Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

These are the things Castiel knows about John Winchester:

He is a strange, dangerous man. For years, he was obsessed with finding his wife's killer, so he studied urban legends and the occult, used fake badges to frequent crime scenes and gather evidence. According to Dean, he was a hero, protecting people, going as far as maybe even killing the ones he saw as threats.

According to Castiel , he was far from a perfect father. The... dubious activities aside - and Castiel's trying very, very hard not to think much about them - he dragged Dean and his brother all over the country. It was bad enough that Sam left at some point, preferring to stay with his aunt and uncle, to go to school.

But Dean stayed. Stayed with his father, assisting him in deciphering bizarre symbols and looking for crimes. He learned to shoot guns, to throw knives, to defend himself, to drive dangerously, most of it before he even turned fifteen.

For Dean's fourteenth birthday, John Winchester gave him a hunting knife. It meant so much that Dean had kept it for years and had it on him when he was captured. The man, allegedly, did everything to keep Dean safe - looked out for him and taught him to look out for himself, purchased beta and alpha pills to keep up appearances, to stop the system from finding Dean and forcing him to marry. The picture Dean painted was always one of shelter, of trust, of loyalty.

Castiel often thinks that all of it was one-sided. Dean was clearly the child John could rely on, and it was always obvious how badly Dean wanted to impress his father. How his own needs, as an omega, were never nurtured. And yet, Castiel can't deny that there was love there, too.

He just doesn't know how much of it came with conditions.

The morning when everything comes crashing down, he wakes up alone. The spot where Dean laid is still warm, and it's unlike the omega to leave the room before him. Dean likes to lounge in bed and he likes to cuddle, Castiel thinks, smiling into the pillow. Even more so now, barely a week since his heat was over.

Stretching lazily, not really worried, Castiel sits up on the bed. He rubs his eyes and thinks about the day to come, but then, he hears movement outside the bedroom. Frowning, he gets up and stumbles there, half-awake, to find Dean in the corridor, staring at the opposite wall, silent, a phone to his ear. He can hear Sam on the other end, asking, dean, dean, are you there, what do i do , and Dean turns to Castiel and says numbly, tonelessly, "Dad's getting out today".

For a few seconds, Castiel just blinks at him mutely. Dean doesn't say anything else. It's too much for him to process, probably, this slight change of plans, because it is slight, just a few days of a push back. With cases like John's, a couple of days back or forth might happen, something about the paperwork that Sam's warned them about, but it sounds like the man himself isn't prepared for it.

Castiel snaps out of it and takes the phone from Dean's unresisting hand.

'Sam?' he asks. 'What's happening?'

He hears a swallow, and harsh breaths, like Sam's trying very hard to calm himself down.

'Dad's getting out of jail today, instead of next week,' Dean's brother says.

'That's fine,' Castiel replies, and it does feel fine, to him. They were supposed to prepare a bit of a - game plan, Dean called it, to hash out the details of how exactly Sam was going to tell John that his omega son is right there to see him. That, and... that no one wants to fight Castiel about the ownership. But the bare bones of it stay the same, and Castiel doesn't know why the news affects both brothers so much. Well, Dean, he can guess - the omega hasn't seen his father in twenty years, and he's terrified of the impression he'll make. He wants to be wanted so badly, it's painful to see.

If John Winchester rejects Dean, Castiel fears he won't be able to fix that, even with all the love he'll pour into Dean in return.

'I- I just-' Sam stutters in the meantime, and for the first time, Castiel wonders if Sam is perhaps afraid of his father. 'Uh. I'll - are you coming, too?'

'Of course,' Castiel affirms immediately, and then adds, in a voice he often uses with Dean: 'Sam, it will be alright. Dean and John need to finally see each other, and then, we'll figure out the rest.'

'Will we?' Sam chuckles, thinly, and Castiel can hear him wipe his nose. The idea of Dean's menacing rock of a brother being so moved that he's crying is kind of ridiculous. 'Sorry I'm like - ugh. You don't need to hear this.'

'Of course I do,' Castiel protests, ruffled. 'We're in this together. Can you tell me what's making you so anxious?'

Maybe there's something Castiel's never considered, some angle he missed. He feels pathetically helpless when it comes to this particular situation. He doesn't know John Winchester, can't predict the way he'll act, can't protect Dean from him before the damage will be already done.

