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- 4x22 -
The first time Cas died, Dean had felt mostly sad for the angel that had given his life to help two human’s he’d only just met a few months ago. Maybe there had been a bit of guilt mixed into it as well.
When the angel was unexpectedly resurrected, it had been a huge surprise to everyone. Back then coming back from the dead had still been somewhat unusual, even for the Winchesters. But Lucifer had risen and then the whole trouble with the vessel-thing started and Dean never really had the time to think about it again.
- 5x22 -
The second time Cas died Dean could only stare in shock.
Granted he thought this was the end and that they were all gonna die anyways. But then they didn’t and the angel was back just minutes after Dean had seen him explode, and the hunter was shocked for a whole other reason.
However, there was a lot going on at the time, especially emotionally, so Dean kinda just pushed Cas’ repeated death to the back of his mind. Only in the quiet of the night when he was struggling to fall asleep did the scene repeat in his mind.
He saw the angel who he had learned to see as a close friend, who had given up heaven to help him, explode behind his closed eyelids and something inside his chest would shift uncomfortably.
He never tried to think about it too deeply. The thought of Cas’ death made him uncomfortable for some reason. So he pushed it aside, just as any emotion he didn’t want to deal with.
- 7x2 -
Dean punched the wall of his single motel room in anger, only to pull his hand back with a hiss as he nursed his bruised knuckles with the other hand. It reminded him of the time he had punched Cas in the green room and the angel hadn’t even flinched.
Everything reminded him of Cas these days.
It annoyed him.
It had been weeks since the Leviathans had possessed the angel and he had walked into that damn lake that Dean saw in his dreams almost every night.
Cas was dead, damn it!
So why couldn’t he file it away in a dark corner of his mind with all the other tragic events, all the other people he had lost in his life, and move on? Why did he keep waking up in the middle of the night, seeing Cas: Cold on the floor, collapsed after giving up his new powers. The evil smirk that contorted his vessel’s features as the Leviathans announced that he was dead. The image of his back as he walked into the lake until the water swallowed him.
Dean wanted to be angry with the angel. Cas had betrayed them. He had brought this upon himself and unleashed their current world threatening enemies on them. Dean had every right to be angry at him, but somehow he couldn’t.
All he could feel was grief and despair.
He was ready to forgive everything that had happened between them if Cas could just come back. One more miracle resurrection.
Dean felt his heart speed up and his breath quicken. An uncomfortable tightness spread in his chest.
He let himself fall onto the only bed in the room with a heavy sigh. He pulled Cas’ old, carefully folded trench coat from his duffle bag. It had been in there since the day that he had pulled it from the lake. Dean had no idea why he had kept it. He had even washed and ironed it, something he ever did with his own clothes.
As he held the coat that had always seemed to be a part of the angel in his hands, he was suddenly grateful that he had made Sam pay for his own room tonight as he felt tears collect in his eyes.
He tried to push them back. Dean Winchester didn’t cry. The one time the night after Cas died had been an exception.
It didn’t work.
The tears spilled over and Dean fought down a sob that threatened to escape.
Cas, you stupid bastard, he thought as the tears slipped down his cheeks and wetted the fabric of his jeans as they fell. Why did you have to do this? We could have worked together. You didn’t have to go and get yourself killed.
He tried to channel his emotions into the familiar anger. Anger he knew how to deal with. But he just couldn’t. Sudden, crushing grief covered every other feeling.
Not a single sound left the hunter’s lips, even as the wetness on his cheeks refused to go dry for what felt like hours. Eventually he gave up trying to push back the tears.
And so Dean continued to cry silently, the trench coat clenched close to his chest.
- 9x3 -
The third time Dean watched Cas die, he was human. A single stab of a blade was enough for the former angel to die a fourth time. Really it was ridiculous how often one could die in their lives. That didn’t make seeing it any easier.
Dean felt his heart race as the blade pierced the man’s skin and he let out a pained wheezing sound. Almost on autopilot the hunter fought off the woman that had turned out to be a reaper playing games with his best friend.
