Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There’s no way around it, Dean. It’s in your contract, you have to go.” 

“Bullshit, I hired you because you’re the best entertainment lawyer in the business. Get me out of it.” Dean glared at Crowley through his laptop. If he had a choice, he’d prefer to tell Crowley to shove it and end the meeting. Unfortunately, he needed the smarmy Brit more than he needed Dean.

“And I stayed as your lawyer because I’m your friend.” Crowley let that hang in silence between them until things calmed down. Dean knew he was being difficult, and it wasn’t Crowley’s fault. His lawyer and Charlie, his personal assistant, had stayed with him out of friendship well after they should have moved on. He’d put them both through the professional wringer, and at a minimum, he owed Crowley the courtesy of listening. 

“Let me be frank, shall I?”

“Are you ever anything else?”

“Touché, that is why you keep me in your employ.” He smiled that smug smile, knowing he was about to win the battle. Because of course, he was. “Yes, the show ended five years ago, but you are still living off the residuals, are you not?”

Defeated, Dean let out a weary sigh. It always came down to the money. Money he needed and was going to need for the foreseeable future.

“You know I am.”

“I do, and it’s those same residuals that keep Charlie and myself on your payroll—just barely. We may be friends, but I have values and not working for free is one of them. Now, the very last contract negotiated included a clause—which we discussed and you agreed to—stating that participating in special events and promotions related to the show was mandatory and could impact future residuals.” Crowley leaned toward the camera and looked regretful. “I know how difficult it’s going to be, but they’ll sue you for breach of contract. With no future work on the horizon, you can’t afford to not go.”

Dean felt the walls closing in on him. Everything he’d done in the past five years had been designed to keep him away from the world. And now he was expected to show up and be front and center for four whole days of photographs and panels and autograph sessions. Four whole days with the people he cared about most in the world who thought he was a washed up addict that ditched them the moment the cameras stopped rolling. Four days in close proximity to Cas, the one person he couldn’t hide things from.

“Now there is a teeny little silver lining in all of this and I do believe it will be your deciding factor….” Crowley didn’t elaborate. Dean knew that the lawyer liked playing cat and mouse. He would wait until Dean broke down and asked.

“I’ll bite. What’s the upside?”

“This particular contract ends after the reunion cruise. You’ll be free and clear. Think of your attendance as a parting gift to all the fans who got you where you are today.”

Yeah , Dean thought sourly, alienated from my friends and family and living alone in the middle of nowhere . But, Crowley was right, he should attend.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Dean ended the call before Crowley had the chance to say anything else. It’s not that he expected the lawyer to gloat, he just needed their meeting to be over before he changed his mind or had a full blown panic attack.

****

Castiel drank his morning coffee while scrolling through the itinerary his agent had sent over. The cruise fit nicely between a couple of small jobs he had lined up, and it would be nice to see everyone again. Except maybe Dean. He couldn’t believe his old co-star was actually going. There’s been a handful of conventions since shooting wrapped, and Dean hadn’t been bothered to show his face at a single one. He hadn’t bothered to show his face, period.

After a very successful decade on television, the Spooky Files cast and crew had one final celebration before everyone parted ways. It was the last time he’d seen or spoken to Dean. The rejection still stung, even now. They were best friends, or at least Cas thought they were.

Chapter Text

Getting to Miami was just as exhausting as Dean expected it would be. It was no small miracle that no one had recognized him at either airport. Not like it used to be when fans—or paparazzi—seemed to be everywhere and had no qualms about approaching him. The stress of worrying about being identified, along with his fear of flying, had him ready for a shower and a nap by the time he got to the hotel.

The ship wouldn’t be boarding until the morning. Charlie had given him his full itinerary, and the next four days were going to be filled with all of his obligatory commitments. Dean was effectively screwed. When he wasn’t scheduled to do photo ops or autograph signings, he was on stage participating in panels. Thank God Crowley had managed to get him out of any solo panels—his anxiety practically hummed at the thought of having to stand on stage alone for an hour, being drilled with all kinds of questions. Where he’d been and what he’d been doing since the show wrapped was something he didn’t want to talk about. There was the story everyone was told, and then there was the real story. Neither of them was something he wanted to think or talk about, especially not in public. 

He was almost exclusively paired with Cas for every activity because, of course, he was. They played the starring roles in the show, and their on-screen chemistry had become the stuff of fandom legend. Fans decided early on that the relationship between the two main characters extended beyond the working one seen on screen. The network noted the ratings spike whenever their characters had a story arc that intimated a friendship and decided to lean into it with the use of subtle and not-so-subtle subtext. 

The result was one of the most popular fandom ships in television history. The desire to see their characters, Jimmy and Michael, together became a bigger drive for ratings than the show’s story arc itself. The network stopped short of letting it happen, they feared losing their conservative fan base. Subtext was fine, canon was not. Not even in the last season, when there was a heavy expectation from the fan base to let their favorite characters get together in the end. 

Castiel was openly gay and had always been open to the idea of having his character, Jimmy, develop a relationship with his partner, Michael. He lobbied for it several times. It was more complicated for Dean. He was bisexual, but not openly. Never openly. His dad might be long dead, but Dean never got over his disapproval when he tried to come out in high school. John beat him back into the closet, and he had only thought of coming back out once—for Castiel. 

Not that Castiel knew that. Dean kept a tight lid on his feelings while the show was being filmed. They’d developed a strong friendship and Dean was wont to risk it if his romantic feelings weren’t reciprocated. The last thing he wanted was to fuck up their on-screen chemistry because he misread their personal one.

The relationship was never officially confirmed on the show, but teasing it kept them on air for a decade. Dean would have gone along with the characters having an on-screen relationship, but no one asked his opinion. Instead, corporate made the final decision, and that decision was to kill Jimmy off in the series finale right when it seemed like he was going to profess his love for his partner, Michael. 

The worst part for Dean was the PR tour before the last episode aired. He knew the fans were going to hate the finale as much as he and Cas did, but they were obligated to make it seem like they were happy with the ending. There were late-night TV shows to tape and morning programs to visit. With pasted-on smiles, they pretended to be thrilled with the denouement and end of the show everyone had come to love. It was misery, but they did their jobs. Ironically, it was the hardest acting they did for the entire time the series ran. 

Five years later, Dean sat alone in his hotel room, drinking overpriced whiskey from his mini fridge and staring out the window. There was a staff reunion dinner happening in a restaurant a few blocks away, but he decided to blow it off before he left home for the airport.

His phone rang; Charlie’s name popped up on the screen. Sometimes he wondered if she knew him better than he knew himself.

”Hey, Red. What’s up?” The fiery redhead had been his personal assistant since the beginning of his career. Brash and loud, she was unlike anyone he’d ever known, and he’d be utterly lost without her. Their professional relationship had crossed into friendship long ago. Dean didn’t think he’d have made it this far. She was a lifesaver. Literally. 

“I knew you’d skip the dinner. Is everything okay? How was the trip? Have you seen anyone yet? Have you seen Cas?”

”Whoa, one at a time, okay?” Dean chuckled at her enthusiasm. She was his only friend these days since he’d driven everyone else away. Crowley liked to say they were friends, but Dean was pretty sure the Brit would ditch him in a minute if his funds ran out. Charlie, though, was a lifer. “You knew I would, everything is fine, the trip was exhausting, but I’m having a drink now. I haven’t seen a single person yet, and that includes Cas. And before you ask, yes, I ate a healthy dinner and only one drink. I know that’s all I can have with my meds. Anything else, Mom?”

He could almost hear her eye roll. She fussed over him, maybe a little too much, but it’s not like he had anyone else. It felt better than he cared to admit.

”But are you okay? You haven’t been out in public since—“

”Since I almost died?” He didn’t see any point in dressing things up when he was talking to Charlie. They both knew what she was thinking, and they both knew how dark it could get in his head. “I’m fine. The only thing you have to worry about is the ship disappearing in the Bermuda Triangle. Even then, your pay comes from my accounts automatically, you’ll be fine no matter what.”

”I know you think you’re funny, but I’m seriously freaked out that a fan convention for a show about supernatural mysteries is happening on a cruise ship traveling to Bermuda and back straight through the triangle. That’s tempting fate, and I don’t like it.”

”I think I’m adorable, and you worry too much. What’s the worst that could happen? Really?” Oh, they both knew what the worst thing was and that it had already happened. “People are scary, not fairy tales and folklore, and I’ll be avoiding them as much as possible.”

”Dean. You’re there to interact with fans, you have to talk to them.”

”And then I can go back to my cabin and hide out. The brochure looks like you got me a nice room, Red.” And she had. The photos showed a spacious luxury suite with an ocean view and a private balcony. He assumed all of the cast had been given preferred lodging, but Charlie had promised to get him lodgings in a quiet, low-traffic area. “I’ll spend all of my free time back there and order in room service.”

“I called in a few favors and got it included in your rider. You’re a big draw and the organizers know it.” Again, she was worth her weight in gold. He wasn’t planning to work in the business again and had already adjusted to living as frugally as a washed-up celebrity could. Crowley and Charlie were still necessary expenses; staying out of the public eye was more complicated than it seemed, given the circumstances. His staged, very public drug overdose and stint in rehab made him a popular target for the paparazzi. The two of them worked hard to keep him off the radar, and he was grateful.

”You shoulda come along, there’s definitely enough room.”

”Sorry, but if I were there, you’d spend the whole time avoiding Castiel and the rest of the cast.”

”Not like I could, they’ve got me paired up with Cas all weekend.”

“Your friends miss you, Dean. They’ll be glad to see you.” This was the same argument they’d been having back and forth for years. Charlie was convinced his friends would welcome him with open arms. Dean wasn’t so sure. He changed his number and cut all ties to them years ago. He’d been too overwhelmed to face them in the beginning, and then it was just easier to keep going.

”I’m not that person anymore, they’ll figure it out pretty quickly.”

Charlie sighed on the other end, knowing she was wasting her breath. “Just try, okay? For me.”

”Yeah, whatever.” 

They finished their call, and Dean spent the evening wondering what was happening at the dinner. Had it ended already? Was everyone hanging out for drinks? Did they even notice he was missing? Were they talking about what an asshole he was for ghosting them all? Was Cas there, was he hoping Dean would show, or was he relieved he hadn’t? 

Dean took his sleeping medication and went to bed early. The next five days were going to be exhausting and he wanted to at least start out decently rested. The very last thing he thought of was Cas’ blue eyes and the way they used to crinkle at the corners when he smiled.

It was the first time in months that he didn’t have any nightmares.

Maybe everything would be okay.

The cast got early boarding privileges, and Charlie had come through again by arranging a private boarding in advance of everyone else. His goal was still to avoid seeing Cas for as long as possible. The private car brought him to the port where his assigned handler was waiting with his boarding documents, convention badge, and room card. The check-in protocols were expedited; he needed to go through security, but the check-in had already been taken care of.