'It's nothing,' Sam replies, as expected, though his voice is strained. It hits Castiel, all of a sudden, that unlike Dean, Sam has absolutely no one to confide in in moments like these. Castiel's sure Dean would like to be that person for him, but he's not quite there yet. Still too much distance between the brothers, and too much fragility in Dean. Castiel doesn't want to tell him, because he knows he beats himself up over it. Needing to be protected, instead of the protector.

So Castiel tries to be there for Sam, the way Dean would like to be.

'It does not sound like it's nothing.'

He leaves it at that, an invitation, but Sam doesn't take it. He just clears his throat.

'See you there?' he asks, instead.

'We're leaving already,' Castiel assures, looking over at Dean, who's still staring ahead, almost like he's catatonic. 'Wait for us.'

When he hangs up, he reaches out to touch Dean. The omega doesn't flinch. He just faces Castiel with a blank expression.

'What is it, sweetheart?' Castiel whispers, brushing a hand through Dean's hair. 'We knew this day would come.'

'Yeah, but...' Dean whispers back, and then trails off. 'Not now. Not... I had plans.'

'I know,' Castiel nods, attempting a smile. 'But this is your dad, Dean. You wanted to see him for years, didn't you? Aren't you looking forward to this?'

He knows his attempts at improving the situation are failing, because the omega's face is still pale, his eyes still wide.

'I just got a bad feeling, s'all,' he murmurs, and turns away.

'And I have a good one,' Castiel tries, tries all the same, and grabs Dean's hand. 'I'll be there with you the entire time.'

'Yeah,' Dean glances back and finally, finally, sends him a flicker of a smile. Unfortunately, it doesn't lessen the anxiety lodged in Castiel's chest. 'That's what worries me.'

These are the things Dean knows about his dad:

He's a hero. He spent his entire life doing his best to help people, even when his own problems were eating him up from the inside, even though it was such a dark, lonely life. Dean never saw him break down, never saw him give up.

He cried when he found out Dean was an omega though.

Back then, it was confusing to witness; now, Dean sees it clearly as a moment when dad realized their life would never be the same. From then on, Dean's designation was something they never acknowledged, and something that simultaneously influenced everything they did. An elephant in the room they didn't talk about, but fed and kept alive every single day. Dad would hand him beta pills and Dean would take them; other days, dad would swallow alpha ones with his breakfast coffee. Whenever Dean's omega status would come in handy - for flirting, hustling pool, going to cooking school - he simply stayed off the pills. Dad raised him the way he was planning to raise him from the start; to be tough, manly, to not take shit from anyone. Dean could still fix cars and shoot guns and go on joyrides, he could blast rock music and wear dad's leather jacket and pick fights. Even though John worried and warned him to watch out, Dean could clock the unspoken sentiment in dad's eyes whenever he came back home with bloody knuckles and a wild grin.

Pride.

So, nothing changed, except everything did. The things he did before because he liked them - they turned into statements. A murmured praise, some amusement in his dad's eyes, a pat on the back; pride and relief . His oldest was growing up, not as a fragile pushover, not weak. Not an omega.

Dean doesn't think he'd change anything, if he could turn back time. He liked being treated seriously. He liked being trusted and relied on.

That's what he was as long as he followed dad's orders, at least. Dad's orders kept them safe, they had a goal, they were a team, away from alphas and their fucked up world.

Until, of course, Dean followed every order and still got caught. Until he waited years for his hero to save him from Alastair's hell, and no one did. Until he met a man, an alpha, and - fell in love like a stereotypical omega. Became exactly everything dad never wanted him to be.

Dean swallows, hands flexing, curling into fists.

The prison is huge. Gray imposing blocks of concrete, barbed wire stretched all around, large empty spaces between the buildings, perfect for spotting possible trespassers. When they first drove up to it, it reminded him of the punishment center in Kentucky, the worst of the worst Alastair's taken him to. It's like they needed to tell the world, this place is soulless and there's no getting out.

When Cas pulled up to the parking lot, Dean had to turn around in his seat, press his face into the headrest. He couldn't bear to look at the prison slash center.

'What is, Dean?' Castiel asked, patient as ever, sweet as ever. His hands on Dean like support, like strength -

- not like a demand. Dean squeezes his eyes closed. 'What's going on?'

