Start Of Time

chapter 6

January 25th. Dean wakes up with a pounding head full of regrets. Last night was anything but what he was expecting, especially the incident with Castiel. He doesn’t know where he found the courage and the strength to do what he did, but it was stupid and selfish and now every fiber in his body writhes with disgust. How could he be so shameful? How could he do the one thing he promised his father never to do again? How could he be so weak? To just give into his feelings and temptations like that? He hates himself for it but part of him knows that it was always bound to happen again, that no matter how long he tries to suppress his needs and wants— whether five months or twenty years— his true, shameful feelings would always eventually catch up to him, and now it has ruined whatever form of friendship he was building with Castiel.

He gets out of bed and his head spins as he does so. He stops and gives himself a moment to find his composure before he proceeds and walks off to his bathroom to hopefully scrub off the disgrace like dirt.

When he finally makes it out of the shower, he feels slightly better, the headaches have subsided, and his body doesn’t ache as much as it did earlier, but the shame and the hate is still there. He shoves them down, as far as he possibly can, and proceeds.

He ends up in kitchen and ignores the mess they had made last night to make himself a cup of strong black coffee, he needs it and given that its only 7am, he’s going to need more than a cup to get him back to his old self.

He shuffles his feet all the way to the couch facing the fireplace and plops himself down, feeling the weight of his half-assed actions pulling him down.

‘God. This is gonna be a long day’

The bell goes off and breaks his train of thought. His heart races and it beats so loud that he’s certain the person on the other end of the door could hear it too. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t even attempt to as the bell goes off again. There’s no way in hell that he’s standing up to face Castiel, he can’t muster up enough strength to.

“Dean, it’s Cas. Open the door please.” the man pleads from behind the door, his disembodied voice sounding desperate and distraught. Dean shuts his eyes and tries to ignore the pain coursing through him, he tries to ignore it and forget it all but, god, he can’t do it and it feels as though there’s an invisible force pulling him to Castiel, wanting him to be as close to him as possible.

His guts tie up into a billion knots as his feet finds life of its own, subconsciously carrying him to the door. His steps are slow and tentative, but they still carry him forward. He latches a hand around the handle and twists it until it clicks. Castiel hears it and his nerves are skyrocketing now, but he pushes them down and waits— Nothing happens. There’s silence at the other end but he’s certain that Dean didn’t walk away, he’s certain that he’s still there, fear or humiliation probably halting his movements.

“Dean, listen to me.” He begins. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk out on you. I panicked.” He adds and Dean fights the urge to open the door.

He has about a dozen things to say but he can’t muster up the courage to do it. He stays silent, his hand still on the handle, burning to make a move.

“I know you’re there. Just open the door and talk to me.” Castiel’s words have hardly set as the door swings open, so fast that one could swear Dean was eager to do it, that all he needed was just a little push.

He almost forgets how to breathe as he stares back at a shirtless Dean, his torso chiseled to perfection, the scars and ominous tattoos etched across it, like another mystery he has yet to uncover about the man. He swallows hard and tries not to let his mind deflect from the important situation at hand.

Dean sees the look Castiel throws him and if he weren’t so self-conscious right now, he’d make some remark. He folds his arms against his bare chest and waits for Castiel to speak, his face pulled into a serious scowl.

“I know running off like that was a dick move, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t even think you liked men, let alone me. I guess I was just overwhelmed.”

“I don’t.” Dean interjects and Castiel frowns, unsure of what to say to that.

“What?”

“I don’t like you, Novak.” He makes himself clear and Castiel stares back at him with a raised brow, finding it hard to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“so, you just go around the neighborhood and make out with men you don’t like?” his question is rhetoric, and it makes Dean wish he never opened the door in the first place.

“No, but I sure as hell do a lot of stupid crap when I’m shitfaced. I mean, did you really think that I actually like you?” Castiel’s expression changes at his words, it’s a slight change, so minor that if you don’t look hard enough you wouldn’t be able to see it, but it’s there and though he hardly shows it, he feels the pierce of Dean’s words penetrate his heart.