There were a few minutes while he was being processed that Dean felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck like he was being watched. He looked around but didn’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. It’s just nerves, he thought, and quickly put it out of his mind.

The suite was everything the info package had described and more. One entire wall was floor-to-ceiling glass with a view of water and sky. He opened the door to the balcony and stepped out. The morning sunshine felt good on his skin. Dean drew a deep breath of fresh air, held it, and slowly let it out. A bit of tension eased out of his body. Each side of the large balcony was walled off, providing complete privacy. This part of the cruise wouldn’t be so bad. 

A giant fruit and cheese basket was waiting on top of the wet bar. Dean noted that the bottle of wine had been swapped for something fizzy and non-alcoholic from France. His reputation preceded him, even if it was all lies. A quick check of the minibar confirmed that there wasn’t a drop of booze anywhere. He didn’t have more than a single drink anymore because of his meds, but just the same, It was going to be a long cruise.

There were several hours to kill before he had to show up in the green room. Dean took advantage of the time by unpacking the few outfits he’d brought along—all long pants and long sleeves. When that was done, he poured himself a glass of the fizzy drink and headed back out to sit on a lounger with the book he’d brought along to read when he wasn’t working.

****

Castiel sat at the end of the couch in the green room, drinking some bottled water and watching the rest of the cast mingle. The opening session was starting soon, and the energy in the room was palpable. It felt good to be together again, even if there was still a giant hole in his heart where one person was missing.

“Do you think he’s going to show?” Chuck asked what everyone else was thinking.

”Five bucks says he won’t,” said Gordon. He was always looking to make a few bucks on the side. It was the same bet he’d made the half dozen times they’d all been together since the show ended.

”Sure,” drawled Meg, who was sitting sideways in one of the two grey armchairs with her legs dangling over an arm. “What about you, Ruby? Feeling lucky?“ 

Ruby rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nah, I couldn’t give a crap either way.”

”I’ve already lost that bet to you several times. I’m out.” Garth was usually an easy mark for Gordon. Out of everyone, he’d been the last holdout, believing Dean would eventually come around and reach out to his friends again. For him to lose faith in their old castmate meant something.

”Ten and we have a deal.” Ketch, as snooty as his formal theatre training in London, never took part in the wagers. “This time it’s contractual. Winchester might have blown us all off after his little problem, but he won’t do it if he’s getting paid. He probably needs the money for blow—both kinds.”

Gordon and a few of the others laughed at the tasteless joke; both Garth and Jack looked like they wanted to cry. Castiel didn’t want to hear anymore. Dean might be an addict who ditched his entire friend group the moment the show ended, but he’d been his best friend for a decade before. He’d hoped there was going to be more once filming wrapped—Dean had sent him all kinds of mixed signals that Castiel had carefully hidden away over their years together. It still hurt that he’d walked out on their friendship that easily. 

He’d been in love with Dean and kept it to himself for years. The first reason was that he was never sure if his friend felt the same. Dean never said he was open to being with a man, and finding out wasn’t worth the risk of losing his friendship or making things awkward on set. The success of the show was largely due to their chemistry on and off screen and he didn’t want to fuck it all up for nothing.

The second reason was the fans. They were relentless in their hope for Jimmy and Michael to get together, and it bled over into wishing the same for the actors’ private lives as well.

Fanfic based on the show included stories about them in real life. Ash kept tabs on what was posted. Sometimes, there were really good story ideas he forwarded to the show’s writers. Other times, he sent the links out on their group chat. Their colleagues teased them endlessly about Michael being Jimmy’s bottom. Honestly, it was flattering that people loved the show so much that they created their own stories to keep it going. 

And then one day, a few years in, Ash sent them all the links with one word. Destiel. Fans had decided they were a couple in real life and gave them their own ship name. They somehow saw what Cas felt, and it hit uncomfortably close to home. He and Dean laughed it off, but it made him self-conscious every time they were in public together. Ash started following it all with a sock account on social media. Everything was scrutinized, right down to the clothes they wore. He spilled coffee on a shirt before leaving work once, and Dean lent him an old T-shirt. He stopped at a store to grab something on the way home and was recognized. The photo of him in Dean’s clothes made the rounds as “proof” that they were sleeping together. 

If he had told Dean how he felt and, by some miracle, he felt the same way, they would have gone from living in a fishbowl to living under a microscope. Cas had seen enough Hollywood marriages break under the strain of constant scrutiny and refused to risk what he hoped he and Dean could have. All along, Castiel planned to wait until the show ended and then see if he had a chance.

But it never happened. The cast had their final wrap party and parted ways for the last time. He messaged Dean the next day to see if he wanted to come over for dinner where Cas was planning to finally, finally, bare his soul. Dean never answered. 

After a few days of not hearing, he got worried and showed up a Dean’s home. No one was there. He assumed Dean was on a personal vacation—he loved taking his classic car on road trips, leaving his phone at home so he could fully recharge. But those trips never lasted more than a few days. Castiel waited a week, then another. He knew Dean had to report on set for a supporting role in a movie soon. By that time, he was equal parts angry and worried. He called Charlie—something he should have done in the beginning. She was vague and non-committal. And, in retrospect, upset. Castiel should have pushed at the time, but he didn’t, mainly because he was too focused on his own feelings.

The next time he tried to call Dean, his number was no longer in service. Charlie refused to accept his calls as well, and a few days later, he found out why. Every entertainment news outlet was reporting that Dean had gone on an alcohol and drug-filled rampage and nearly died from an overdose. Stories went on to say that his best friend had been admitted for long-term treatment at an undisclosed rehab in Europe.

He never heard from Dean again. No one did. Messages sent to Charlie went unanswered until she called Castiel and told him that Dean wanted nothing to do with him. He just disappeared from their lives—from his life—and even stopped working. 

It hurt to be left behind so easily. A lot.

”What about you, Novak? You in?” Gordon looked like he was already counting his potential winnings in his head.

”No.” It came out a little harsher than Castiel meant. “I don’t give a shit either way. Dean’s an asshole whether he shows up or not.”

”Tell me how you really feel.” Every head in the room turned to see Dean standing in the doorway. “Should I just turn around and leave?”

No one moved. The rest of the cast watched Dean and Castiel glare at each other across the room. Neither spoke long past the point of making everyone uncomfortable. 

”Dean, it’s good to see you, buddy.” Garth, ever the optimistic peacemaker, broke the tension by going to Dean and giving him an enthusiastic hug like he hadn’t ghosted them all for half a decade. “I’ve missed you. C’mon in and have a seat. Can I grab you a water?”

One of the handlers showed up at that exact moment and redirected all of the attention.

“The opening and announcements just started. Everything is still as planned. Garth, you’re on in two. After that, you’ll have no more than five minutes the bring out Gordon and Ketch to join you. The three of you will carry things for a little while until it’s time to bring out Ruby and Meg. All together, the five of you have forty-five minutes to kill before the house band starts to play the theme song, which will be the cue to introduce Dean and Castiel.” The handler had been reading from a tablet the entire time and only stopped to look at the actors when he was done. “Are we good?”

”Let’s do this!” Garth clapped the handler on the shoulder when he walked by on his way to the stage. Everyone else, except for Castiel and Dean, decided that they needed to be waiting in the wings until they were called. The race to get out of there was far from subtle. The last thing Castiel saw was Ketch handing cash over to Gordon and Meg on their way out the door.

They were alone now. If he had a good excuse, he would have left Dean behind and followed everyone out. But there is a difference between feeling petty and acting on it. Besides, it might be his only chance to be alone with Dean, and he wanted answers.

He looked at Dean, really looked. His former friend had changed. Fine lines and creases around his eyes and mouth had replaced what used to be a famously youthful appearance. His hair was darker, and there was a hint of grey at the temples. Castiel had never seen Dean look so wan. His shoulders curled forward with arms folded in front of his chest like he was trying to appear smaller. Almost as if he wanted to disappear. Overall, he looked like he’d been fighting a war and losing.

Addiction will do that to you.

”Hello, Dean,” he said out loud. As much as he meant what he said, he still felt contrite. Dean looked uncomfortable enough without being called an asshole in the first five minutes. They were stuck working together for the next few days. “I’d like to apologize for my words; it was unprofessional and I’m sorry.”

His hardened expression revealed absolutely nothing. Cas had no way of knowing whether Dean was angry or if he was even bothered at all. 

“Yeah, whatever. Can’t say that I didn’t have it coming.” Dean uncrossed his arms, walked past Castiel to the table of refreshments, grabbed a water bottle, and parked himself on the couch. All while Castiel watched in silence, trying to figure out what to say.

”So that’s it? You cut us all out of your life without a word and just waltz back in five years later like nothing happened?” He really was an asshole.

”So it seems,” Dean twisted the lid off his water and took a long drink. “Is that a problem?”

The man was impossible. There was a time when Cas thought Dean sometimes pretended not to care about something as a coping behavior to hide his insecurities. But maybe he’d been wrong and Dean really was just an ass. Certainly history had proven it, hadn’t it?

The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could press the issue and start a fight that would likely last the entire convention and ruin it for everyone. Or, he could accept that Dean wasn’t the person he fell in love with all those years ago and wasn’t worth pining for anymore.

Castiel grabbed his own water and sat at the far end of the couch so he didn’t have to look at Dean directly.

”Not anymore, no.” He picked at the label on the bottle and kept his focus on his hands and not the man sitting a few feet away. “I got your message loud and clear when you told Charlie to brush me off.”

”Good.” There was a tremor of emotion in Dean’s voice. Castiel turned to look at him, but his expression hadn’t changed. “You know what happened, just like everyone else. I didn’t need you then, and I don’t need anyone now.”

That hurt, but what else was new?

”Just here for the money? Your friends and fans can go to hell?”

”What can I say? Retirement is expensive.”

Let it go, he told himself. He’s not worth it. He’ll break your heart…again.

“Whatever,” Cas pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the news. If Dean didn’t care, neither did he. “Just try to stay clean for the weekend; don’t ruin it for the rest of us by overdosing again. You may not care, but the rest of us do.”

”Nice. I’ll do my best.”

”I’m sure.”

Neither spoke again before the handler came back to retrieve them. They silently stood together in the wings, waiting for Garth to bring them on stage with everyone else. 

“Now, a reunion wouldn’t be a reunion without these next two guests. You all know them as Jimmy and Michael, together again for the first time in five years, let’s hear it for Castiel and Dean!” The show’s theme song started playing through the speakers while the crowded room full of fans clapped and cheered.