'Don't like this place,' Dean admitted, between hitching breaths that were coming out too fast. He could feel Cas turn back, to stare at it, and then the alpha nodded.

'I'll lead you, and you can look at the ground,' he said, and they did that, humiliating as it was. Dean glowered at the cracks in the sidewalk, counted them, when Cas asked him to, still soaking up the praise when his mate announced the number was correct, as if he had any fucking idea how many cracks were in the old pavement. He could look at a building like a normal person, he could walk with his head straight, while Dean checked off kindergarden tasks and shivered in fear.

It was better inside. Still concrete and huge, but nothing like the center. Mostly, no one even cared to look at Dean. Cas got searched thoroughly, Dean just went through the metal detectors. Which didn't make sense to him, but whatever. For once, he was happy to not be seen as anyone with an agenda. No one even addressed him. Cas held his hand as they walked down the corridor, past the meeting room where some of the inmates talked to their friends and family, chained to tables. Is this how dad spent the last twenty years of his life? Dean wonders bitterly. In this one, bleak building, meeting his contacts by the plastic tables, plotting how to get Dean out? Seeing his other son during staged lawyer-prisoner meetings, always surveilled?

They finally make it to the last corridor, up some steps, and wait for the door to unlock. The sound of the metal gate opening is deafening, some sort of alarm, and Cas is leading him forward with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. There, behind another closed door, is his father, getting discharged.

Sam is already inside. Already talking to John. Dean heard his shaky words on the phone in the morning, today, he's getting out today, dean, i don't know what to do-

His brother never really freaked out, since they reunited. He's terrifyingly calm, most days, and Dean can't tell what he thinks, unless Sam consciously allows Dean to see it.

But right then, he was panicking. Like back when they were kids and he spilled soda on dad's work documents, or like when he stole a textbook and got caught, or like when dad found out he was trying out for some stupid maths program at school that would've relocated him. Dean's been a silent witness of dad consistently stealing Sam's childhood, and then he went and stole the rest of Sam's life himself. He wonders what Sam was afraid of, exactly. Dad's anger? Dad's disappointment? He never cared before. Maybe it's more that Sam took over his role of the family glue, the link between Dean, the absent martyr, and his father, the vengeful criminal. Some family they make, Dean thinks unhappily, grimacing. There are tears in his eyes, he thinks. He still can't smell dad through the metal doors.

When he gets out, they'll go to Sam's, he thinks. Sam rented an apartment nearby where he kept a room for dad, and a room for Dean, for after he'd help both get out of their respective prisons. So it may be that Sam, the one who got away, really is, perversely, the only person who's trying to keep their little unit together. And he's scared to see it all fall apart.

And Dean failed to be the big brother he once was, again. Never there for Sam, the burnt out, useless husk of a man he's become, something soft and shapeless, groomed by Cas to be passive and pampered and...

Weak. Standing in the corridor with the phone cause god forbid he wakes his alpha, stiff and mute and just breathing, unable to console Sam, to tell him they were gonna make it, to tell him he could do it instead of him, face dad and his wrath and ask for absolution for them both, the way he's always done.

Instead, he didn't say a single thing. He hopes he will now, when dad gets out. He hopes he'll be able to stand with his back straight, look him in the eye. He hopes he'll be able to say-

The door creaks, and Dean's head snaps up. He hears raised voices, some sort of a scuffle, Sam says:

'Wait, dad-'

'I want to see him!' someone roars, and, struck, Dean recognizes it, something so familiar that it hits him in the stomach like a well-aimed punch. He gasps.

The door finally, finally opens all the way, and a man stumbles through it, turns to face Dean, and -stops.

Freezes.

He looks like dad and he doesn't. Still the same man, but layered with years and years of weariness and sorrow. Older than Dean expected, harder, too. Thinner than he ever remembers seeing him, wiry and full of muscles both, hair short-shaved and almost entirely grey.

Dean exhales.

'Dean,' dad chokes out, and his face crumples, like he's devastated. Like he can't believe what he's seeing.

Dean expected to feel so many conflicting emotions when he'll see dad; fear, happiness, dread, shame. But he doesn't feel anything. Right now, there's only the distance between them, as if it's the years that they missed, still separating them, hanging in the air between them. A fact, more than a feeling. Time.

'H-' Dean tries, but his mouth is too dry. He swallows, and his throat clicks. 'Hi, dad.'