He’s unsure of what to do at this point, Dean like a damn powder keg ready to go off at any second. He doesn’t know what to say or how to even say it because it seems like whatever he comes up with, Dean won’t care, that he’s made up his mind already and convinced himself that what he did last night wasn’t due to his attraction to men, that it was just the alcohol speaking. He suspects that he’s been struggling with his sexuality for an exceptionally long time and that anything that feels like a confrontation will set him off. It’s true, no one knows about Dean's true sexual identity except for the two men he had slept with, and his father who went to the deepest and darkest lengths to make sure that his son quickly grows out of this ‘phase' because God forbid John Winchester raising a damn cock sucker in his house— he’d rather die.

“If your goal is to hurt me, it’s not working.” He says and takes a step forward closing the large gap between Dean and himself, but it’s only for a moment, Dean steps back, the slight fear in his eyes evident. He swallows hard and when he feels comfortable enough to breathe again he releases a deep breath, his chest heaving as he does so.

“Castiel, I don’t need this drama, and I certainly don’t need you, so why don’t we just forget about last night and move on with our lives.” There’s absolute silence around them and for a moment it feels as though the world had stopped turning. He tears his eyes away from Castiel’s, afraid that if he sees the damage he’d done he’d want to repair it.

“So, this is it? We just pretend like nothing happened and go back to not talking?” Castiel questions despite knowing the answer. Dean looks up at him once more and shrugs, his expression nonchalant as if he couldn’t give two shits about any of this.

Castiel steps back, the hurt evident in his eyes. He’s not sure why it hurts so much and why he even likes this idiot of a man to begin with. It could be the fact that there was an unmistakable spark between them, however small and insignificant at first, a spark that they both could feel, that he wanted to explore and find out the meaning of.

He draws in a sharp breath and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and it feels as though he has lost the ability to speak. He gives up and steps off Dean’s porch before walking away without looking back. Dean watches, he aches to run after him and pull him back, but he doesn’t, the damage is already done and there’s no going back. This is the end of their very short-lived friendship.


♧♧♧


January 31st. It’s been a week since Dean had spoken to Cas, let alone seen him, whenever he does, he pretends not to, it’s stupid but he keeps it up, positive that the longer he stays away from the man the faster they can both get over all of this crap.

He’s in a small bar with Benny, catching up and having a few drinks, but not too many to make stupid mistakes again, though he doubts that it’ll happen with Benny because he just doesn’t really feel anything for him, he feels more like a brother to him than anything else. He asks about Anna and what happened to her, and though Dean doesn’t want to talk about it, he caves and tells him everything about how they parted ways, and how there wasn’t really a connection between them.

“how would you know? You’ve been with her for five minutes and all you guys did was fuck.” He says and Dean shrugs his shoulders, silently agreeing with the man because it is true after all, whether or not he had a connection with Anna will remain unknown to him because he never tried to find out, he never cared enough to.

He reflects on Benny’s words and a part of him wants to go to her and fight for a second chance. I mean, for all he knows he could be missing out on a lifetime of happiness all because his stupid heart didn’t make multiple flips the first, second and third time they kissed.

“you think I should try and get her back?” he questions only to know what Benny would think about it. Ultimately, he doesn’t need Benny's approval or disapproval, something in him just wants someone to tell him not to do it, to tell him that it's stupid and it’ll get him nowhere.

“I don’t think she’d wait this long for you, mate. But I guess you should give it a try, only if you really want to.” The blue eyed man shrugs.

Dean hums idly, his eyes moving from one cheery stranger to another, wishing he could have whatever they took.

They continue to drink in silence and before they finish their beers Castiel walks in accompanied by Mick. He doesn’t see Dean seated at the bar and Dean doesn’t notice him either, his mind drifting between this and that.

“there’s your buddy.” Benny points with his head and Dean follows his eyes all the way to Mick and Cas finding a seat a few feet away from them. Fuck!

“hmm…” He carefully eyes them as an unsolicited wave of jealousy courses through him. He tightens his grip around the beer bottle in his hands and quickly brings it to his mouth as a means of distraction. He empties the bottle with one swig and slams it down so hard that the table shakes from the abrupt force.

Benny senses the tension and the jealousy and for a split second he wants to get up and scurry out of the room but he stays put. He has no problem with people being gay but lord knows that after all these years he still doesn’t truly understand anything other than heteronormativity. He takes a breath, his body looking stiff and uncomfortable.

“do you, erm… are you two—” he falters, not knowing where to begin with his question.