Castiel pasted on his best red carpet/TV interview smile and went onstage with Dean, who was doing the same thing. He had to admit that his former co-star looked a lot better when he smiled. Not that it was real, or for him.

There were two empty stools at the far end of the row where the rest of the cast were waiting. Castiel stopped centre stage just long enough to wave and pose for photos, Dean doing the same. Garth handed them each a microphone and Castiel took the seat next to Ketch. Dean took his spot at the end.

Garth did what Garth does and quickly pulled them into talking about how thrilled they were to be there. That turned into easy banter between everyone on stage, except Dean, who laughed at the right places but otherwise remained silent. It was Gordon who upset the delicate balance with a barb veiled as a joke.

”So, Dean, where have you been all this time? We would’ve had one of these years ago if we thought you’d show up. I thought you didn’t like us anymore.”

Leave it to Gordon to light a fuse just to watch it burn. He probably had another bet going to see if he could get Dean to lose his composure. As much as Castiel had been hurt by Dean’s actions, it wasn’t okay to publicly call him out like that. He was pretty sure the last thing Dean wanted to talk about was going to rehab.

”C’mon now, Gordon. Play nice or it’ll be another five years before we see him again.” Awkward laughter scattered throughout the room as Castiel did his best to redirect. The way Dean rubbed his hand on the back of his neck told him that he was more affected by the jab than he was letting on. “Ignore him, Dean. He’s still mad about having to share a trailer with Ketch.” Which was actually true, but not the point.

”Naw, it’s a fair question.” Dean answered and shot a quick look of gratitude his way. Even after so many years of absent friendship, they could still read each other. It gave Castiel a warm feeling in his chest that he was loath to identify as affection. Oblivious to whatever was going on in Castiel’s mind, Dean kept talking. “I was just so tired of smelling that cheap cologne you use, Ketch. But if I’d known how much you missed me, I would have stayed away longer.”

That got enough of a laugh from the audience to break the tension. Ketch looked like he had a less than friendly retort, but Garth was still running the segment and ended things before it went further.

”Play nice, fellas. I didn’t get a trailer at all, and you don’t see me complaining.”

”That’s because you were always in Benny’s,” quipped Meg. Laughter and cheers filled the room. Garth and Benny’s characters, as well as the actors themselves had always been fan favourites. Even so, they had stunned everyone a year ago by announcing they’d secretly gotten married. It was well known that the two of them were friends, but no one, not even in their circle of friends from the show, had realized their relationship was romantic.

Garth used the remaining ten minutes to keep the energy high. Dean smiled in all the right places but didn’t participate voluntarily. Ketch kept shooting him dirty looks. Things were just starting to wind down with a list of reminders and instructions for the remainder of the convention when Castiel heard a metallic creaking noise. No one else on the stage seemed to notice.

He heard it again and looked up just in time to see one of the unused stage lights swaying ominously over Dean’s head. The metal frame that was supposed to be holding it was twisted and appeared to be straining to hold on. There was one more creak, then a snap before the light started to fall.

There was barely any time to process what was happening. Castiel launched himself off his stool and slammed into Dean, knocking him clear off his seat. He hit the stage floor facing up, and Castiel landed on top of him, shielding Dean’s head and face with his own body. 

The light hit the floor next to them and exploded. Shattered glass sprayed in every direction. Castiel could feel the shards hit his back and side where he was blocking Dean. People screamed and started to panic. Castiel didn’t move. He hovered over Dean, searching his face for signs he’d been injured in any way.

”Dean, are you okay?” With one hand, he gently brushed a few tiny pieces of glass out of Dean’s hair.

”Yeah, I think so.” Dean was too stunned to move. Castiel wasn’t in a hurry to leave. “Thanks, but are you hurt?”

Dean’s eyes were pools of emotion, and Castiel didn’t know what to read from them. He didn’t know what he wanted it to mean.

”What happened to you, Dean?” He said it so low that he wasn’t even sure that he’d said it out loud until Dean answered softly.

”Everything.” His green eyes shimmered with tears. “I missed you so much.”

A thousand thoughts and feelings twisted within Castiel that he didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or yell. Dean was the one who left him. 

“Are you guys okay?” One of the ship’s crew members knelt in the broken glass on one side of them, while another was on the other side, presumably to lift them up off the floor.

He watched Dean close his eyes and take a deep breath. By the time he opened his eyes again, his expression was back to being shuttered. The moment was broken.

There were a few tiny cuts on his hand and the back of his neck. By the time Castiel was finished getting checked over by the ship’s doctor, Dean was gone.

Chapter Text

”Aren’t you uncomfortable in so many layers?” Cas had his head cocked to the side, looking like Dean was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

”Uh, no?” Truth be told, he was very uncomfortable, not that admitting it would ever be on the table. Dean was uncomfortable about a lot of things. He’d been uncomfortable all through the panel yesterday. Just like when he had checked in, he’d felt a prickling sensation like he was being watched. Which, of course, he was. That was why he was there. His mind was playing tricks on him after being alone for so long and then being thrust back into the public eye. It made sense that he was twitchy.

He was also uncomfortable after he’d almost spilled his guts to Cas when they were on the floor the day before. The light falling and almost killing him rattled Dean enough to be caught off guard. For a minute, he’d thought Cas was going to kiss him. They’d been interrupted before he could find out. Dean couldn’t decide at the time whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He still didn’t know. After an almost sleepless night oscillating between his anxiety and his surprise at finding out he still had feelings for Cas, he was exhausted. And for all of that tossing and turning, he didn’t have any more answers than when he boarded.

Coming on this cruise was a mistake. There was nothing for it now except to see it through and get back home where he’d be left alone and feel safe. Seeing everyone again underscored how solitary and lonely his life had become. But it didn’t matter. It was his life now. Hollywood was in his rearview mirror.

The prickling sensation was back. Anxiety, he told himself. One thing at a time. Breathe. Just get through the day. He’d already survived solo photo ops and a shared panel with Garth and Benny. That had been a breeze since all of the attention and questions were focused on the newlyweds. They’d even brought out a giant wedding cake and offered a slice to anyone who came up to them and asked a question. It was the perfect distraction since not a single person asked Dean about his five-year absence or the rumors surrounding it.

Later, he thanked the guys for running interference for him. Garth didn’t even pretend to lie. 

“We really have missed you, Dean. Whatever it takes to let you know we’re here for you.” Garth was so earnest when he said it that he knew it was the truth. He even accepted a hug from both of them, along with an offer to get together sometime after the cruise. A promise he might actually keep.

The photo ops afterward went by in a blur. The convention staff ran things like a well-oiled machine. Each fan came up to pose, got their photo taken, and was ushered through in about ten seconds. Dean had time to take a breath and then get ready for the next picture.

Now he was stuck at an autograph table with Cas, feeling like he was under a microscope again. Yeah, he was uncomfortable about a lot of things, but his outfit wasn’t one of them.

”It’s a cruise to Bermuda, Dean. You have to be dying in pants and long sleeves.” Castiel was too observant. “Don’t you have anything cooler?“

“I’m fine,” Dean answered. There was no way he was going to risk having anyone see what he was hiding underneath. He’d lost enough already. His privacy was all he had left. “It’s not that bad.”

“They sell clothes onboard. I’m sure you could—“

”I said I’m fine, alright.” The words were out a little more harsh than he’d intended, if the way Cas’s jaw clenched meant anything.

”Forget I said anything.” There was ice in his voice. Cas turned away and told the handler that they were ready to start signing autographs. Dean lined up his row of metallic and black Sharpies. The sooner he got out of there and back to his room, the better.

The lineup was long, and while it didn’t go as fast as photo ops, it was still basically a blur of faces. Dean smiled at all the right things, thanked everyone for coming, and did his best to channel the Dean Winchester the fans had spent their money to see.

Cas sat next to him the entire time, doing exactly the same thing with his own line of happy fans. The chill between them persisted. Dean did his best to pretend like Cas wasn’t there and was mostly successful until they both reached for the same marker at once. Dean snatched his hand back like it had been burned. 

”Really?” Cas lifted an eyebrow and gave him a look that clearly said that he thought Dean was acting immature.

Dean ignored him and grabbed a different color.

When the last autograph was signed, Dean capped his marker and tossed it on the table. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink in one hand while flexing his fingers in the other. It had been so long since he’d done an autograph signing session that his right hand was stiff and cramped.

”Hazards of the job,” said Cas while reaching for his own water. 

The room quickly emptied. Chuck had formed an indie band that had become pretty successful over the years, and they were performing a free concert tonight. Fans rushed off to catch the early dinner, sitting in order to get to the show early to get close to the stage. It was just the two of them and a few staff members setting things up for the next session, even though it wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow.

”Dean?” One of the handlers came up to the table just as they were both getting ready to leave. Her expression was a mixture of apologetic and nervous. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but a fan gave me this when we were closing the doors. He insisted that I give it to you.”

Several fans had given them small gifts during the signing. It wasn’t something that was encouraged, but people liked to share art or things they’d made as a show of appreciation. Security usually vetted them first for safety, but was loath to upset anyone unless the gift was inappropriate or unsettling. Case in point, they’d confiscated a pair of underwear a fan had called “gently used”, and escorted the person away when they started to make a scene. 

The handler was holding a mahogany wooden box. The antique finish was smooth and complemented by a dark iron latch and hinges. Clearly, an expensive gift. Expensive enough to give Dean an uneasy feeling.

”Security checked it out?” 

”No,” she shuffled nervously as she said it. “It looked like everyone was gone, and they got a call that people were already showing up for the concert. They had just left to go help when the man came up to me. I checked it, though, and it seems fine. It’s nothing weird except for the way the guy insisted I give it to you personally since he was too late to come in. He doesn’t want it signed or anything. It’s just for you.”

She handed the box to Dean. He placed it on the table in front of him. A chill ran through his body; the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn’t know why exactly, but everything about it set off alarm bells.

Castiel was still sitting beside Dean and not even bothering to hide his eavesdropping. The way he was watching the exchange made Dean feel even more uncomfortable and self-conscious.

Suck it up, Winchester, he told himself. She said it was fine. He thanked her and waited for her to join the rest of the staff who had finished and were leaving. It was just him and Cas. The convention team had arranged things with the cruise company so that talent had private corridors connecting key areas where fans had no access. It included a set of restricted elevators that he was planning to take to his stateroom since he was done with people for the day.

”Are you going to open it?” Cas didn’t look like he was going anywhere.

Dean moved the small latch and lifted the lid. The smell of heavy rose perfume hit him instantly. A sick sense of dread settled in his gut. He knew exactly what was in the box.

