Waking Up (DeanCas)

Chapter 3

a/n: sorry for not updating besties i kinda forgot about this lmao anyways enjoy #girlboss

The only noise was the sound of Cas's breathing against Dean's back. Dean was wide awake. He wasn't sure if Cas was. Its grip was wrapped tight around him, so it made it almost impossible for him to leave. This might've been intentional. He wasn't sure.

"Cas?"

No response. Just the rhythmic rise and fall of Cas's chest.

Dean tried again, a little louder this time. "Cas."

Still no response.

Dean waited a few seconds longer to be sure, then, when still no sound came from Castiel, he slowly pryed its arms out of the way and slid out of the bed as quietly as possible. He stood still by the bed for a moment longer, just in case, then crept out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

This is it. This could be my only chance to get out of here. He crept up towards the knife drawer, pulling out the sharpest one he could find and pointing it towards his chest. He wasn't sure why he was scared. He had been through this before, and it's not like he really dies. Dean took a deep breath and-

"Dean?"

Crap. Dean turned his head around, the knife still conceled from Cas's view. "Oh. Um, hey-"

"Dean, what are you doing by the knife drawer?" Cas's voice was made even deeper by its tiredness.

Dean gulped and discreetly put away the sharp knife. "I was just- I was hungry. I was thinking of making like a- I don't know, a sandwich or something." He shut the knife drawer and turned around fully, his hands resting on the countertop.

Cas stared at Dean, furrowing its eyebrows and tilting its head, the way the real Cas always did when he was confused or trying to figure something out. "Okay," Cas said, sounding skeptical. "What kind of sandwich?"

Dean quickly said the first sandwich type he could think of. "Peanut butter and jelly."

Cas smiled. "That's my favorite kind." It yawned then walked over to the fridge to grab ingredients. "I think I'll make myself one, too."

Dean smiled, remembering how much Cas liked peanut butter and jelly when he was human. He took a breath. "Hey, you-" Cas looked up at Dean. "Um... You know what, nevermind."

Cas smiled and turned back around. "Dean, since you're over by the knife drawer, could you get me a butter knife?" Cas called.

"Yeah, no problem," Dean called back. He opened the knife drawer, staring at the knife he had picked up earlier. He wondered if he could do it now or if Cas would stop him. He didn't want to take the chance; being sent to a mental hospital is gonna make it even less likely to leave.

"Dean?"

Dean jolted out of his thoughts. "Yeah, um, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking," Dean replied frantically, pulling a butter knife out of the drawer and handing it to Cas.

"About what?"

"Hm?"

"About what? What were you thinking about?" Cas repeated, spreading peanut butter smoothly onto the piece of bread laying on the counter.

"Oh, um-" Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh."

Dean swayed back and forth on his feet. The awkward silence was broken only by the occasional passing car. "Hey, what, um- what time is it?"

"Oh it's-" Cas rolled up the sleeve on its bumblebee onesie to reveal his watch still on his wrist. "Almost 3:00."

"Ah." He didn't really care what time it was. He just thought maybe if he knew what time it was here he'd know what time it was outside of his mind.

"Well, since you can't sleep, do you want to watch a movie? Or go out on a walk? After we eat, of course."

Dean gulped, his eyes staying on Cas's hand, the one holding the knife. "I- maybe I'll just go on a walk. By myself."

Cas frowned, still focused on the sandwich it was making; this was the second. "By yourself? Babe, it's 3 in the morning. I'm not letting you go out there by yourself."

Dean felt his heart skip a beat when Cas called him "babe". He wanted to cry. Or scream. Something. "I'll bring a knife."

"No. Absolutely not. I'm coming with you. Here's your sandwich, Dean." Cas set the sandwich on a plate, then put it on the table, gesturing for Dean to sit down and eat.

Dean fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He was hungry; starving, in fact, but he really didn't want to eat. He wanted to get the hell out of there, back to real Sam and real Cas, maybe have a few laughs about the whole thing. "Thanks," Dean choked out before sitting down at the table. Cas placed a glass of milk next to him. "Milk?"

"Yes. It'll help wash it down," Cas responded, sitting down next to Dean with its sandwich. Dean stared at his food. Minutes went by and he hadn't touched it. Cas must have noticed this, because the next thing he knew, he could feel its hands cupped around his face. "Dean?" Cas whispered. "Dean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." But he wasn't. The feeling of Cas's hands cupped around Dean's face made him want to cry. He wondered if the real Cas, his Cas, would do this.

"Dean, hey-" Dean hadn't even realized he was crying until Cas's hand had moved to wipe the tears from his face. It leaned in, kissing him softly. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, but Cas seperated quickly. "What's wrong?"

Everything. Everything was wrong. The way he was feeling was wrong. The fact that he was still here was wrong. Everything he had been taught as a kid, everything he had told himself ever since he met Cas, all the 'This is how people normally feel about their friends' and the 'I'll find the right woman and get over it eventually' was crumbling down in Dean's mind. He wanted to kick himself for thinking what he was thinking. He could hear John's voice ringing in his head, calling him slurs and curses, telling him he'd never live up to anyone.

All that and more was wrong, but it was such a scrambled mess that the seperation between what was good and bad in his head was all a big blur, and Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss Cas, the real Cas, not the fake in front of him.

"Dean?"

The sound of Cas's voice made everything in his head go quiet, and suddenly he was back in his make-believe kitchen with his make-believe Cas and his make-believe sandwich.

"I'm not supposed to be here," was all Dean could mutter out before breaking into sobs. He rested his head on Cas's shoulder and all he could think about was if the real Cas missed him, or if he was even alive.

Dean could hear the confusion in this Cas's voice. He wondered how long it would take before its whole facade finally broke. "Dean, wh- what do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Dean said angrily, lifting his head up to meet Cas's eyes and trying to silence the sobs in his throat. "Hell, you're not even Cas- not really."

Cas furrowed its eyebrows. "Dean, this is ridiculous. You're obviously tired, let's go to bed and we can talk about this in the morning, okay?"

"No!" Dean yelled, louder than intended. "Can you stop with the bullshit, already? We both know this isn't real, so just-"

Dean was cut off by a kiss planted on his lips. This one was longer, more passionate than the other one, and he wanted so badly for it to be real. "And we both know how much you want it to be real-" Cas took Dean's hand, smiling warmly. "How much you know it could never really happen? Just come to bed, okay?"

Dean swallowed, and, as much as he didn't want to, separated his hand from Cas's, moving towards the knife drawer and grabbing the same knife he had almost killed himself with earlier, pointing it towards his chest. "Nice while it lasted, huh?" Dean said, his voice still shaky from crying.

"Dean, no, wait-!"

"So long, assbutt."

Dean thrusted the knife into his chest, letting out a loud, pained scream before collapsing on the ground-