My Fallen Angel (Destiel AU)

Chapter 5

***Just sort of like an explanation of what's happening since I forgot to include one in chapter four... (I'm the worst author ever, I know) So yeah. Kind of short, but lets you look into Dean's past a bit. I promise next chapter will talk more about the band and everything. :)***

A soft voice awoke Castiel in the early morning. He stretched out, and huddled down into the soft covers of the bed he laid in. A low sigh escaped his lips, and he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, trying his best to block out the sound of a man’s hushed voice beside him. He wasn’t having much luck. Rolling over, he drew his heavy eyelids back to examine the room around him. The pale green walls, dark covers,  and tacky lampshades screamed “cheap motel” and for a moment, Cas was completely bewildered. Where the hell was he?

“Yeah.. I know…” Dean murmured to someone. “Bobby… Yes, I get it! Bobby, just listen to me.”

With sudden interest, Cas propped himself up on his elbows, leaning against the pillows, and scanned the room for Dean. By the door, Dean’s dark figure stood, resting his head against the shady, wooden door.

“I can’t come home right now…” He let out a long breath. “Because. You can’t owe Crowley money, and not pay him.” The voice on the other line shrieked something into the phone, and Dean grimaced.

“Why? Because I didn’t have the damn money!” His voice was rising higher in pitch, and he turned back, looking to see if Castiel was awake. As their eyes met, Dean froze. He tried a small smile before hissing a rushed ‘I gotta go’ into the phone, and clicked it off. Pale skin and glowing green eyes strode towards Castiel.

“Did I wake you?” Dean murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He ran his thumb absently over Castiel’s bottom lip and smiled in concern. Secrets or no secrets, Cas adored him.

“Nah.” He lied.

“Good.” Dean rolled down onto the bed and took Castiel into his arms. He smelt so sweet, like fresh rainfall, and something muskier that Cas couldn’t put a name to. He was warm, too. Like Cas’ own personal sun.

 They laid there quietly for a few, peaceful moments before Cas pulled away and frowned into Dean’s eyes.

“Who was on the phone?” He asked. Dean bit his lip, and looked down at Cas’ frowning face before he answered.

“Bobby… He’s… Sort of like my Dad.” Dean answered.

“Oh… And Crowley?”

“The guy you saw me fighting with.”

“Oh.” Cas wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but kept his mouth shut. The images of Dean’s angered face beating down on Crowley filled his mind, and sparked a low flame of fear and horror in his stomach. Clamping down on the feeling, Cas buried his head in Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t until he noticed the fabric of his shirt sticking to Cas’ cheeks that he realized he was crying.

“Cas…?” Dean whispered, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face out from its hiding place. His face was creased in worry, and his grip was tight and urgent on Cas.

“I can’t do this Dean…” he sobbed, gripping him tighter, and clenching down on the sobs that were threatening to claw their way through his chest.

“Do what? Cas? Baby?” Dean became more insistent, curling in around Castiel.

“This!” He exclaimed, voice breaking. “I can’t just leave my life behind and go running off with you.”

A wave of hurt washed over Dean, but was quickly replaced with sadness. His eyes dropped, and he slid his hands away from Cas, leaving the skin of his cheeks cold and empty.