”No.” Dean opened it all the way. A heavily perfumed black pillar candle rested on a red crushed velvet lining. He knew the scent. The cloying scent had been haunting his nightmares for the past five years. It was oppressive, and Dean’s stomach lurched. He stood so quickly that his chair fell backward and clattered against the floor. Dean stumbled over it while trying to back away. “No. It can’t be.” Pure terror triggered the start of a panic attack. He had to get out of there, he had to get away. “No,” he said again, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “He’s dead, it’s not real. He’s dead, I saw him die.” The wall stopped him from backing away any further. Dean looked around the room with wild eyes, searching for the only person who could have known about the candle. 

Alastair was alive. He was alive and coming for him.  He was going to make Dean pay and then finish what he started. His stomach roiled again. Dean needed to get out of there right now, he needed to get away.

He was desperate to be anywhere else, but his legs weren’t working, gravity took over, and he slid down the wall until he got to the floor. Dean couldn’t move; he felt like he was underwater. He couldn’t breathe. The corners of his vision were getting fuzzy; he was going to pass out.

“Dean! Dean talk to me.” A strong hand gripped his shoulder. It was a lifeline keeping the dark from pulling him down. The voice was far away and muddled. “Stay with me, okay? What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“Don’t leave me,” he gasped. The words were hard to get out because it felt like a band had tightened around his chest. Dean looked up to focus on where the voice was coming from. Blue, piercing blue eyes met his. He remembered those eyes. It was Cas. Cas was here with him.

“Breathe with me, Dean.” Castiel took one of Dean’s hands and placed it on his chest. “C’mon, we’ll do it together. Deep breath, take your time, that’s it.” Dean did his best to copy the movements without breaking eye contact. “That’s it, and again.”

With no idea how much time had passed, Dean finally felt like he was back in his body and could breathe again. His palm was still pressed against Cas’s chest. Underneath his shirt, he was toned and warm. Dean could feel the steady beat of his heart under his hand and was embarrassed at the feeling of intimacy between them. Intimacy, he was sure Cas didn’t want or feel.

“Thanks,” he muttered and pulled his hand back, and looked down at the floor. Anything to hide his expression.

“Hey,” Cas used two fingers under Dean’s chin to lift his head. The corners of his mouth tipped up in a reassuring smile, making Dean feel safe and steady. “There you are. You had me worried.”

”M’fine.” He tried to look away, but Cas wouldn’t let him. In his periphery, he could see that the box with the candle was still on the table. Slowly and accepting the hand Cas offered, Dean stood up and tried to pretend he was okay. He nodded toward the table. “I’m going back to my room. Can you please throw that away?”

”You’re not going alone. Wait right there.” Cas made quick work of throwing the box in the nearest garbage and came back to him. The heavy floral scent had dispersed enough that Dean could hardly smell it anymore. He was also too tired to argue about needing help getting back to his room. The truth was that he was grateful for the offer. The panic attack had left him so exhausted that curling up right there on the floor was tempting.

There was a time when Dean would have done anything to have Cas’ arm wrapped around him the way it was right now. So if he closed his eyes and let Cas lead the way to his stateroom, who would blame him? It felt good to have the weight resting on his shoulders, and the subtle woodsy scent of Cas’ cologne helped him forget about the perfumed candle.

The rest of the cast and convention staff were presumably busy with dinner and the concert set up, so they didn’t run into anyone else along the way. Dean was grateful for the privacy; he didn’t want to let go of Cas.

They made it to the private elevator and then to Dean’s floor, which, he learned, was Cas’ as well. Convention organizers made sure that both show leads had been assigned this exclusive part of the ship. 

Cas took Dean’s pass and opened the door to the suite. Instead of leaving Dean to enter alone, he walked him over to the couch before letting him go. The cushions were soft, and the only thing Dean wanted to do was curl up into a ball and disappear. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he felt jittery and needed something for the gaping pit of anxiety that had settled in his gut. 

“Here, drink this.” Cas handed him a glass of water from the mini kitchen.

“I could do with something a little stronger.”

“We might not have kept in touch over the last five years, Dean, but even I know you’re supposed to be dry. I’m not helping you relapse.”

He took the glass and drank. What was the point of arguing? Cas wouldn’t believe him anyway. Charlie and Crowley had been too good at their job. The whole world bought the story, hook, line, and sinker. After downing the full glass of water, he handed it back.

“It’s not what you think.” Dean got up from the couch and headed to the washroom where he’d left the shaving bag with his prescriptions. 

“That’s what they all say, Dean.” Cas followed him. Dean knew what he was thinking. If there wasn’t any alcohol, then there must be drugs. Well, there were, but not the kind his friend was thinking. He took a lorazepam from its yellow bottle and tossed it back before Cas could stop him. Dean met his eyes in the mirror and saw the pissy expression on his face. “What did you just take?”

He didn’t feel like arguing, so he handed the bag with all of its contents over to Cas. If he wanted to know so bad, he could Google them all. Dean trusted him not to blab it around, he’d always been trustworthy that way. Besides, he didn’t have it in him to lie right now. He needed to call Crowley to try and figure out what to do next.

“What are all these for? Are you sick?” Castiel followed Dean out of the bathroom and back to the sitting area where Dean’s phone was on a side table.

“I have to make a call.” He was tempted to tell Cas to go to his suite next door, but didn’t want to be alone. At least not until he knew what was going on. If it were anyone else but Cas, he’d ask them to leave anyway. But as long as he was here, Dean felt safe, and his need to feel that way trumped his need for privacy right now. “Listen, I need to call my manager. I’d prefer to do this alone, but you already saw what happened, and I could use the company. Just, whatever you hear, I need you to forget it. Capiche?” 

Castiel cocked his head to one side and looked at Dean like he was solving a riddle.

“I’m serious. If you can’t, then go now.” Please stay, he thought.

“You can trust me.”

Dean nodded once, relieved, and set up the call with his manager and personal assistant.

“Hello, Dean. To what do I owe this illustrious pleasure? Miss me already?” Crowley’s sardonic London accent came through on the speaker.

“You’re on speaker, Crowley. Castiel is here with me. Something happened.”

“Well, it’s about bloody time. I knew you two—”

“No.” Dean cut Crowley off before he could embarrass him. “Alastair’s dead, right?”

Crowley was silent for several seconds. “Of course. Why do you ask, or more appropriately, why are you asking now ?” Dean knew that what he meant was why he was talking about Alastair in front of Cas.

“Someone sent me a candle.“

“It’s a fan convention, I imagine you’ll be receiving several gifts. I should think you’d be thrilled to learn how happy they are to see you.”

“A black, rose-scented candle.”

Crowley was silent for a beat, and then answered, ”Bloody hell, did you see who it was?”

”No, they passed it off to a handler. But it’s the same one, exactly the same.”

“What did security say?”

It was bad enough that he had left his safe and secure home to be here. He already felt raw and exposed. The last thing he wanted to do was go through everything with the onboard rent-a-cops. 

“I can’t.” Dean shook his head even though Crowley couldn’t see it. “I can’t do that again. It was humiliating last time. The way they looked at me was like I was some kind of grotesque creature. Asking me all those questions and implying that I liked it, that I wanted to be there for any of it.” 

His stomach roiled again. This time, he was going to be sick. Dean slapped a hand over his mouth and ran to the toilet just in time for the water Cas gave him, and what was left of the half sandwich he ate during the last break to come back up. In the background, he could hear Crowley talking to Cas on speaker.

”What’s happening? Is he okay? Is he having a panic attack? He’s got pills for that if you ask him where they are.”

”He already had a panic attack and some kind of medication. What’s going on here? What aren’t you telling me?”

”It’s not my story to tell. You have to ask him.”

”I’m asking you. He’s not okay, and I don’t know how to help him. Is this about the drugs?”

”For fuck’s sake.” Crowley sounded exasperated. Dean was done puking but was staying put in case there was another round. He rested his head against the cool porcelain and shamelessly eavesdropped. “He was your best friend, you twat. Did you ever, in all the years you worked together, see him take anything stronger than an aspirin?”

”No, but the papers—“ Crowley cut him off.

”Is everything the papers say about you true?”

”What was I supposed to think? He stopped answering my calls and changed his number. You were the one who told me to stop calling.”  Dean could hear the anger and hurt in his voice. He wished none of this had ever happened. Cas probably hated him now. 

”Well, a real friend wouldn’t give up, would he? Perhaps you never really cared for Dean at all.” Crowley was intent on badgering Cas like a witness on the stand at trial. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what his lawyer was up to, but he was afraid he was going to drive Cas away again. Dean tensed his muscles, waiting for the inevitable blow-up.

”Fuck you, Crowley. I loved Dean. I would have done anything for him if I’d thought he felt the same, or even if he just asked for help. But he didn’t. He’s the one who walked away.“

Stunned silence filled the room. Dean didn’t believe it. Cas just said he loved him. Past tense. They could have been together all those years ago. Dean planned to tell him before Alastair happened, and now he knew what the response would have been. He’d lost so much, they’d missed out on what could have been. Alastair stole everything and left Dean to suffer as a hollowed-out shell of the man he’d been.

Tears blurred his vision, he swiped them away before they could fall. He was done; there was nothing left. Dean thought it couldn’t hurt any more than it already did, but he was wrong. Finding out he’d lost Cas before he got the chance to even be with him hurt so much more. He put a clenched fist to his mouth and bit it to hold back the sobs fighting their way out. 

“Well,” Crowley sounded way too self-satisfied for Dean to believe he hadn’t just manipulated their conversation. “Now that that’s settled, you go take care of Dean and don’t take no for an answer this time. Tell him that I’ll ring security and handle it. No sharing of personal information, just enough to get a little added security for the duration.“

”Should I have him call you back?”

”There’s no need. I’ll call Charlie, and she’ll call Dean. That’s how our little threesome works.” Again, Crowley seemed pleased with himself. The lawyer made a quick farewell and ended the call, leaving the two of them alone in the suite that suddenly felt a lot smaller.

”Dean,” said Cas. With the call ended, he’d come to check on him. There was Dean, sitting on the floor with one arm around the toilet bowl and another covering his face to hide the rollercoaster of emotions he was on.

“Are you okay?” Cas grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the tap before handing it to Dean. As he wiped his face, Cas got him some more water, encouraging him to take a few sips.

“We need to talk.”

****

Castiel never understood what Dean saw in Crowley or why he kept him around. Whenever he asked, Dean would simply say that the lawyer always came through for him—reliable, trustworthy, and a friend. Castiel, however, only saw a smarmy opportunist.

It had always grated on him because, deep down, he couldn't stand the Brit. Some part of him recognized it was jealousy—resentment over the access and trust Crowley had with Dean. Being pushed out of Dean’s life had hurt. Their friendship had ended, yet Crowley remained in his inner circle. Even after all these years, the wound still ached, making it far too easy for Crowley to get under his skin. And now, he was paying the price for it.