The spell is broken, and John sobs, and closes the space between them so fast that Dean can't even register it. Fifteen steps and suddenly his dad, his dad , is crashing into him, somehow managing to wrap his entire body around Dean, so that he feels like a little kid again.

The scent is hard to take. It's so much like home, Dean coughs from it, tears run down his cheeks.

'My boy,' John is saying, holding the back of his head, crying into his shoulder. 'My boy .'

Dean feels overwhelmed by it; dad is still taller than him, towering over him, when he pulls back to stare at Dean, holds his face between his hands, drinks him in.

'You're here,' John cries, and Dean's never, never seen his dad like this, so broken, so mournful. 'You're here, god, kiddo, you're-'

'I missed you,' Dean says, cause it feels safe to say it.

'Fuck I missed you too,' John sobs. 'I missed you like hell, I'm sorry, kid, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'

Dean just lets his head fall forward and rest on dad's shoulder. Strong hands come up to embrace him even tighter.

Castiel's watching the scene and finds that he's smiling. He's never seen Dean like this; small, but not out of fear. More than that, John -  looking like despite being a beta he could snap Castiel in two - melts around his son. Castiel expected something much harsher right off the bat, anger, sadness, but not this - this loving reunion. It's making him feel quite optimistic about the whole situation.

He looks over at Sam. Dean's brother has his eyes glued to the pair, clearly moved too, eyes shining with unshed tears. He looks immediately younger, as well. Suddenly, Castiel can see them all as a family, years ago, can see the resemblance between the three of them. Earlier, when he met Sam, he couldn't really match the stories he'd heard from Dean with the man in front of him. The bond was still there, but buried deep, and he couldn't envision young Sam as the boy from Dean's memories. Now, seeing all the Winchesters together, it really registers that those are the people Dean's spent his life with, grew up with. That probably know him better than Castiel himself.

He gets a pang of unease at the realization. He chokes it down. This isn't about him.

'Alright, let's move,' someone says, stopping Castiel's train of thought. Dean blinks and looks around; it's a guard, gesturing at them with a baton. Castiel already knows the omega's going to react before he does, backing away from his dad, body rigid. Reliving what happened to him at the punishment centers, most likely.

John stares after his son, dumbfounded, but Dean's already away, back to the wall, one hand up to protect his face. His chest is heaving but his eyes flick around, like he's trying to wrench himself out of it, like he's torn. That's good, Castiel thinks. He's not entirely gone.

'Dean,' he says, gently, stepping in and ignoring Dean's flinch. He does it quickly, because he knows how much Dean will hate himself for it later on. They need to manage this. 'It's okay. You're fine. Let's go.'

'Cas,' Dean pants, breath rattling in his throat. 'I-'

'It's okay. Lean on me,' Castiel tells him, and wraps an arm around him. He's aware of John Winchester's eyes on him, waits for the beta to protest in some way, but he doesn't. He just follows silently when Castiel leads Dean out of the prison, through corridors upon corridors, a labyrinth of walls and harsh artificial light. John stalls them, later on, when they change him out of the scrubs, when he gets his possessions back, and he and Sam need to sign some more papers. Dean's not handling it well, and even to Castiel, the scenario resembles what he saw when he came to marry Dean; the reception desk, the change of clothes. Dean keeps eyeing the batons and metal doors with wide, unfocused eyes, so Castiel tries to take him outside. The omega twists in his hold to glance at his father, panicked.

'Dad-' he calls out, and then cuts himself off, and Castiel can smell he's embarrassed. He mutters, quieter, 'Hold on, Cas-'

'We'll wait for him out there,' he promises, hoping to soothe, but he does stop. Dean's like a live wire in his hands, high-strung and emotional. John's staring at them, something hard in his eyes that wasn't there before. Sam leans in to whisper to him, and the man steels his jaw and nods.

'I'll be right there, Deano,' he says.

'Okay,' Dean nods, sounding so small , and finally goes.

When they make it out, Dean puts a hand over his eyes and exhales. He doesn't say anything for a long while, and so Castiel just waits. Gives him time. He paces around, looking at the prison, imagining John Winchester escaping this place - thrice. It seems impossible.

'C'mere,' Dean requests, eventually, holding out his hand, and when Castiel obediently laces their fingers together, he hides his face in Castiel's arm. For a moment, he just stays like this.

