Chapter Text
It’s been weeks since they last heard from Castiel. Dean is worried out of his mind. He never should’ve let Cas leave the bunker. He wanted Cas gone, yes, but not gone as in out of reach and nowhere to be found. Dean was pissed at him. Maybe he still is. But the horrible fear of something bad happening to Castiel has long overshadowed that anger.
He wishes he had stopped him. He never wanted Cas to leave but he was too much of a coward and too prideful. Out of all the mistakes he had made, this one is the one that he hates himself the most for.
Dean feels like a fuck up.
Probably because he is one, at least in his mind. His self-hatred has never been so crippling. He has been drinking himself half to death, just to forget. Just so he feels like he doesn’t care. Just to not think of Cas and how much he must have hurt him. How much Cas must be happy now that he isn't chained to Dean, like a prisoner is bound to a leg-chain with an iron ball, making it hard, nearly impossible to move forward. Or when thrown into water, the weight pulls you down to the bottom and drowns you.
That’s what he is to Cas.
Every morning he wakes up with a raging migraine from having drank too much the night before. But he never takes any medicine. He deserves this pain. He deserves to suffer for all the pain he caused. He tries to reason with himself. That Cas was partially responsible for his mother’s death. That he messed up with Belphegor and that Rowena had to die because of it. But those are just excuses.
He never pushed Cas away before when he made mistakes. When he tried to play God, or when he let Lucifer in. Not even when he made the angels fall and not even when he ran off with Kelly. He always forgave him. Always gave him a second, a third, a fourth chance. He would always give him another chance. So why did he not this time?
His guilt is eating him alive. So every morning, day, evening and night, he drank. To drown it all out. And if it killed him? Good. It’s more than he deserves anyway. Death would be mercy. He doesn’t deserve to die and ”find peace” or whatever.
Dean’s breakfast consists of whiskey, his dinner of beer and maybe a protein bar, his supper is whatever Sam forces into him using various threats. Dean knows Sam can tell something is wrong. And many times he approaches Dean, but he won’t have any of it. Every ”Just talk to me” and ”Are you okay?” makes Dean wanna hurl. Lock himself in his room, or go on a hunt and hope it ends badly.
He thinks about how all he does is disappoint and hurt and kill all the people he loves and cares for. Friends and family. They all leave or die.
But he can’t give up. No matter how much he feels hopeless. Even if he corrupts everything he touches. He has to suck it up, because there is another threat. Another big bad monster to be taken care of. And he won’t leave Sam to take care of Chuck alone. He won’t leave the world to fend for itself, no matter how badly he thinks of himself. If he causes so much pain to his loved ones, saving the world can atone for a part of it.
Dean tries every day not to call Cas. He always gives in. After 2 days of calling him, Castiel’s phone went straight to voicemail. Dean wasn’t surprised. Cas probably blocked him after all the calling and voice messages. He’s probably fed up with Dean. And Dean didn’t, and still doesn’t, blame him. Even he is fed up with himself.
But Dean keeps calling Cas, even if it just goes straight to voicemail. Because he can listen to Cas’s voice as he says ”this is my voice mail, make your voice a mail”. He heard it the first time he called him after he left, it made him laugh, and then break down in tears.
He really does deserve all the pain and suffering. He isn’t worthy of Castiel's loyalty and friendship. And the realisation hits Dean harder than anything. Hurts more than a knife to the gut. It feels like he failed Cas. Cas who always had their back. Cas who no matter what he was dealing with, always came through and helped them. Cas who always came when Dean called.
So Dean wants to do the one thing that makes him matter to the world. The one good thing that he is best at. Hunting.
Instead he gets sent on a supply run by Sam.
-
Dean heads out to the town. Once in Lebanon, he finds a liquor store and stocks up on his poison. He will have to smuggle it into his room, so as to not worry Sam. He doesn’t have to know how bad Dean’s mental state is. It’s enough that Sam noticed he hasn’t been eating much of anything and that he spends all his time in his room or the Dean cave, when they’re not on hunts that is.
His next stop is the grocery store. He parks the Impala close to the building and gets out of the car. The freezing winter air hurts his lungs and makes snot run down his nose. His eyes burn against the icy wind and he feels his fingertips going numb already. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and lets his feet carry him to the store.
Walking up to the entrance, something catches his eye. A cat. It’s huddled into a ball and visibly shaking. Not abnormal considering the time of year. It looks like it’s starving, its bones are poking out from under his skin. Its fur is matted and tangled, slightly gray where dirt is smeared and dried on it. It’s hard to make out the true colour of its fur.