There was no way Dean hadn’t heard what he said. The only question was how he would react. They would likely never see each other again after the cruise, but that didn’t stop Castiel from caring what Dean thought of him. 

Broken hearts were funny that way.

He helped Dean get cleaned up and back to resting on the couch. Wanting to prolong the inevitable, he excused himself to the small kitchen to make some tea. He found a sleeve of crackers too, and plated a few to settle Dean’s stomach.

Dean was coming back into the bathroom when Castiel brought out the tea. “Had to brush my teeth,” he said before accepting one of the mugs and sitting down. “I don’t want to have this conversation with my breath smelling like the ass end of a skunk.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, the lorazepam helped. I didn’t keep it all in, but it took the edge off. I’m good now.”

Castiel had a ton of questions and no idea which ones he could ask without pushing Dean away again.

“Can I ask you what happened today?”

“You were there, man. You saw the whole thing.”

“I did, but help me understand.” A hundred different expressions crossed Dean’s face before he settled on something that looked like a mixture of dread and resolve. “You can trust me, it won’t go anywhere. I promise.”

Dean nodded like he knew Castiel was telling the truth. “Okay.” He drank the last of the tea in his mug and set it down on the table. “Just save your questions until I’m done. It’s been a while since I had to tell anyone.”

“Alright.” Castiel put his mug down next to Dean’s and gave him his undivided attention. He willed himself to look open and earnest. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to feel judged, no matter what he said. “I’m listening.”

“Do you remember the wrap party? The one for the entire cast and crew?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he said it. “The network booked the Roadhouse for the evening. It was a good sendoff.”   

“And everyone was there.” Dean worried his bottom lip while keeping his gaze focused downward. “Right down to the gophers.”

“It was one of the things I liked best about working on the show—everyone was part of the family.” It was one of the reasons the show had done so well for so long. There had been a feeling on set like it had been a labor of love more than just a production. The magic translated to the screen and kept the fans engaged well beyond a typical expiration date. “But, Dean, I don’t understand what that has to do with what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Do you remember the guy they used to call in when we did an episode with cryptids or aliens?”

“Creepy Al?” Castiel did remember. They only needed the man for a handful of episodes a season, but his work was terrifying and unforgettable. He’d been given the moniker because of just how unsettling some of his work was, but to Cas, it had a double meaning. Al kept to himself for the most part and seemed to enjoy his work a little more than necessary. That, and whenever he was on set, he had a habit of hanging around when he and Dean were shooting. He’d stay for hours and watch with so much intensity it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. “How could I forget. The guy was off.”

“You could say that.” Dean made a pinched expression, “He was there too.”

”I remember. He nursed a single beer all night and spent the whole time staring at us.” It had been creepy as fuck and Castiel was glad when the night ended and they could leave. “I heard that he died in a house fire a few weeks later. Poor guy, but he was weird.”

”Yeah, well,” Dean hesitated, “There’s more to the story than that, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. I mean it, even if you never speak to me after this cruise. No one.”

”I promise.” A sick sense of dread settled in Cas’ stomach. Dean had paled and looked awful. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what was coming next, but if it meant understanding what had happened to their friendship, he needed to know. “Tell me.”

”Al’s full name was Alastair. And he followed me home from the party that night.” Dean drew a deep breath, held it, and breathed it out slowly. “He wanted to know where I lived. I didn’t know he was there. I went to bed. Some time during the night he managed to disarm my alarm and break in. I don’t know what happened, but one minute I woke up to see him standing over me, and then I was coming to, chained up in some kind of dungeon.”

This sounded more like one of their story plots than real life. Surely Dean didn’t mean it the way he said it.

”I’m sorry, I’m trying to understand, when you say dungeon, you mean,,,?”

Dean closed his eyes and looked physically pained. “I mean, it was a dungeon. Like Fifty Shades of Grey with real knives.”

No. Castiel’s first thought was that it couldn’t possibly be true. People did that in horror movies and scary novels. There was no way Dean meant the same thing.

”I can see on your face that you don’t believe me. I get it.”

”It’s not that, Dean, it’s just—“

”Nah, it’s exactly that, but I wouldn’t believe me either. Except it’s true and I have proof.” Before Castiel could say anything else, Dean stood up and tugged his button-down out of his pants where it was tucked in. He made quick work of undoing the shirt just enough to pull it to one side and reveal his clavicle and upper chest.

“Is that…?” Castiel didn’t finish the question. He could see where the skin was thickened and silvery pale from what looked like old burns. Dean changed the direction of where he was pulling to show even more damaged skin. Everything under his shirt was scarred.

”Burns,” Dean said. His mouth was set in a grim line, like he was reliving the pain. He probably was. “There are cuts, too, but most of them are covered by the burns. And then there’s this.”

Dean lifted his shirt from the bottom with one hand and pushed the waist of his pants down on the right side. A raised keloid scar was on his hip flexor.  He’d been branded. It was shaped like an F but angled in a way that made it seem more like a club. Castiel had seen the symbol many times before.

”That’s the logo he used for his business, Knights of Hell.”

”Yeah, turns out he thought he was one for real and branded me as his property.” Dean redid the buttons on his shirt and tucked it back in. “The sick fuck kept me there for weeks.”

“The fire…,“ Realization dawned on Castiel, and he didn’t like where it was leading him. “He died in a house fire. You were there.”

“I set it. He was going to kill me, so when I had the chance, I took it.” It was costing Dean a lot to tell his story, he looked haunted. Castiel stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt. “I was chained the entire time. But on the last day he told me—“ Dean tipped his head back, fighting off tears that escaped anyway. ”He told me that if I was good, I could have a bed to sleep on. It was awful, but I did what I had to. When Alastair unchained me from the wall to move me, I knocked him out and ran.”

“And the fire?” Castiel asked gently, feeling sick over what he was imagining.

”Candles,” said Dean. “I knocked them over on my way out to stop Alastair from following. The entire time I was there, he left these black rose scented candles burning 24 hours a day. If I made too much noise, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d pour the hot wax on me. By the time I escaped, I was covered in burns.” Dean looked at his hands again and picked at a cuticle. “And other things,” he said so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear.

“The candle you received today was it the same? ”

“Exactly the same. I’ll never forget that smell.”

“And now you think Alastair is on the boat?”

“He can’t be.” Dean shook his head. “He died in the fire. The coroner said so.” Dean looked so tired and lost, and Cas wanted to wrap his arms around him and not let go. “He has to be dead.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Alastair kidnapped you after the wrap party. He kept you as a prisoner in his house until you had a chance to escape. You took the chance to escape when it came up and set a fire to get away. It worked, because you’re here and Alastair is dead.”

“Yes,” Dean’s voice wavered. “I had no choice, he was going to kill me.”

Cas couldn’t take any more. He moved to where Dean was sitting and pulled him close. The best friend and man he had loved and thought lost sagged into him like he was starving for touch and affection.

“I’m so glad you did. You’re precious to me.” Before Dean could react either way, Castiel changed the focus away from his words. “And someone sent you a candle today that was the same as the ones you saw at Alastair's? Except Alastair is dead, so it couldn’t have been him.”

“Yes.” Dean clung to Cas even harder. “If he’s dead, he can’t be on the ship. I overreacted. I’m so sorry. I feel like an idiot.”

”Don’t, I never should have believed the stories about you and rehab.” Cas felt incredibly guilty for believing the worst about Dean when he’d needed him the most. All of those wasted years when they might have been together were on him. A deep wave of regret washed over him, and remorseful tears spilled down his cheeks. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I believed it all and fucked up everything.”

“Hey, hey, no, Cas. It wasn’t like that at all. You were supposed to believe the things you heard. I paid Crowley and Charlie a lot of money to make sure everyone did.” Dean transitioned from being comforted to being the comforter. He palmed Cas’ cheek and wiped at the moisture with a thumb. “It killed me to have them send you away and hurt so much worse than what happened—what I did to you broke my heart.“

Cas let out a choked sob. “Really?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Do you mean….” There was no way he could survive having his heart crushed again, which would happen if he got this wrong.

”Yeah,” Dean angled his head ever so slightly and lightly brushed his lips against Cas’. “Yeah, I do.”

Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but Cas didn’t care. Five years of longing were washed away and replaced with the need to make up for lost time.

“I love you.” His heart rhythm picked up. “I have been in love with you forever.”

Dean turned up one corner of his mouth in a smile and answered, “I’ve been in love with you ever since we shot that scene where you rescued me from perdition and hid my body in a coffin that got buried, and my character had to dig his way out.” He kissed him again. ”What was with that, by the way?”

Cas chuckled low in his throat and kissed him back. It felt so good to have Dean here, like this, finally. It still felt too good to be true, but he wasn’t going to question it. “The writers didn’t put as much thought into that as our fans did.”

The spell was broken by loud music. Dean pulled away from him to reach for his phone. “Hey Charlie, you’re on speaker with me and Cas.” He put the phone face up on the coffee table beside them. “What’s up?”

”Dean, are you okay!? Crowley called and told me that—wait, did you say Cas?”

”Hello, Charlie. It’s been a while. How are you?”

”OMG, does this mean…”

”Not the time, Charlie,” Dean cut in before she could ask about something they hadn’t named yet. “You talked to Crowley?”

She was suddenly all business. “Yes, and to security for both the con and the cruise line. Whoever left the candle knew enough to avoid every CCTV camera. But there’s no way it could be connected to, uh, Alastair.” It was clear she was nervous about mentioning him in front of Castiel.

”It’s okay, he knows.”

”All of it?”

”Enough for now.” Dean cut her off again. “Even if it’s not, avoiding the cameras is fishy.”

”Agree. They’re going to increase your security for the rest of the event. Just in case.”

”Good,” said Cas. “I don’t want Dean in any danger.” Still seated beside one another, he laced their hands together and drew the back of Dean’s hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. Something about learning how wrong he’d been and how close he came to losing Dean overrode any and all senses of caution. “I just got him back.”

”Awwww,” crooned Charlie. “That’s so romantic.”

”Can it, Red,” snarked Dean, who was clearly loving the teasing. “Let’s finish this thing and get off this floating death trap before you get the chance to dissect my love life any further.”

”I’m just happy there’s finally one to dissect.”

”Ha, ha,” Dean answered. “Good-bye.”

Chapter Text

Dean woke up the next morning feeling better than he had in years. That was saying something considering a large part of the day before had been spent experiencing crippling anxiety.

The reason was lying flush against his side on the big bed. Cas had one arm and leg thrown over Dean’s body, pulling him tight. There was no way he could get away even if he wanted to—which Dean didn’t. Cas’ head rested on his chest, and his mussed dark hair softly brushed Dean’s chin. From this proximity, he could see where time had deepened the laugh lines at the corner of Cas’ eyes and peppered his ebony hair with a few strands of silver fox grey. Cas was one of those men who got better with age, and Dean was soaking up the evidence of it in the soft morning light.

