Hunting Season // A Destiel Fanfic (AU)

An Aftermath

Saturday // 12:03 pm

"Want some water?" Dean didn't know what to do anymore, he fucked up trying to get on the angels comfortable side it seemed and he isn't really the best at communication. He was very close to just let it all go down the landslide, but kept a firm grip to go against the earthquake which was his brother Sam in this case.

Castiel winces when Dean asks him a question, fear flaring up again in him. He holds back a whimper and slowly forces his shaking wings to fold behind him again. Now they dont even fold right, the one Dean grabbed hanging limp and soaked with blood. "N-No," Castiel shakes out, voice pained and barely audible. He keeps his arms around him, curled up on the floor, not looking at Dean.

Dean took a deep breathe, angry at himself... he knew better than to even lay a finger on the angels delicate wings. "I know the chances of you not forgiving are high— but I hope you understand I'm really sorry for even laying a hair on your wings... I should've known better." Dean began to walk into the living room as well as take his flannel off.

Castiel isnt familiar with forgiveness because he hasnt ever been allowed to be mad at someone. He just stays where he is, eventually managing to fall asleep to push away the pain. The floor is cold and hard, but sleep feels better than staying awake.

Dean eventually noticed Castiel fell asleep and took a little advantage. He carefully lifted him up, carries him into the bedroom, and rested the angel in the bed. He covered up the bloodied area on his wing so his bed wouldn't be soaked and tucked the angel in. He left a glass of water on the nightstand table with a small post-it note saying he had permission to drink it if needed. Dean then left, the door cracked an inch or smaller open and began to clean up the house a little.

Before dusk, he was outside doing Castiel's job— chopping fire wood.

Saturday // 5:13 pm

Castiel wakes up when his wings flare with pain, trembling. He forces himself to sit up, looking at the note. But he doesnt dare drink it, once again fearful of Dean. He gets up, forcing himself to his feet despite the pain. He walks outside, ready to do his job to avoid punishment. He freezes when he sees Dean.

Dean hacks down one last time, shirtless and moist with sweat even though it was fall. He wiped his forehead with his forearm and noticed Castiel. Dean began to pick up some quarter logs, "Hey— Thought you'd want to stay in bed longer..."

Castiel glances at him, a tiny twinge of something in his chest. But the fear overtakes it easily and his eyes snap to the ground. "I came to chop the wood, sir," he whispers. "We can go to the bedroom if that's what youd like." The thought terrifies him but he at least can hide that.

Dean shook his head, "You get rest and heal as much as you can... I don't wanna see you in anymore pain at the moment..." Dean then traveled inside and outside to drop off some more wood.

When he finished, he grabbed his shirt and the axe before going inside.

Castiel winces. "I'm sorry, Sir," he says, feeling that somehow it's his fault for being in pain. He isnt sure what to do. He steps into the house, looking down.

Dean eventually notices Castiel better after he started the fire and bit his lip a little. "Hey, don't you apologize for my mistakes," Dean shook his head as he crouched down to look up into Castiel's eyes, "You did nothing wrong— I'm the mean one..." Dean pointes and jabbed his own chest.

"You did nothing wrong, sir. You can do whatever you want to me," Castiel says, eyes on the ground.

Dean sighed and placed a hand on Castiel's cheek, "I did something wrong Cas... I touched you where I shouldn't have— knowing your situation..."

Castiel flinches at the touch. "You can do whatever," he says again.

Dean took his hand off of Castiel's cheek and made a fist to punch a lamp off the small table next to the couch. Breaking all over the floor behind the couch. "Fuck!" Dean barked and sat down on the couches rubbing his face.

Castiel flinches at the sound of the table breaking but tries to force his mask back up. "I'm sorry, sir." He keeps his eyes on the ground, not sure how to make this up to Dean.

Dean sniffed, "I dont understand why you don't have any opinion 'all of a sudden'..." he had an idea on why, but said it in annoyance.

Castiel winces at the words, keeping his eyes down. He doesnt want to be punished again. He is terrified of Dean now, but he tries to push it down. "I'm sorry, sir," he says again, an edge of panic since he doesnt know how to appease Dean.

Dean looked up at Castiel. "Can you tell me why? Is it in your vocabulary?" Dean was beginning to get a small salty attitude in his voice.

Castiel winces yet again, having trouble hiding it. He doesnt know what to say. "I dont know, I'm sorry, sir. Just tell me what you want me to do and I will."

Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes a little more before sitting back on the couch take a huge breath. "I guess you can clean up the lamp I just broke..."

Castiel gets a trash bag, crouching to clean up the broken pieces of it. He throws them away, continuing to stare at the ground. "Anything else?"

Dean peered making sure area was clean. "What is there to do?"

"Anything you need, sir," Castiel murmurs, head bowed. His wing still twitches limply behind him, destroyed now.

Dean sighed, "I'm sorry I busted up your wing even more..." Dean looked at his thighs infront of him with a blank stare.

"Its alright, sir," Castiel murmurs but he has been feeling this creeping sense of dread. There is no way they can save his wings now and it terrifies him.

Dean licked his lips a little. He then stood up and began to unbuckle his belt. Gently biting his bottom lip silently.

Cas stays at attention, keeping his mask on his face. He sighs, wing limp still.

Dean takes it off and grabs Castiel by the collar to pull him closer. Dean then went over to the duffle bag and began to rummage through it. Pulling out ropes and belts. Dean then grabs Castiel from his collar again with his other arm full of belts to walk over, down the hall and opened the door which lead to stairs— a basement.