As soon as the threat had been eliminated, Dean was at Cas’ side. He didn’t even think to check on Sam first who was lying against the wall, groaning.
Dean’s hands hovered over his best friend’s body anxiously. Somehow he was still hoping that Cas was alive, that maybe there had been just enough angel juice left for him to survive.
Deep down Dean knew his hope was in vain.
Cas was dead.
No, no, no. He couldn’t lose him. Not again.
He grabbed Cas’ face in both hands as he desperately called out his name.
“Cas. Cas!” His voice broke on the second syllable. He wanted to cry.
“Sam, he’s gone,” he whispered.
His voice sounded wrong in his own ears.
Dean felt wrong.
How could it be that every time he watched Cas die it just hurt more? Shouldn’t there be a limit to how much pain he was able to feel from the same recurring event?
Dean didn’t know what to do. Then Sam stepped forward. Except, it wasn’t really Sam. The look in his eyes was stoic as he reached out a hand over Cas’ body – God, he was nothing but a body right now – and a glow spread over the wounds as they started to close.
And Cas took in a breath.
“Dean.”
At the sound of the gravelly voice Dean forgot about his brother. He suddenly didn’t care about how confused Sam looked over what just happened. All that mattered was that Cas was alive again.
A huge wave of relief crashed over Dean and he couldn’t help but touch Cas to make sure he was truly okay.
“Hey, I’m here,” he mumbled almost intelligibly.
It took Dean a few seconds to get himself back together in which Cas looked around in confusion and disbelief. Dean took a shuddering breath.
“Never do that again,” he snapped at Cas.
Somehow it was easier to channel his emotions into anger than deal with whatever he was really feeling right now. But he wasn’t truly angry. He was just so glad that his best friend, his angel, was alive.
- 12x23 -
Dean stared blankly at the wall. He had been staring at the wall for hours now. He was shivering slightly. His bedroom in the bunker had never felt this cold. He had been shivering for hours, but he didn’t care.
Light kept flashing behind his eyes. The light as Cas died.
Dean had seen the angel die many times in the past, more times than he liked to think about, but this had been different. It was the first time he had seen Cas die at an angel blade. It felt like the most final of deaths he’d had yet. Dean had never seen any other angel come back from this kind of death.
The moment Lucifer’s blade had pierced Cas from behind and the light of his grace dying had started to pour out of the angel, Dean’s world had crumbled. He could still feel the cry of his own anguish on the back of his tongue as his heart was ripped apart even days later.
Dean had powered through the next hours where he had to deal with that son of a bitch Lucifer’s offspring with numb stoicism. Cas had spent his last months on earth hiding away from the brothers to protect Jack. He knew that it was illogical, but Dean resented the kid for that.
Now that most of the dust had settled and they had taken care of their most immediate problems, Dean felt like he had burned through all his leftover energy. He had locked himself in his room and hadn’t left it in days. Sam had given up on trying to talk him into coming.
Dean wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been. Time had stopped making sense.
There was a bathroom connected to his room and Dean had been living off the snacks that he had stored in his room. He didn’t really feel hungry anyway.
At some point Dean lifted his hand to drag it over his tired face and realized that his cheeks were wet. He must have started crying a while ago. Or maybe he had never stopped after the first night. He didn’t remember.
He let the tears run freely, not even bothering to wipe them away.
He didn’t see a point anymore. He kinda wanted to die and follow Cas to wherever he had gone. The thought didn’t scare Dean nearly as much as it should have.
I love him, Dean realized with a start.
It was true and he felt it without a doubt.
I’m fucking in love with him and I never got to tell him.
At the revelation it felt like his heart was breaking all over again and he started to shake with silent sobs. He wanted his angel back so desperately.
It took a whole week until Dean left his room. Sam was eying him with that concerned little brother look, but by now Dean had pieced himself back together. As best as he could.
He could feel that something inside him had shifted. He was even more snappy and aggressive than usual. Sometimes he found himself staring blankly at the wall. Other times he lost his temper with his family. Sam seemed to realize that something was wrong, but to Dean’s relief he never right-out asked.