Nothing happened the night before. Cas simply stayed, catching up over the last five years, until they were both exhausted. When he went to leave, Dean had been honest for once and asked Cas to stay. The day before rattled him, and he didn’t want to be alone. 

They settled on top of the bed with only the lightest blanket for cover. Dean insisted on changing into sleep pants and a fresh t-shirt but kept a soft, long-sleeved flannel on to hide his scars. Cas was intuitive and sensitive enough not to ask.

There was no rush today. The ship was docked in Bermuda for anyone who wanted to go on an excursion. Some smaller panels and activities were running but the convention organizers set the schedule to be low key until the excursions were over for the day. He and Cas had a duo photo op and panel late in the day, but outside of that, they were free to do as they wished. And this, right here, was what Dean wished.

Cas tightened his grip and stretched, signalling that he was waking up.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” Dean could hear the smile in his own voice. He angled his head and placed a sleepy kiss on Cas’ brow. “Sleep okay?”

“Mmmm.” Dean felt Cas reciprocate with a kiss over his heart. “Perfect. You?”

“Never better.”

”I don’t want to be presumptuous, but can I assume we’re skipping the off-ship excursion today even though some of the cast were meeting for lunch on land?”

”You can,” Dean kissed Cas; he’d angled his head upward and his sleepy smile begged for attention. “I have everything I need right here.”

”Except coffee?”

”Except that.”

They ordered breakfast from room service, which included a thermal carafe of hot coffee and Mediterranean omelettes. When they were done eating, Cas dipped back to his suite for a shower. After, they took their mugs and relaxed on the couch. They shared quiet confidence and gentle kisses, still catching up after five years apart.

”I was going to tell you, you know.” Dean stared into Cas’ eyes, wanting to make sure he was heard. “I thought I was risking our friendship, but I was going to tell you that I wanted to be with you as soon as the show wrapped.”

”But you didn’t,” there was a hint of sadness in Cas’ voice. Dean wasn’t sure whether it was from the time they lost or why they lost it.

”Alastair stole a lot from me—from us.” Dean tried to push away his resentment over what they’d lost and focus on what was before them. He took Cas’ mug and placed it on the coffee table next to his own. Then, he straddled Cas’ lap and looped his hands around his neck. “But we’re both here now and I ain’t going anywhere ever again if you don’t want me to.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Dean.” Cas pulled Dean in for a lingering kiss. The taste of coffee was quickly replaced by the taste of Cas, and it was everything he’d spent years longing for. “I’m the one who won’t be leaving you, ever again.”

Instinct took over. The tiniest groan escaped from the back of Dean’s throat. After so long, he wanted. He wanted very much. And from the way Cas’ body was responding in kind, Dean knew he wasn’t alone.

“Cas,” he palmed both sides of his face, resting his forehead against Cas’. This close together, and Dean could smell Cas’ natural scent. It reminded him of warm sunshine and something woodsy, and it smelled like home. Dean forgot all of the things he was afraid of and asked for what he wanted. “Need you,” he huffed and ground down on Cas’ lap. “Now.”

His love—finally, he was allowed to call him that—leveraged his weight, and his hands resting on Dean’s hips, to change their position. Dean was lying on his back, looking up into Cas’ darkened eyes, barely after he’d finished speaking.

Cas’ first kiss was passionate without being demanding. He felt wanted, but not pressured. Like he was something precious to be treasured, It made him want Cas that much more. Dean was in a rush even if Cas wasn’t. He managed to tug and pull at the hem of his shirt until Cas got the message and sat up long enough to peel it off and toss it on the floor. Dean used the opportunity to undo the button on his jeans and lower the zipper enough to see Cas’ bright orange boxer briefs.

Reciprocating, Cas pushed at the hem of Dean’s shirt. He still wore the flannel to cover his arms, and the tugging was enough of a reminder to throw ice water on his libido. Panicking, Dean grabbed a wrist and stopped Cas from going further. It had felt so good to be touched with any sort of affection, he’d forgotten the entire reason he’d spent the last five years hiding away.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” Honesty was all he had left to offer. “I’m not…the scars…I’m so ugly now. You don’t want me like this.” He could feel his eyes well up with tears.

Castiel took Dean’s hand from around his wrist and brought it to his mouth, palm open, his own eye welling with tears. He kissed Dean’s hand with a reverence that felt undeserved.

“My love,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of Dean’s palm. “I have waited so long to be with you. Nothing about you is anything less than beautiful.” 

All of the fear, hurt, loneliness, and regret he’d been carrying around for years spilled over in the form of bitter lamenting tears. Dean choked out a sob and shook his head like he didn’t believe Cas’ words.

“I’m no good for you.” Castiel deserved so much more than Dean had to offer. “I’m broken.”

“Shhhh,” Cas cupped one of Dean’s cheeks and brushed away the wetness. “You’re not broken. You’ve just been alone for too long. I’m here now. All you have to say is yes.”

Castiel looked at him with all the patience and gentleness in the world. He was safe here, safe with him. Somehow, he knew that he could trust Cas with all of it. 

“Okay.” He nodded. “Yes.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, willing himself to relax. “Just, don’t be disappointed with what you see.”

“Never, my love.” The smile Cas gave him was so bright that Dean needed to close his eyes. At the same time, he felt the gentle tugging at the string of his lounge pants. His cock sprung free as the pants lowered down his hips and the hem of his tshirt was pushed up. He was aroused, but the skin around his groin was still where Alastair had done some of the worst damage. Where his skin was supposed to be smooth and pale, it was puckered and angry.

Dean could feel his face burning with embarrassment and shame. It had taken a long time to come to heal from the trauma and pain, but this, right now, was the first time anyone not connected to medicine had seen his body since it happened. His entire body clenched, waiting for rejection. Dean bit back a sob and turned his head so he couldn’t see Cas’ reaction.

“Beautiful,” Castiel whispered so close to Dean’s body that he could feel the heat of his breath where his flesh was most sensitive. A hot open mouth kisses enveloped the tip of his cock while Cas’ tongue darted across his frenulum. “Just like I knew you would be.”

“Don’t tell me lies,” Dean sobbed; hot tears stung his eyes. “I’m hideous.”

”No, my love.” Cas moved up Dean’s body to cup his face with his hands and kiss him with more tenderness than Dean had ever experienced with a partner. “Never that. You’re everything to me, how could I be anything but in awe of you?”

Dean had no answers, but also didn’t have any faith. If he weren’t in his own suite and feeling the comfort of Cas’ body stretched alongside his own, he would have fled already. Instead, he was weak. The ache to be held, to be loved, the craving to be wanted at all, overwhelmed everything else, and he stayed still.

Cas filled his vision. Love shone from the wells of the same blue eyes he had missed so much. Dean felt safe, adored even.

“Look at me,” Cas said when Dean tried to break their gaze. “I want you to see how I feel about you.”

Without warning, Cas took him in hand, ran a thumb over the wetness that had collected there. He started a slow, steady rhythm that rocked Dean to his core—it had been so long since anyone had touched him there. Their eyes remained locked the entire time.

”I dreamed about this, you,“ Cas said. “You’re everything I ever wanted.” Dean couldn’t stop the small, whimpering noise he made. 

“Seeing you like this, watching you react to my touch, makes me want you even more than I thought was possible.” Cas leaned in and kissed him again, letting the slow drag of his hand set an unhurried pace. A needy little groan escaped Dean’s throat. Cas tightened his hand in response, causing Dean to buck up into it. 

Cas let go of him and took Dean’s hand instead, drawing it to his lips, kissing the palm again. He spoke before taking the pointer and middle fingers into his mouth.

”When you’re ready, this is how I’m going to love you. Watch what you do to me, imagine my mouth on you.”

Cas’ hand was back on his cock, jacking him slowly while he sucked Dean’s fingers, running his tongue around and between them and making Dean spark with pleasure. He hadn’t been touched with tenderness of any kind since before everything happened, and Dean was rocked to his core.

Stormy blue eyes filled with adoration became Dean’s focal point as his body seized. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and for the first time in years, Dean felt awash in love. The feeling stayed even after his body relaxed, boneless into the cushions. Tears collected in his eyes once more, but these ones, finally, were borne of happiness.

”Did I hurt you?” Castiel’s concern was written all over his face.

“The opposite. So good, sweetheart.” And, because Dean was nothing if not fair, “Do you want to switch places so I can take care of you?”

”You took care of me just by letting me in. We have all the time in the world. I’d much rather clean things up and just hold you for a while if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, more than.” Dean pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

”I love you, too.”

****

The green room was full; they were obviously the last to arrive. The way the noise level went from conversational levels to heavy silence was evidence that they were the topic of conversation. 

“I knew it,” said Rowena. Behind her on the couch in the back of the room, Ketch took out his wallet and handed some money to Gordon. In turn, he accepted the cash, divided it, and put some in his own wallet after handing the other bills to Rowena.

”It’s like you’re a witch with the way you know things,” Gordon said. “But I’m benefitting, so thank you very much.”

”That is what they say, dearie.” She gave Gordon a wicked little grin of satisfaction. “Hello boys,” she drawled. “I see we’ve made up finally.”

Dean felt his face color immediately. This thing with Cas was brand new, and he wasn’t comfortable having any of it under a microscope. He felt a reassuring hand on his back, and Cas took care of it for them both.

”Yes, well, whatever is or isn’t, any gossip you get will be a nonstarter if you embarrass us, so find another outlet.” The hint of warning came through loud and clear, not that Rowena was bothered. In fact, she grinned like the cat that had swallowed the proverbial canary.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Consider the matter dropped.” Rowena didn’t break eye contact as she lifted her hand to the side, palm up, “Pay up, everyone.”

Everyone else in the room placed a twenty in her open hand. Most chuckling good naturedly, except for Ketch, who looked angry at losing the rest of the money in his wallet.

”What was that all about?” Asked Cas.

”Just a teeny little wager when you were both late,” she answered while counting her cash and stuffing it into her pocket.

”She bet us all she could get you to admit there was something between you within five minutes,” said Garth.

”And you didn’t deny it, which is basically a confession. So congratulations and thank you.” Rowena was clearly delighted with the turn of events.

”Just keep your nose clean, would you, Dean,” said Ketch. “Literally and figuratively.”

He got booed by the rest of the group for being so crass, but a handler came to the door to fetch Dean and Cas for their panel. As they left the room he could hear a few of his cast mates rip Ketch a new one. 

It was reassuring to think that the cast was willing and ready to draw Dean back in right away without being privy to the details that Cas was. But he wasn’t surprised. Dean was easy to love. And Cas knew he’d been missed.

