Anesthesia

Cas: Forgiveness... Maybe.

I flip through Dean's old photos. His loving mom cradles him. He's so small in this one. So innocent. I can't help but smile. My fingers fly up to his necklace, that I now wear around my neck. I fiddle with it as I continue to file through the photographs. The loose ones crinkle between my fingers and I be sure to be delicate with them as I place them in one of the pages and close the album. I place the small leather book down and walk to the other side of the room. I shift on my toes and back on my heels as my fur slippers squeak slightly. I have cooled down a lot since last week. I feel calmer, but not ready to trust Dean. Will I ever be able to trust him? I sigh heavily and shuffle out of the room that reminds me too much of who I still love, despite his broken promise. I decide to brew a cup of tea to busy myself, although I don't need it. As I boil the water I decide to go sit in the burgundy leather couch. My eyes search over the many books containing old novels and lore books. I feel my lip jut out in a pout. My mind dates back to the day he kissed me for the first time. The way his kind green eyes gazed into mine. And right before he kissed me, he told me he loved me. He said that I was his angel,his guardian. And now I just feel broken, like my wings have been clipped. I feel my chin quiver and my brows knit together. I'm no guardian, I'm just a fucking baby. God I hate being half human. I wish I was pure angel, strong and no strings attached. I hate having these 'feelings'. Feelings suck.
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I hear the click of the door as it closes. It's startles me. I shoot up from my sleeping position and drop my angel blade to my hand. I grip the smooth, familiar handle. I hide behind the pillar and peer into the hall for a quick second. I hear clunking down the stairs. Who's here and how did they find me? It must be Edreil. I've always had some issues with particular angels ever since I gave Lucifer consent a little over 8 months ago. I grip my angel blade tighter and jump out swinging. My stomach jumps as I see the familiar blue jacket blur as Dean screams like a little girl. My brows relax slightly, but I keep my expression stern and rigid. Sam's hair whooshes in the air as he steps back in the shock of it all.
"Oh. Hello," I say to them. "Sorry," I say, lowering my blade. I look down at my furry robe and adjust it so my bare chest isn't showing. Dean raises his eyebrows at me and I see that familiar smirk, ghosting on his lips. I avoid his gaze and avert my eyes. I feel nauseous seeing him. His familiar scent drifts over to me and I inhale sharply. Once the nausea has subsided I move again.
"Um. I—I'm sorry. I had nowhere else to go. I'll leave," I say, voice trembling. I look at Sam because it's so much easier to look at him. I clasp my hands together and start backing up as Dean's expression changes in my peripheral vision.
"I can go," I say. "I'll just—" I say pointing to the back. Sam steps forward.
"Wait," Sam says. "Don't go."
Dean swallows hard. He hasn't spoken a word yet. He hasn't said anything because he knows how hard it would be for me to hear his voice. He finally moves.
"I'm going to... go get my... keys," he croaks, backing up. He practically stumbles up the steps. I watch him go and start to feel my throat ache. That feeling when you're about to cry and everything tightens up...
"How have you been?" Sam asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. I walk over to the couch and he sits beside me.  I stare at my lap.
"Not well."
"You're right. That was a stupid question," he says sadly.
"It's fine. I just can't even look at him," I say to him.
"How long do you need? We can come back. Or... He can leave. I don't want you to be alone. You've gotta know though, he's hurting too. He's been through way too much for a human, Cas. He uses alcohol as some sort of coping mechanism. And I know what he did was hurtful to you, but I don't think he was the one that went in for the kiss" I flinch at the word. "And he needs you. He can't do this without you. He pulled away you know. He just—can't lose you," Sam explains.
"Don't speak for him."
Sam rubs his thighs. "Well I can't lose you either." Sam laughs. "And we ain't got no beef do we Cas?" Sam says chuckling. I smile.
"No I suppose we don't."
"Why don't you talk to him?" I sigh shakily. My stomach churns. It feels as though my insides are turning like gears in a factory. The thought of speaking to Dean makes me want to vomit. I picture him looking into my eyes searching for a sign of forgiveness. I picture him holding my hand, and stroking my palm with his thumb. I picture my hand quivering, wanting to run my hands  through his hair so badly. I picture the gentle caress of his soft skin on my stubble. I inhale sharply.
"Fine. I'll talk to him."