'He saw me,' he speaks up after some time, Castiel's hand in his. So much goes unsaid, but they both know what Dean really means. That his father saw him scared. As if, after twenty years of abuse, that was anything to be ashamed of.

'He was happy to see you,' Castiel counters softly.

Dean huffs, annoyed, lifts his head.

'You know what I-'

'He was happy to see you, Dean ,' Castiel cuts him off sternly, hoping to get it across to his mate. Dean doesn't reply. Castiel can smell him, a cocktail of conflicted emotions. He wishes he could make this easier.

'I didn't think I'd ever see him again,' Dean shares, apparently wanting to continue, but then, the doors open and John and Sam walk out. Free, this time, without any guards. Castiel sees Dean reflexively straighten his back and move away from him when he spots his father, and he thinks, this is going to be harder than i thought.

Sam waves at them to keep going, and they leave the front gate of the prison. In the parking lot, there's their Toyota, right next to Sam's expensive car. Castiel wonders how they're going to ride; perhaps Dean would like to be in Sam's car with his father? He turns to propose that, and maybe also finally introduce himself - the moment was certainly too charged for him to butt his head in, Dean and John were seeing each other for the first time in forever - but as soon as he opens his mouth, he's brutally punched in the face.

The impact of it shocks him, but before he can recover, there's another punch, and a sick crunch coming from his nose. Something's leaking on his face, and he puts his hands up to wipe it, tries to open his eyes, but he gets punched again and falls to the ground, ears ringing. Rough hands lift him up and Castiel hears, though muffled, John Winchester's voice.

'Don't you ever ,' he growls, his breath sour, scent violent. 'Put your hands on my son again.'

 Castiel kicks out, more out of reflex than anything else, and hears John grunt. The man may be a beta, but he's much, much stronger than Castiel, and he's driven by rage that doesn't match Castiel's, who doesn't really want to hurt Dean's father.

There's hands on his neck, suddenly, squeezing, and he grabs at John'arms, trying to draw a breath and failing, panicked. It's all happening too fast, it's happening too fast, it's-

The hands leave his neck and he gasps for air, painfully. He wheezes and coughs, and turns to the side, curling up on the warm asphalt. There's shouting nearby, people fighting, but it all seems hazy and far away. He closes his eyes, and the next time he opens them, Dean's patting his cheek, smelling like he's on the verge of hysteria.

'Cas, Cas,' he keeps saying, eyes wide like saucers, face pale. 'Please, please wake up, please-'

'Dn,' Castiel rasps, and it comes out unintelligible, but Dean sags in relief and grabs his hand.

'Fuck, you're messed up, man,' the omega says, and wipes Castiel's face. Castiel winces and tries to move, but Dean holds him in place. 'No, no, don't move. Fuck, he, he, he really messed you up, I, I-'

'Dean-'

'Yeah?' the omega leans closer, anxiously. Castiel sees now that he's holding a bunch of tissues, all stained red. Oh yes, Dean was wiping his face. He thinks his nose is bleeding. He thinks his nose is broken.

'Are you - okay?' he manages, though it hurts to speak.

Dean's face screws up, like he's going to cry, and then he laughs a little.

'Yeah, dumbass,' he replies, voice as shaky as his expression. 'You're the one bleeding.'

'You're in-' Castiel swallows. 'Major emotional distress-'

'How is he?' someone else asks. Castiel blinks up. Sam. When he turns his head a little, he sees John Winchester, giant and brooding, a dark figure sitting in the open door of Sam's car, staring at his knuckles. He looks... defeated, in some way. Castiel frowns.

'Not good,' Dean says in the meantime, and Castiel can hear that he's hanging on by a thread. They should take Dean home, give him some time to breathe. 'I don't know, Sam, I think he's got a concussion. Cas, Cas, look at me.'

Castiel does, and Sam puts his phone up. He shines the flashlight right into Castiel's eyes and both he and Dean stare at him intently. Castiel pushes Sam's phone away, irritated.

'I do not have a concussion,' he insists.

'He doesn't,' Sam confirms, pocketing his phone. 'Come on, Cas, you think you can stand up?'

It startles Castiel badly, the fact that Sam calls him that, and also that he smells a bit concerned. Why would he care what happens to Castiel? Perhaps he's just nervous this is going to hurt Dean.