Over time he started to warm up to Jack, but he could never quite look at the kid without thinking about Cas. It hurt.
So Dean buried his feelings as deep in himself as he could and tried to return to his normal life.
When Cas returned this time, having annoyed a cosmic being into sending him back – his own words – Dean quickly felt himself return to his normal self.
He didn’t work up the guts to tell Cas about his newly discovered feelings.
- 15x18 -
Dean wished he had worked up the courage to tell Cas how he felt when he had still had the chance. Now it was too late.
Sitting in this cold and empty bunker, this death of Cas’ felt final. His goodbye had sounded final.
I love you.
The words resounded in Dean’s head over and over and he felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He wished he’d had the chance to say it back. Now he never would.
The world around him felt cold and meaningless.
His phone vibrated and the screen lit up with his brother’s name.
Dean ignored the call.
He kept sitting there until Sam found him hours later.
This time Dean didn’t cry silently. Loud sobs wracked through his body and the tears didn’t stop flowing. He hadn’t stopped crying for hours.
He was almost convinced that his sorrow must be audible in the last corner of the bunker, but ever since he had started to demolish his own room and throw things around, not even Sam had tried to approach his room anymore.
Dean preferred it like this. He wanted to be left alone. The only company he wanted was that of the angel he would never see again.
Another loud sob ripped through him and he wrapped his arms around himself.
Cas. Cas I need you. Please, come back!
He kept mentally repeating his plea, begging anyone to listen and give him back his angel. Dean didn’t realize that he had started praying at some point.
Cas, please, I can’t live without you. I love you. I fucking love you too, man. And I never got to tell you. Just come back. Please come back just one last time. Cas!
He continued to sob, his hands covering his face.
“Dean. Dean, it’s alright. I am here. Please stop crying.”
A shutter went through the man as the familiar deep voice filled his ears. Great, now he was hallucinating Cas talking to him. But Dean honestly didn’t care. He was ready to accept anything just to hear the angel’s voice again.
Suddenly a hand settled on his shoulder, making him jump. Dean’s head snapped up. Through his blurry vision he could see a figure in a familiar trench coat.
Dean drew in a sharp breath. Was this real or had he finally snapped?
As if the figure had heard his thought it answered. “I am real, Dean. Jack brought me back. I don’t know how he managed it, but I am really alive again.”
“Cas…” Dean rasped out and in one fluid motion he had pulled the angel down and wrapped him in a tight hug. His sobs turned even more violent as crushing relief filled his chest.
“Cas.”
He couldn’t stop chanting the angel’s name. When Cas tried to pull back, Dean only tightened his grip. He was scared that the moment the other pulled away the illusion would break. He knew that he wouldn’t survive that.
“Dean, I am real,” Cas mumbled and a gentle hand started to stroke through Dean’s hair. And suddenly Dean believed him.
The unbelievable had happened. He had his angel back.
“I love you, Cas. I love you too.” Suddenly Dean couldn’t wait a second longer to tell Cas.
The angel just continued to stroke his head in a comforting gesture. His hair, his face, his cheeks and his neck. “I know. I heard you,” he mumbled and another loud sob ripped out of Dean’s chest.
He didn’t know how to deal with his violent emotions so he just continued crying. Wrapped in Cas’ arms, arms that he never thought he would feel again, he felt safe to let his guard down.
“Please calm down, Dean,” Cas mumbled into the hunter’s hair. “I can not bear to see you like this.”
“Then stop dying already,” Dean shot back almost instantly. He was so surprised by his own response that his tears subsided in a series of hiccups. When he could breathe normally again, Dean finally managed to put himself into a more upright position, though he still kept his hands on Cas’ arms.
The angel was watching him with attentive and slightly sad eyes. “Is this how you have felt every time I died in the past?”
“Well, it got worse over the years, but pretty much, yeah.”
Cas gave an apologetic smile. “My apologies. I never realized quite how much my death hurts you.”
“Just don’t die again,” Dean mumbled as he whipped the remaining tears from his eyes with his sleeve.
“I will do my best.”
The answer was as sincere as the angel could have made it and Dean managed a smile. He would take it.