Only You

Old Habits Die Hard

"Hello, Dean." Cas picked up the phone. Even though he was in Heaven, he still had great reception. He heard Dean frantically begging for his help. "Calm down, Dean. What are you facing?"

"I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA! IT'S LIKE A FUCKIN' DJINN MERMAID OR SOME SHIT AND I'M STUCK IN THIS FISH TANK THING AND I CAN'T SEE SAMMY! AH, MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, IT'S BALEERGGGHH!" Dean made a noise he was dragged under the water, the phone sizzling out with him. Cas materialised where the GPS tracker on Dean's phone said he was before it died. He still owed Dean his life, even if his family had erased Sam's memories too. He still felt extremely guilty about all of it. After that night, his entire family decided they all needed new vessels, and Cas' true vessel aged, until he had re-entered James Novak's body. The spell had worked, Cas' poison stopped and Dean remembered nothing. It felt like a second chance or a cruel joke when Cas dragged Dean out of Hell. Cas still couldn't decide which. Now, a couple of years later, they were all working together.

He tried his very best to forget the way he used to feel about Dean, because he couldn't ruin their friendship again.

He tried his very best to forget the feeling of Dean's fingers carding through his feathers. Dean was the only person, other than Gabriel who when he was younger would help Cas groom them, to have ever touched his wings, and no one had touched, or even seen them, since.

He tried his very best to forget the way Dean purred into his ear. He still remembered Dean's exact words. "What's the matter, Angel? Afraid of the dark?"

He tried his very best to forget the feeling of Dean's lips on his, enlightening a spark down in Cas' gut, a spark that Castiel was very afraid of.

He tried his very best to forget these things, because if he didn't, he would get that feeling down in his stomach. The feeling he had first discovered in the three months that Dean had been a Demon. It was an ache, the feeling you got when you wanted something with every fibre of your being, but deep down you knew that you weren't allowed to have it. What had Sam called it? Heartbreak. He sighed, and decided to stop feeling sorry for himself. After all, owing them his life, Sam and dean's problems always came first.

He looked around the dark, moist cavern that he had appeared in, and saw a load of empty cylinders filled with water, with only a little breathing space at the top. They were all connected by a thick pipe, which was also filled with water. That must be how this Djinn-Mermaid hybrid travelled around, victim to victim. Cas followed the cave, listening out for any sounds. He couldn't sense any life forms, not even his own. The cave must've been messing with his 'Angel-Mojo' as Dean liked to call it. He heard splashing, and quickly let his Angel Blade drop into his hand. He snuck towards the sound of something thrashing around in water. He rounded a corner, and if this wasn't so serious, Cas would've laughed. A lot. Dean was in one of these cylinders, with what looked just like what Dean had described it as. A Djinn-Mermaid hybrid. Dean was shouting and cussing at it, kicking out with his legs, while the D-M tried to stab Dean with his own sliver blade, no doubt dipped in lamb's blood. Cas found it very comical, but he decided Dean was going to know what it felt like to be a shish kebab pretty soon if he didn't intervene.

He flew over to Dean's 'fish tank' and shoved a hand through the glass, breaking it and all the water inside spilling out onto the floor. He caught the creature's tail, and pulled it out through the small hole he had made with his fist, leaving cuts all down it's body. He dropped it on the floor, leaving it to Dean. Cas didn't like killing things, but would always do what was necessary. But, Dean probably wanted revenge on it, for, well, you know.

As Dean kicked at Cas' hole, making it big enough for Dean to fit through, Cas laughed. He just laughed. Dean thought, mesmerised, but it stirred something, deep, deep inside of him. Something important. Something meaningful. Something forgotten.