Dean holds him up, teeth gnawing at his lower lip, hands shaking. Castiel casts another look at John.

'What did I do wrong?' he asks, quietly, and Sam just shakes his head and looks away.

'Nothin',' Dean replies, stern. 'You did nothin' wrong. Sam told dad that you were my - my alpha and-'

'And he didn't like that,' Castiel nods. He expected that. Not so much the punches to the face and the strangling, but... it's not like the man was trying to kill him. He thinks.

'Are we going or what?' John calls out, voice dripping with bitterness and fury. 'You done fussing over the son of a bitch?'

Castiel sees Dean purse his lips.

'You go,' he says to Sam. 'I'll drive Cas home, and then I'll - I'll come over.'

'You sure?' Sam asks, and 'Dean, no,' Castiel protests, at the same time.

'You can't be near him now,' Dean tells Castiel matter-of-factly. 'And I - I gotta get you home.'

'You've waited years for this, Dean,' Castiel counters. 'I'll go home myself.'

Dean just shakes his head.

'You look bad , Cas,' he says, and his voice breaks. Castiel lifts up a hand to hug him, and then thinks better of it.

'We'll be there,' Sam tells them. 'You need anything, call. I'll try to manage dad.'

Dean looks like he wants to say something to his brother, and Sam looks like he wants to hear it. He lingers, enough for the silence to become uncomfortable, and then deafening. Dean drops his eyes to the ground.

'We're going,' Sam announces, and John glares daggers at him. At Castiel.

'Without Dean, you mean?' he spits, and then gets up. Sam puts a hand on his chest. 'Get out of my way, boy.'

'No,' Sam pushes him away. 'You need to calm the fuck down.'

'You think you can just take him away, huh?' John hollers at Castiel. 'Think you can show off that you own my fucking son ?'

Dean flinches. This time, Sam really has to push John away. It seems that the beta has no handle on his anger, not so soon. Castiel doesn't really know, now, why he hoped this would be civil.

'I am not taking him away,' he replies, trying to sound level, despite the ring of bruises already forming around his throat. 'He'll join you shortly-'

'Yeah I'm sure,' John seethes, slapping Sam's hand away and taking a few steps towards them. 'After you correct him, right?'

'Dad,' Dean says, but it's so quiet, Castiel barely hears.

'You'll so kindly allow him to come see his father-'

'Dad!' Dean tries, louder. John stops and stares at him, like he forgot he was there. 'I wanna go with Cas.'

If Castiel hated John, he would've been glad to see the look on his face; disbelief, anguish, understanding. Instead, he just feels sad for the man, who must be thinking that he's losing his son all over again. John reminds him of Dean, when he's snapped out of his fear, when he wakes up or shakes it off and for a moment, there's just an emptiness and devastation as he comes to his senses. Castiel's starting to realize that all the Winchester men are completely broken in their own ways.

'Dean'll come see you in the evening,' Castiel promises softly, out of nowhere, and John's gaze is completely void of aggression this time, when he glances at him. He's surprised by what Castiel offered.

Before he can reply, though, Dean takes Cas's hand and leads him to their car. He doesn't look back at his father when he gets in, and he doesn't look back as he starts the engine and drives away. It's two hours away, their house, so he stops at a gas station first, completely silent, and disappears in the shop. He comes back with some bandages and medicine.

'We don't need to do this now,' Castiel protests, grabbing Dean's hands. The omega's face is empty, and so are his eyes; it's a mask he puts up very, very carefully, a mask Castiel already knows. 'Dean. It's okay. We can just talk for a moment.'

Dean drops the bandages in his lap. He's chosen to wear a long-sleeved shirt today, and jeans. Castiel knows, because he watched the omega put on a T-shirt first and check if his scars are showing. He stood in front of the mirror, tracing them lightly with his fingers, and then changed into the other shirt, covering everything up. He wanted John to see him how he was, without the damage. He wanted John to love him.

'Your father-'

'Don't,' Dean snaps, not looking at him. 'He almost killed you, Cas.'