Dean hesitates before slowly approaching the scared animal. He lowers himself down to a crouch, careful not to make the poor thing freak out and run away. The cat stands up and for a moment Dean thinks it’s going to bolt, but instead it steps forward, toward him. He reaches out with a hand and the cat smells it, nudges it with its nose and then rubs its head against his palm. Dean smiles, and notices its eyes are a vibrant blue. A little sparkle like an electric current, goes off behind the cat's irises.
They look familiar in a way Dean can’t explain. Maybe they just remind him of the eyes of his angel. But they are beautiful, and full of adoration. Dean can’t help but melt under its gaze.
”What are you doing out here, buddy? Poor thing. You gotta be freezing.” He whispers, his breath turning to fog in the icy air.
The feline steps carefully, closer to him, now it’s practically in between his legs. He keeps petting it, rubbing in some warmth with his own hand. Dean scratches it behind its ear and the cat purrs.
”I’ll buy you some grub, huh? You hungry?” The cat meows loudly as a confirmation. ”Yeah, thought so. You wait here, I'ma go in and get some stuff.”
He stands up and goes into the store. He grabs the cat food first so that he doesn’t end up forgetting it. Next on the list is beer, some kinda junk to eat, for himself, Sam’s muesli cereal and rabbit food he insisted that Dean get him. He pays with the credit card from Charlie and walks back out.
He heads to his car to put the groceries away, before returning to where the cat was, but it’s not there. He looks up and down the sidewalk, and finds no sign of the little guy.
Too bad, wish I coulda helped it. Dean walks over to the driver's door and there it is. Sitting right in front of the door. As if it knows this car is his. Dean chuckles.
”Showed up just in time, buddy. I was gonna drive off cause I couldn’t find you.” He takes the can of cat food he stuck in his pocket, opens it and lays it on the ground. The cat rushes to it immediately and eats the whole thing within minutes.
”You really were starving, huh? Well, glad I could help.” And after a moment of petting it again, adds: ”You gotta find yourself a warm place to stay. You stay out here, man, you’re gonna freeze to death.”
Dean stands up and gets into the driver’s seat. However before he can close the doors, the cat sits down between the doors and the vehicle.
”Oh, come on.” He mutters. The cat moves to place its front paws on the edge of the door frame. ”No, nuh-uh, this ain’t happening. Sorry buddy, can’t take you with me. Where I’m going ain’t really animal friendly. Besides, Sammy will tear me a new one.”
Dean looks at the cat. Its big blue-as-the-sky eyes look at him pleadingly. When Dean shakes his head, it starts meowing. The hunter looks away and has to close his eyes. He can’t stand the misery pooling in the cat's eyes. The meowing starts getting louder until it's practically howling. Dean looks back down at it and the cat immediately stops. He scowls at it. It makes a quiet, broken noise.
”Fine.” He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. ”Probably gonna regret this but… okay.” He nods his head toward the other side of the car, signaling for it to get in the car through the other doors. ”You’re getting in over there.”
He scoots over to the passengers doors and opens them from the inside. The small creature hops onto the leather seat and Dean shuts the door behind it, returning to the driver's side.
”Don’t pee or poop on the leather cause you're gonna regret it.” He points a finger at the cat, giving it a stern look. He lowers his hand and maneuvers out of the parking lot.
After about five minutes Dean yelps in surprise when the cat suddenly jumps into his lap, making him veer off the road a bit.
”Fuck!!!” He manages to straighten out the car's path and glares at the cat. ”Seriously?”
It curls up into a ball on his legs, closes its eyes and purrs. Dean moves cautiously. He maneuvers his right hand to lay on the cat and slowly strokes it. It purrs louder and Dean can’t help but smile. Something seems to warm up a little inside him at the sight. It feels like a little weight lifted from his heart. He can help this creature, even if he isn’t able to help others.
The cat takes a quick nap on the way to the bunker and only perks its head up once they’re in the garage.
Two weeks ago, after that horrible argument with Dean, Castiel was determined to drive as far away from the bunker as possible. He drove for 3 hours before the light announcing the low level of gas started to blink and he was forced to stop at a gas n’ sip in Dodge City.
He didn't plan to go there. In fact he had no idea that the city was even on the path to where he was going. He just drove and at some point he saw a street sign that announced “Welcome to Dodge City, Kansas”.
The place brought back memories. Specifically the first hunt he went on after his resurrection. His first hunt with Jack.
It was nice to work a case with the winchesters again. Not to mention the excitement he could see sparkling in his adopted son’s eyes. It was rather amusing to see Jack so enthusiastic and going on and on about zombies.
The feeling of grief hit him hard at that moment. His heart ached for Jack and he wished he could see the boy’s smile just one more time.