The stage had the same setup for the panel that it’d had all weekend. There were two stools with microphones and a table with water. The intro had been made, and music was playing them onstage. The audience was cheering enthusiastically.

He saw the black candle a half second before Dean and barely had time to adjust before hearing his gasp. The same candle he had thrown in the trash the night before was sitting unlit on the table between the two water bottles. There was no way it was a coincidence.

With split second decision, Castiel walked forward to the table and grabbed the offending candle, and walked it off stage to the security guard. Charlie and Crowley had done their job, they already knew what was going on and why the candle was a problem. The guard took it and radioed the rest of the team, presumably to be on alert.

It happened fast, and Castiel made it back to Dean’s side barely before the cheering stopped. Dean looked at him gratefully; Cas could see that he was a little pale. It took all of his restraint not to draw him in for a hug, but he did at least place a hand on his shoulder and whisper away from the microphones.

”I took care of it. Security will keep an eye on things. You’re safe.”

Dean looked at him gratefully and reached up to squeeze his hand in thanks. With a single nod, he channeled his trademark Dean Winchester grin and lifted the microphone to his mouth.

”Heya, Cas. Thought you got stage fright and were leaving me on my own out here.”

”As if I’d let you hog the limelight.” Castiel pulled his stool over to sit so close to Dean that they were almost touching. If someone came at them while they were on stage, every protective instinct he possessed would have him shielding Dean’s body with his own. And, barring that, he wanted Dean to feel safe.

His love had already survived Hell. Castiel would move heaven and earth to keep it from happening again.

Three-quarters of the panel ran smoothly. They told stories from the set and shared a light banter between them. Peals of laughter filled the large room, and by all accounts, it was a success. When the session moved into Q&A, the line formed quickly with extra security discreetly placed around the rear and by the queue. Dean’s people had done a good job getting security to take things seriously.

Most of the questions were fluff, asking things like when there’d be a reboot (probably never), or if they would do a reunion movie (the cast was open to that). They wanted to know if the relationship between their characters was romantic off-screen (official line: it’s up the the viewers to decide what they believe), or if their on-screen chemistry was so good because their off-screen chemistry was (we’re good friends). There was no way he was outing their relationship, it was barely a few hours old.

Two things happened to spiral it all out of control. First, a tall man wearing a ball cap and sunglasses came to the microphone. There was something vaguely familiar about him, and just looking at him made the hair stand up on the back of Cas’s neck. Dean must have felt it too because he could see the man tense in his peripheral vision. Without thinking, he reached over and offered his hand for reassurance. Dean took it and squeezed tightly while a low murmur ran through the crowd, with more than a few photos being taken. So much for privacy.

The second thing was what happened when the man asked his question.

”Is it true, Dean Winchester, that you left a man for dead while his house burned?” Something about the person’s voice made a chill run down Castiel’s spine.

There was one large audible gasp combined from every person in the room.

”What did you just say?” Dean asked. His voice sounded hollow, and Castiel felt a sense of foreboding.

”You heard me, pet.” One look at Dean’s face confirmed who the speaker was. Alastair. He looked different from how he remembered, but Dean’s reaction said everything. “You can run all you want, but you’re still mine.”

“No,” Dean whispered, shaking his head back and forth. “You’re not real.”

“Oh, I’m real pet. You know I am. I left my mark so you’d never forget me.”

A lone tear ran down Dean’s face; it was enough to shock Castiel into action.

“Security!” He yelled into the microphone, sparking mayhem in the room. Guards came from the wings to get Dean out of there, but they knocked a microphone down in front of a speaker and shrill feedback made everyone need to stop and cover their ears.

“There’s a gun!” Someone called out, and people started running toward the exit. Castiel couldn’t see what was happening since security was leading both him and Dean off the stage and away from the public areas.

The rest of it was a blur. Castiel remembered keeping a tight hold on Dean and demanding that they bring them to the safety of his stateroom instead of Dean’s. Surely they’d be safer there than in Dean’s room. The walk through the ship to the private elevator was tense. Two security members stayed with them, getting them to someplace safe. At one point, Castiel was sure he’d heard the reverberation of a gunshot, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. The thought that it would be that easy to lose Dean had his stomach in knots.

At Castiel’s door, one of the guards asked for the key but kept them from entering until they could verify that it was safe. The second one waited with them, staying alert and on guard the entire time.

“No good,” the first guard said when he returned. “Someone was in there unless these are yours.” They’d been spied on. The guard held up an 8 x 10 photo of the two of them asleep in Dean’s bed the night before. MINE was scrawled in red marker over the top of Dean’s sleeping form. In his other hand, he held up what looked like a worn leather dog collar. But the tag on it was engraved with the word PET, and the leather itself looked like it had survived a fire. Without having to ask, Castiel knew Alastair had put them there and that the collar had been used on Dean. The bastard had been in Dean’s room while they slept and then in his today.

“He was in our room,” Dean made a choking noise and folded himself into Castiel's arms so he didn’t have to see. “He was watching us.”

“We’ll call the police so they’re waiting when we dock. In the meantime, I’ll find another room for the two of you, somewhere safe.”

”We don’t dock for two more days,” Cas knew he was stating the obvious, but he felt better saying it. “How do you plan to keep him safe until then?”

”You’re safe now,” said the guard. ”And we’re going to keep you that way.”

One guard stayed with them while the other went off to see about new rooms. They quickly packed their rooms so when the head of security came back, they were ready to go. 

“We’re putting you in the Royal suite.” Castiel thought they already had the best lodgings, but apparently not. “There is only one, but I assume you won’t mind sharing?”

Dean had barely left his side; between what happened during the panel and now, there was likely little chance that “they” were a secret anymore.

”Of course,” said Cas. “And security will be at the door?”

”The entire time, even when you’re at the con tomorrow. No one gets in or out but you—not even housekeeping, if that’s okay.”

”It is.” Dean was still quiet and staying close to Cas like his life depended on it. The thought of making him face a crowd after what just happened and the questions Dean was asked turned Cas’ stomach. The poor man had been suffering alone and in silence for years. Those days were over. “We’re done for the day.”

Security stayed with them until they collected their things from both rooms and moved to the new suite. If Castiel thought the first stateroom had been luxurious, then this one was palatial with floor-to-ceiling windows that were two stories high. Stairs led to a bedroom loft and an ensuite, and the entire place felt like a spread for Architectural Digest. It was opulent and probably cost more than he and Dean would make for the con, combined. Fortunately, they weren’t paying. 

They agreed to have dinner sent up and to keep the guard placed by the door until it was time to get to the con in the morning. Security had all night to find Alastair since he’d gotten away, and Castiel had all night to bring Dean back down from his heightened state of panic. He’d refused to see the doctor, claiming he had sedatives already, but Cas knew it was more than that. Dean didn’t want anyone to see his scars, and Castiel was determined to honour that.

As it was, the evening ended up being a quiet one. Dean never let Cas out of his sight. He stayed glued to his side while they ate and spent the rest of the night watching old movies, as his confessed coping mechanism. When it was time to go to bed, Dean took his hand and led him up the stairs without saying a word. They got ready and crawled into the California king-size with an unobstructed view of the night sky through the windows. Dean all but demanded to be the little spoon, which stirred every protective instinct Castiel possessed.

There was nothing sexual about their sleeping arrangement, but it was one of the most intimate experiences of Castiel’s life. If he lay awake all night determined to keep the man wrapped in his arms, safe… well, that was his prerogative, wasn’t it?

He had Dean back in his life after five long years and wouldn’t lose him again.

Chapter Text

The last full day of the cruise started with a view that was unrivalled by any Dean had ever seen. The orientation of the ship had their suite with its two-storey windows facing the east. As far as he could see, it was just water and a dawn sky in hues of blues, bronze, and gold. As the sky slowly moved toward daylight when the sun started creeping over the horizon, Dean reluctantly admitted that he needed to get out of bed. There was one call he needed to make before Cas woke up.

He slipped out of Cas’ arms, which was something he hoped he’d never have to do again after today. The lush carpet on the stairs masked his exit. He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it the day before and sank into the lower bathroom. The door closed with a soft click, and then he dialed.

”Dean!” Charlie’s voice sounded equal parts relieved and angry. “I’ve been trying to call you all night. Security called and told us Alastair is alive and on the boat. Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone? Crowley and I are out of our minds with worry.”

”I’m sorry.” Dean could understand why she was upset. If their places were reversed, he’d be furious too. “I wasn’t in any shape to talk, alright? But I’m fine.”

“Oh my God, I’m a jackass. Of course you were. I’m so sorry.”

”Nah, you were right to worry. I get it.”

“Are you okay?”

”Yeah, Cas stayed with me, and security is right outside the door. ‘M fine.”

Charlie let out an audible sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Did they catch him?”

”Knowing him? Probably not. We’re at sea all day today and docking tomorrow. Hopefully, they’ll find him by then. There are only so many places he can hide.” Dean believed none of what he was saying. Deep down, he knew that as long as Alastair was alive, he’d keep coming after Dean. He’d never be safe, and he’d never be able to keep Cas safe. He needed Charlie to think he believed it, though. If she knew how panicked he really was, he wasn’t sure she’d be willing to do what he asked next.

”Red, I need you to do something for me.” He made his tone dead serious because he was.

”Anything.”

”Poughkeepsie.”

”Dean, no.” The quiver in her voice was obvious, and it was easy for him to picture her shaking her head back and forth in refusal.

”Charlie, yes. We made a deal. I’m sure everything is fine,” he wasn’t, not even a little. “It’s just a precaution. I’ll rest easier knowing you’re safe. I’m calling Crowley next.”

”You just said security was going to get him.”

”And they will. But just in case, do this for me so I don’t worry.”

When Alastair had him chained up, he would beat Dean and leave him alone in the cold basement for hours. Every time he came back, it was with a collection of photos of Charlie taken that day. With an estranged brother he had never spoken about, she was the closest thing Dean had to family. Alastair used that knowledge to threaten him. If he didn’t comply, if he didn’t obey, he was quite clear that he’d kill Dean and take Charlie next.

She’s not my type, Pet. But if you don’t obey, then I’ll have to make do, won’t I?

Alastair’s words haunted his memory five years later. Dean didn’t stop from protecting her then, and he wouldn’t now.

Poughkeepsie was the result of Dean’s intention to always keep his best friend safe. There was a large sum of money in a safe deposit box that only he and Charlie had the keys to. If Dean so directed, Charlie was to grab the money and go directly to Crowley, who would help her disappear. The crafty lawyer had just enough sneakiness about him that Dean knew he had his own sufficient resources to stay safe. This service was prepaid in the healthy retainer that Dean had paid him originally. He’d keep her from harm.