'He wouldn't have,' Castiel shakes his head. 'He just got out of jail. He's not looking to go back. He was just - frustrated, that I have your legal ownership. Which I understand. I shouldn't have come-'

'No you don't understand!' Dean yells, throwing the bandage package at the windshield. It makes a sad little thump. 'I just saw my dad and he almost fucking killed you! Sam told him who you were to me and he still couldn't - he couldn't - and it's not just him! Sam, and you, and everyone, everyone fucking thinks they know what I want! '

Dean covers his face and screams into his fists in frustration. And then starts crying.

Castiel waits until the rage and fear leave his body, make him sink down in the seat a little, and only then hugs him. Quietly. Dean grabs at his shirt, cups his head.

'You're hurt,' he cries. 'You look so bad .'

'Do you think you'll still date me?' Castiel asks, faking concern the way he learned from Dean. 'I'm a little worried about that.'

'Shut up,' Dean shakes his head, smearing tears all over Castiel's shirt. 'Cas.'

'I think I'm bleeding on you-' Castiel pinches his nose and backs off. Dean provides more tissues, and looks on, gravely, as Castiel dries his nose.

'I'll set it for you,' Dean offers. Castiel blinks.

'Maybe I should just see a doctor.'

'Oh,' Dean blinks back at him, like that hasn't occurred to him. 'Yeah, right. Uh. I forgot. That was a thing.'

Castiel casts a look at him. Dean needs something to focus on, now. He needs to help and feel useful. Usually he tries to engage Dean in cooking or watching TV, but his face really hurts, and he doesn't even want to think about a trip to the ER, the long wait in line...

'Can you do it well?'

Dean glances up at him.

'Yeah,' he shrugs. 'Did it on myself a lot.'

Castiel swallows down the unease. He figured that out.

'Okay, then,' he agrees. 'Just please go easy on me. I'm not as brave as you are.'

Dean rolls his eyes. Castiel hoped for a hint of a smile, but there wasn't any. He doesn't let it deter him.

Dean pushes back his sleeves, and looks Castiel over critically.

'Okay, brace yourself. It's gonna hurt a little, alpha,' he says.

'Yes, I suspect so,' Castiel sighs. 'It hurts a lot now as well.'

Dean grimaces, and his scent crashes back to guilt.

'Just - hold my shoulders,' he asks, and Castiel does. The omega places his fingers on both sides of Castiel's rapidly swelling nose. 'I'm gonna go on three. One -'

He sets it professionally, with just one confident move, but there's still a disgusting wet sound. Castiel screams in pain before he can stop himself.

'Sorry,' Dean's saying quickly. 'Sorry, sorry. It's done. Sorry, alpha.'

'That hurt more than a little,' Castiel complains, unclamping his hands from Dean's shoulders and putting a trembling hand to his nose. It's like there's a burning hole in the middle of his face.

'M'sorry,' Dean repeats, and when Castiel glances back at him, his eyes are wide.

'No, no,' he shakes his head. 'It's fine. It's great. Thank you. You did it very well, I think.'

'Yeah,' Dean nods, though still - scared. Just a tiny bit, but it's there. Castiel frowns. It's unlike Dean to be scared of him.

'It really is fine,' Castiel says, grabbing his hand. Dean busies himself with picking the right bandages.

'You got a cut on your-' Dean gestures to his cheek, clearly avoiding conversation. His eyes are puffy, face red. He looks like a wreck. And to think Castiel hoped that it would be a mostly happy reunion.

'Dean,' he stops the omega. 'Listen to me. It is fine. We're here, and we're alright.'

Dean just shrugs, mouth twisting again. Unhappy. Scared.

'Can you take care of me?' Castiel asks, soft. This often makes things better. Letting Dean take the lead. Asking for help.

And his face and neck really do hurt horribly.

'Sure,' Dean nods, and finally applies the bandage. He puts it on so lightly, Castiel barely feels any sting. 'We have to wash those when we get home. And I got you some painkillers. You can get some ice chips for your throat and-'

'And we have to talk about why you think I know what you want,' Castiel cuts in, still gentle. This time, Dean doesn't huff nor roll his eyes. He just sits there for a moment, staring at the bottles he bought.

'Maybe later,' he says, eventually, and that intrigues Castiel. It's not a no. He doesn't wave it off, and he's willing to talk and fix it. This is big growth, on Dean's part. Happy, Castiel smiles at him and squeezes his hand in reassurance.

'Alright. Later then.'

The rest of the drive is much more relaxed. At some point, Castiel takes the pills and falls asleep, his head on Dean's shoulder.