“—a thing?” Dean finishes his question for him, his brows arched. “no, god no.”

He notices Benny’s shoulders fall in relief and that’s when his mind drifts to the question he’s been burning to ask ever since his birthday, ever since he noticed the tension between him and Castiel.

“How do you know him, Benny?” If he didn’t know better it’d sound like he’s somewhat protective over Castiel and that he knows that whatever happened between the two men was Benny’s fault.

“come on, I saw the way you two were looking at each other the other night, like y’all knew each other. What happened between you two?” He presses.

Benny sighs and looks over his shoulder to see if Castiel had spotted them yet— he hasn’t. He turns back to face Dean, his brows drawn in shame.

“We became friends just after he moved here. He was a friendly guy, charming and just fun to be around—” he begins and Dean silently agrees with him. He found Castiel very charming, even the first day they met, the day he wanted to bite Dean’s head off for yelling at his son.

“—but, at the time, things were very different from now, our views, our morals…” he struggles. Dean can tell what it’s about but he stays silent and waits for him to finish. “I found out about him being gay and I just, I pushed him away and we haven’t really spoken ever since.” He concludes, his voice laced in shame.

Dean’s teeth are clenched and his jaw twitches as he tries to process Benny's words without taking them to heart. He glances over at Castiel who’s enjoying a glass of whiskey with Mick, the smile on his face genuine and relaxed. Even though he might be slightly jealous of Mick, seeing Castiel smile calms him greatly.

He looks back at Benny who’s eyes can’t seem to meet Dean’s, the guilt in them far too great to be overcome with his usual nonchalant façade.

“now, I know you don’t need me to tell you just how fucked up that is.” His tone is harsher than expected but he doesn’t really care.

“I get it, you were born and bred in the south, a true fucking Texan man, but that’s no excuse to treat people like shit.” He adds.

“I know, I was an idiot and if I could make it right, I would, but I can’t—"

“—but you don’t want to.” Dean interjects. “if you wanted to make it right then you wouldn’t be avoiding him right now.” He hops off his stool and grabs his jacket before putting it on.

“come on, man. Are you serious right now?” he throws his arms out, quite agitated by Dean’s response.

“I don’t feel like drinking anymore, okay?” Dean mutters and walks away. He makes it out without Castiel seeing him and he feels grateful for that, he’s not sure what he would’ve done if he did— probably act like a dumbass again.

The air outside is cool but pleasant and he takes some time to appreciate it as he saunters to his car, slowly, almost as if he’s waiting for something to happen or for someone to storm out of that bar, but they never do and Dean feels like 30 seconds waiting on a damn man is 30 seconds too long.

He jams his keys in the keyhole and unlocks the car— He’s still waiting— He opens the door, it’s old hinges squeaking as he does so. Nothing happens, no one approaches him, so he gives up and slides into his car before driving off, his heart shattered, the feeling unexplainable.


Eight-forty-five, thirty minutes later and he finds himself parked outside a small yard. The house almost goes unseen in the dark as a large oak tree stands before it. He switches off the ignition and stares at the place, there’s a dim light coming from the windows and that’s all he needs to know that she’s home. He gets out and makes his way over to the front door. The wooden floor creaks from beneath him, the sound, alarming. The whole neighborhood is dark and quiet, and it reminds Dean of the times he still used to hunt. It’s been a long time since then but he’s still aware of his surroundings, and if push comes to shove one of these days, he’d be ready for anything.

He draws in a deep breath and forgets all about the creepy neighborhood before knocking on the front door. There’s still silence, in the house and all around him. He knocks again, and it goes unanswered again.

‘Come on, Anna!’

His mind whispers as if actually upset that the girl he doesn’t want is ignoring him. It's a good thing, well, it would’ve been if he didn’t feel like crap right now. He craves to be touched and reassured and he doesn’t know where else to find it right now.

He knocks two more times and finally gets a response. The young woman stands before him, her deep red hair tied into a bun, a pair of black framed reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose. She’s surprised to see Dean— surprised but glad. She knows what he did was fucked up but she can’t deny the fact that she’s been thinking about him and burning for him ever since they last saw each other. She knows that if she opens this door and lets him in, he’s gonna end up hurting her again, but she does it anyway, stashing away the two fucks she gives about her heart so far down that it feels like it was never there in the first place.