still takes a while, a long while, until Cas’ gets his tears under control enough that he thinks his voice might hold if he tries to talk. He doesn’t push away, keeps his face hidden in Dean for now. But he nudges at Dean. “Stop it.” His voice cracks around the edges and he has to clear his throat.
Meanwhile, Dean freezes mid-motion.
“Not that.” And Cas would laugh if he wasn’t sure that would make him look completely insane. “The apologies, you assbutt. None of this is your fault. I’m not crying because of you.”
The explanation doesn’t seem to help because Dean is still frozen and when Cas chances a glance, Dean looks down at him with a frown. So Cas loosens his grip where he had tugged at Dean’s shirt and wraps his arms around Dean’s middle. Draws him as close as he can to make sure Dean understands his meaning.
Dean relents then, pulls his own arms tighter around Castiel again as well. “You’re gonna have to explain that one, buddy. Cause I’m pretty sure here that this here is my fault.”
“It’s not,” Cas shakes his head stubbornly.
But when he opens his mouth to explain, to say the actual words my mother died and my brother left, I’m all alone now, nothing comes out. He tries a second time but the words don’t want to pass his lips. He’s never had to explain this before. Everyone here knows everyone else and knows everything that happens. There was never any need to find words.
Well, maybe there isn’t a need for it now, either.
“Come on,” he says and presses a kiss to Dean’s lips just because he can. Because Dean still wants his kisses. And for all that there’s still snot stuffing up his nose from crying, that makes his heart sing. “I’ll show you.”
He pulls Dean to his feet, who still looks all sorts of confused, and yeah, Cas can’t keep the happiness over his discovery that Dean still wants to be with him from his face and together with his insistence of showing Dean what made him cry that’s probably sending all sorts of mixed signals. But he pushes on, snatching up his bundle without letting go of Dean’s hand. Dean grabs the honey and stumbles after him until they fall into step.
It’s not a short walk from their tree to Cas’ house. Especially since he guides them through the woods, avoids the town and the fair grounds both. But he doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand and Dean’s step are even and sure next to his. He might be confused, but he is not questioning what Cas is doing. Cas is thankful for it.
For all the years that they’ve known each other, it’s only been a handful of times that Cas has smuggled Dean into his house. And that was early on when they were children and neither of them understood the consequences of their actions very well. The older they got, the more circumspect they became. And after a while, it served them well enough, meeting out of sight and outside of hearing range. The older they got, the more they valued the time they could steal just for themselves.
So it’s no wonder that now when Cas pulls Dean into the clearing that leads to his house, Dean’s feet drag.
“Cas…” There is hesitance in his voice, saying clearly that he thinks this isn’t a good idea, though his hand still rests securely in Cas’.
“It’ll be okay,” Cas assures and moves forward.
Cas waits for the moment when Dean notices. That there’s no light in the windows. That the only illumination comes from the moon above. It happens when they are about ten paces out. Dean stops abruptly, bringing Cas to a hold with him. “You live alone.”
It’s not a question but Cas still answers. “I do. There is no one but me now.”
A shudder runs through Dean. “I’m sorry, Cas.”
This time, Cas nods and lets the sentence stand. At least Dean’s sorry for the right thing now.
When Cas starts moving again, Dean follows him into the house without protest. Inside, Cas has to let go of him to light the oil lamp. It’s dirty and it smells like tar, but he sells the nice beeswax candles and uses cheaper lighting for himself.
The house itself is small and less than tidy. Cas thought it might look bigger, now that he was living here alone, than it had looked before, when there were three inhabitants. But in truth, it had always been cramped and neither his mother nor his brother had taken many possessions onto their respective journeys.
“It’s bigger than a wagon,” Dean remarks, and it’s uncanny, how he picks up on Cas’ trail of thought without even trying.
“Lonelier, though,” Cas answers and only now, with Dean standing in the middle of the single room that is his first floor, does the full truth of that statement hit him. His knees wobble with it and he puts a hand on the table to steady himself.
Dean nods, though he doesn’t look back at Cas, instead turns on his axis to take the room in from all angles. When his eyes finally land back on Cas, there is something new there that Cas hasn’t seen before. Suddenly, Cas’ hope shines bright again.
Dean moves a hesitant step closer, puts a hand on the book that’s open on the table. He touches the pages reverently even though it’s a small volume, bound carefully but the writing of average quality. Still, books are always a treasure. “Your mother taught you your letters.”
“Yes,” Cas agrees. She’s always had the hope that Castiel might honor his Godly name and choose to become a priest. Needless to say, that she was right out of luck on that front.
“There’s always demand for that. People need letters written or read to them. Letters whose contents they don’t want their neighbors to know. Sometimes they send the letters with us as well, to deliver them to one of the towns we come through.”
Cas’ mouth hangs open. A profession. Dean is offering him a profession. And with it a place in his life. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice disbelieving to his own ears.
Dean looks around the dark room again, the flame of the small lamp barely reaching all corners. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that you were alone.” He says it like it is the worst fate he can imagine. And maybe it is. To Dean, family is everything.
“And you would – find a space for me?” Cas asks, having to make sure that he’s not misunderstanding.
“There’s always the space Sam left behind.” The mention of his brother sends a pang of pain to Dean’s eyes but it’s gone as fast as it came. “Though to tell you the truth, sharing a wagon with my Dad is – less than pleasant. I could try to reach an arrangement with someone. Ellen, maybe. See whether we could work something out.”
“Dean, -”
But Dean shakes his head, breaks his sentence off. “There’s no need. A week. We’re here for a week. If you – if you still feel then like you feel today, I’ll have a space ready for you. And if you don’t,” Dean shrugs, “well, I guess I’ll see you in fall.”
“A week is all I need,” Cas says, still dazed from this development but allowing some excitement to seep in. “I need to find someone for the bees. And for the house. Can I bring the chickens?”
That, for the first time today, brings a mirthful chuckle from Dean. “Yes, Cas, you can bring the chickens.”
“Good! That’s good!”
It isn’t quite as easy as Cas expects. In the end, he sells his bees to the hermit living in the forest at a price that is too low. But it gives him some money to bring on his journey and he knows that his bees are in good hands.
As for the house, no one here has the money or goods to buy it, not after the long winter. But Inias and his wife have a new baby, and they live in a house that they’re sharing with Inias’ three siblings and their partners and with their parents and grandparents. So when Cas asks them whether they want to live in his house for free, to look after it and to keep the garden in shape, he gets hugged hard from the couple who can’t believe their good luck.
Cas packs more than his brother did, three big bundles, all the food that he has, plus the chickens. He stacks all of it on top of a cart before carefully closing the front door behind himself. He’s going to go by Inias next, to tell him they can move in.
But before he goes, Cas stands there for a long moment, looking at his house in the afternoon sun. He’s spent all of his life in this house.
Losses always come in threes.
Missouri’s voice echoes in his mind but now the memory is fond. The words have lost their danger. He loses one life, yes, but he’s gaining another.
With a smile, Cas sets out on the first steps of the new path.