He stopped himself from spiraling deeper into the pit of loss. He had to concentrate on the here and now.
He was heading west. Maybe he’d go see the ocean. The last and only time he had seen it was right after it was created. He wondered how much had changed.
Cas went up to the cash register to pay for the gas when a news article caught his attention. He normally wouldn't have even taken interest in the news except the headline on this magazine wrote in big letters:
Mysterious deaths in Dodge City, the residents stated that the deaths aren’t natural.
Castiel picked up the newspaper and gave it to the cashier to ring up. Once in his pickup, he read the article:
Dodge City has been plagued with death over the last few weeks. 11 people have died and witnesses say that these deaths were anything but natural.
”It was almost as if he was possessed. He wouldn’t react to his name, and the look in his eyes. It still sends shivers down my back.” The wife of one of the deceased said.
But that isn’t the worst of it. The people who had seen these deaths happen, were baffled by something even more disturbing.
”There was so much blood… her eyes, ears and mouth just started bleeding.” A statement from a friend of our beloved Dr. Stran.
The autopsies did not reveal any form of foul play. The causes of death are surprising. Apparently they died of heart failure. Unfortunately, authorities do not want to discuss the details of their investigation, but the public strongly believes someone poisoned the victims, using a poison that goes unnoticed in blood tests.
From interviews with some of the witnesses willing to relate their experiences with us, we have learned that the deceased behaved unnaturally before their death. They were violent, a few of them beat a bystander half to death. They were growling, had abnormal strength and their eyes were bloodshot.
If anyone notices someone behaving similarly, we ask you to call our crisis hotline.
Castiel's first instinct was to call the Winchesters, but he refused to talk to Dean. He was angry with him. Hurt. Disappointed. The last thing he wanted at that moment was to hear Dean’s voice.
As much as it hurt him to be away from Dean, it would have hurt much more to be in his presence, knowing how Dean sees him.
Castiel doesn’t want to anger Dean anymore. He doesn’t want to disappoint or let down or hurt either of the brothers anymore. So maybe Dean was right, to make him leave.
He told himself that he wouldn’t go back, if they called. But he knew he would. He can’t help himself. The Winchesters are his soft spot. He will always come when they call. No matter what. And he will always come for Dean.
He decided to take care of the case alone. After all he was still an angel, so he had a certain advantage. Besides, he would never back away from people in need if he could help them. There was undoubtedly a case there, and by the sound of it, he was positive it was a witch.
-
Not even a day passed when Castiel found himself dodging curses and spells that the witch was hurling his way. He was quite successful too. Until he wasn’t.
It was dark already. The abandoned building with boarded up windows did not allow much of the streetlights shine to flow into the room. It was hard to see under such conditions.
He hid and tried to approach her from behind. He was almost there. Gripping his angel blade tightly in his hand he launched himself at her. He aimed for her heart, but she was quicker. She swiftly avoided getting stabbed and managed to hit him with a ball of bright purple. She was so caught up in her victory, thinking that she had won, she was too occupied to notice Castiel lunging towards her and sinking his blade in her chest. She spluttered with blood flowing from her mouth and fell to the ground.
Castiel was certain that the spell was a dud, that she had not said the incantation properly. He hadn’t felt anything. His body was still intact. He decided not to worry about it and made his way to the car. Halfway there, he felt it. A cramping sensation in his gut. Then he felt as if his whole body was being squished and squeezed by a fist. His insides twisted and pain burst in his chest. He cried out in agony while his body slowly shrunk and his clothes became loose. Hair started growing on every surface of his body and he felt each one of his bones being rearranged.
It seemed like forever before the pain finally subsided and he was able to come back to his senses. But something was wrong…. Something was terribly wrong. He felt the coat he wore laying over top of him. He moved to uncover himself and his breath caught in his lungs. Instead of hands… he had paws. Black furry limbs with white fluffy paws. He flexed them. It was a very foreign feeling. His breathing accelerated and his heart started beating frantically. No, this can't be happening, it’s not real. He kept telling himself. His mind was clouded with panic.
He took a moment to calm himself down before trying to stand up and move. It was a chore just to stand on his four legs. He tried to say something but all he managed to voice aloud was a humiliating squeal.
He was thoroughly fucked. At least he managed to take out the witch. He was happy that he was able to do that before he changed. Now the town can sleep in peace and no one else will die in the same gruesome way the others did.
Once he got a hang of how to move without falling on his face or sides, he thought of the next step of action he had to take. The answer was fairly simple and obvious, but he didn’t like it.
He didn’t like it at all, and it was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it was his only option.
He had to find his way back to Lebanon. Back to the Winchesters.
Wonderful.