The police said Alastair was dead, but he never felt at ease about it. His psychiatrist chalked it up to hyper vigilance second to PTSD, but now Dean knew that the fucker had been alive the whole time. Like there was a sick connection between them.

The deal was that if Dean called and used the code word like he just did, Charlie was supposed to leave as agreed, no questions asked. But if Dean disappeared for more than 24 hours, then Charlie was just supposed to get the money and go to Crowley.

Dean vowed that he was never going to live through hell like that again. He resolved that if he ever found himself in another nightmare situation, he’d find a way to die sooner rather than later. By his hand or theirs, it didn’t matter. He wanted out, but only after he knew Charlie was safe.

“Dean,” she was not happy, he could hear it in her voice. “Please don’t ask me to do this.”

”I don’t have time to argue, Charlie. We made a deal and I’m asking you to honour it.” He wasn’t beyond some emotional manipulation. “For me?”

”Fine,” she capitulated. “But here’s my counter offer. The ship docks tomorrow. If I don’t hear from you saying that Alastair’s been caught by the time you reach port, I’ll go, okay?”

That was more than he originally hoped she’d agree to, so he took it.

“Deal.”

They disconnected shortly thereafter and Dean made the call to Crowley next. His lawyer was much easier to persuade and, as expected, assured Dean he would take care of Charlie and be fine himself.

”I’ve got friends in low places, Dean. Charlie will be fine, as will I.” In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, the Brit added, “For what it’s worth, you’re one of my favorite people and I do hope you return safely.”

”Same, Crowley. Same.”

Work done, Dean went back to bed and managed to insert himself back into the circle of Cas’ arms like he’d never left. The important things were taken care of. Dean let himself bask in the warmth of Castiel’s body surrounding him. If Alastair got him again, if this, right now, was all he’d get, then he was going to savour it.

****

Forgoing his own pleasure yesterday to make Dean feel treasured was worth it. He’d planned to take care of himself last night, but with the events of the day, the desire to do so left along with the opportunity. Dean was what was important.

So, having the most vivid sex dream of his life wasn’t a surprise. Between neglected passion and a night spent with Dean in his arms, it was no wonder that Castiel awoke from a dream so vivid that he was a hair's breadth away from coming.

The imagined sensation of a hot mouth wrapped around his cock was so good that he found himself rutting into it. He drifted toward consciousness, but his dream state refused to let go. Dream Dean moaned around his shaft and and sucked so hard that Castiel bucked up hard and came into the imaginary mouth. He didn’t care about the mess; pulses of pleasure ripped through his body.

Crying out, he reached for Dean. Even if it was just a dream, holding his love would make it feel real. Dean was his, finally, and he planned to never let go. Except he wasn’t there.

”Mornin’ Sunshine,” Dean said in a husky voice that came from the vicinity of somewhere lower in the bed. Castiel realized that his arms were empty because he hadn’t been dreaming. Dean had just given him the blow job of his life.

“Fuck,” was the only think he was coherent enough to say. His brain had just been sucked out of his dick by the person he loved most in the world and he wasn’t capable of speech.

”That good?” Dean chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shimmied up the bed, into Cas’ arms, and kissed him. Castiel could taste himself on Dean’s lips, and it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. He kissed Dean back with enthusiasm, putting everything he felt into it.

“I love you,” he said as soon as his brain came back online. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m never letting you go.”

”Noted,” Dean kissed him lightly before moving to get out of bed. Conflicting emotions showed on his face, and Castiel chose not to press it. Dean had already been through a lot, and today would probably be trying as well. “Coffee? A suite as fancy as this has to have some.”

Thankfully, there was coffee in the partially stocked galley. By the time Castiel joined Dean, there was a fresh pot as well as room service on the way. They pretended that everything was normal and took their coffee on the large private patio. When the food arrived, they ate in the sunshine while Dean waxed philosophical by insisting that everything tasted better when eaten outside.

On a less terrifying day, Castiel would have made that an invitation to taste something other than food, but it wasn’t the time or place. Once he got Dean away from the ship and Alastair safely, he could work on forever.

Crowley called Dean just after breakfast. The Brit must be charging Dean a lot of money to have him up in the middle of the night back in his time zone. He was good at his job, though, because he’d already spoken with the con organizers and arranged for Dean to spend this last day in the suite under protection, without losing any of his pay for the event.

Castiel was relieved. Today was mainly meet and greets and a closing panel. After yesterday, and assuming Alastair was still at large since no one had told them otherwise, the last place he wanted to see his boyfriend was mingling in public.

”You stay, rest, take a nap, do whatever. I’ll finish the con and come right back here to you. Then we can discuss tomorrow and how you’re coming home with me.”

“I can’t come home with you, Cas. You don’t need me underfoot.”

”Then, fine, I’m coming home with you. I honestly don’t care who goes where just so long as we’re together.” Castiel was dead serious in his proclamation even if Dean scoffed in disbelief. “No. I’m serious. I almost lost you and didn’t even know it. Never again.” He threaded a hand through the hair at the back of Dean’s head and pulled him into a kiss that was made rough by its urgency. Dean had to understand that he was serious. Breaking, he leaned his forehead against Dean’s, both of them a little breathless. “Never. Again. Are we clear?”

”Clear,” Dean answered, hoarse from emotion. He nodded and repeated. “Crystal clear.”

”Good.”

Castiel had an early morning photo op in character that he needed to get through. The proceeds went to charity, and even if he wanted to, Castiel would never back out on that. Any chance he had to make the world a little better was once he was going to take.

A guard showed up to walk him to the photo area. A second guard stayed, posted at the door for Dean’s protection. He might have felt uneasy about leaving Dean behind, but he left knowing he was going to be safe. The guard confirmed that Alastair was still at large, and any argument Dean had prepared about staying back in the suite went unspoken. Castiel kissed him goodbye with a promise to return between events and message when he couldn’t, and left.

The photo shoot went very well. There was a line up of fans who wanted to take a picture with him wearing his character’s baggy trenchcoat, looking like he was solving some supernatural crime. The only crime he wanted to be solving was the one where they caught Alastair, but that wasn’t the task at hand. The fans were happy, though, each one seeming to be delighted to be there with him.

Things ran a little late. He’d hoped to have enough time to go back to the suite to see Dean before the meet and greet, but it wasn’t meant to be. The handler gave him fifteen minutes to hit the washroom and have some water before he was on duty again. Knowing that the staff areas were already secure, he left his handler in search of the toilets.

The corridor in the designated area was quieter than he expected, but then again, everyone was probably hanging out in the green room. There was a washroom there, but he didn’t want to be fielding their colleagues’ questions about yesterday, about Alastair, and what it had to do with Dean.

There was a separate, private bathroom a little further up the hall, and that was where he was going to go. He kept moving at a quick pace, focused only on finding the men’s toilet. By the time he registered that he was alone after all, it was too late. A firm hand was placed over his mouth, pulling in a way that exposed his neck on one side. He felt the sharp sting, the jab of a needle piercing his flesh. Everything started to blur, and Castiel felt his knees buckle.

Then everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

The photo shoot had to be over even if it had run long. Cas hadn’t come back or even messaged. Knowing his boyfriend, there was no way he wouldn’t just leave Dean to worry and stress. Not with a threat like Alastair on the loose.

He texted Cas a half dozen times in just as many minutes trying to get a response. His mind ran in circles thinking about all of the terrible things that could be happening. Some of Dean’s worst scarred body parts ached with phantom pain, like the physical memory of his suffering was trapped in his muscle and bone.

When he couldn’t take it any longer, he opened the door and demanded to be taken to the convention. Not only did the guard refuse, but a second guard had joined him at some point after Cas left that morning. Alarm bells in his head started clanging, he needed to find Cas now. They didn’t understand what was at stake, what Alastair could, and would do.

Dean tried to force his way past them but they might well have been brick walls for all of the luck he had getting through. Pissed off and frightened for Cas, he finally relented and went back inside the suite. He was determined to find a way.

He was pacing when the first message came through. His phone dinged, and the number on the screen was one he didn’t recognize. Dean opened the message app to see a photo of the black candle, burning.

It had to be Alastair. Dean was about to call the number when the second photo came through. It was the blade of a knife he knew all too well. It was being held in the candle flame, heating the metal so it would cut and burn at the same time.

An invitation to a video call followed in rapid succession, and Dean accepted right away. It was Cas, shirtless and tied to a chair. The room looked familiar. He was barely conscious—it was clear he’d been drugged. The video feed caught Alastair's other hand grabbing Castiel’s hair and tugging his head to one side, exposing his neck.

”You better hurry, Pet. I don’t think he’ll last anywhere near as long as you did. But I look forward to seeing him try.”

”Dean,” a groggy Cas whispered on screen. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“Cas!” Dean felt like he was going to vomit. He knew what was going to happen next. “Alastair, you son of a bitch, don’t touch him. I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you hurt him.”

”Now, Pet, that’s no way to speak to your master, is it? You’ll need to do penance for that. You need to do penance for a lot of things.” Alastair was getting off on the power trip; Dean could hear it in his voice. Years of therapy were quickly unravelling in the wake of it. “If he’s got any hope of getting out of here in one piece, it’ll be because you came back to me of your own free will.”

The hand holding Cas’ hair briefly disappeared, returning with the knife from the photo. The blade was pressed against his neck, and Cas grunted from the pain of the hot blade on his skin.

”So, which will it be? Your life, or his life and then yours? Either way, you’re going to end up back with me where you belong. Think about it. You don’t have long.”

The call abruptly ended leaving Dean alone with his feelings of raw terror. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and forget everything. But Cas needed him. He needed him right now.

Where was he? Dean racked his brain trying to figure out why the room looked familiar. Cas was sitting on a chair. There had been no other furniture in the video, but there was a photo on the wall that looked vaguely familiar. Dean racked his brain trying to figure out where it was from.

Of course. The photo was of the endless blue sky and pink sand of a Bermuda beach. They were in Dean’s old suite, which in retrospect seemed obvious because he knew Alastair had been in there already. He hurried to the door to tell security.

”Alastair just called me. He has Cas, and they’re in my old suite. We have to go there right now.”

To Dean’s frustration, the guard wouldn’t agree to go. He spouted what Dean thought was crap about being the primary concern and not risking his wellbeing. He did agree to call the head of security to come and talk to Dean which pissed him off because he felt like he as being placated, not taken seriously.

It would take at least twenty minutes for anyone to arrive, and Cas didn’t have that kind of time. He slammed the door shut, letting the guard think whatever he wanted, and ran to the only other exit.

This suite was directly over his and Cas’ previous suites, which meant that the balconies were stacked too. With luck, he could shimmy down and gain entrance to either Dean's suite, where they were, or Cas’ where he could try to get to his old suite that way.

It had to work. Cas needed him. Dean hurried outside and over to the balcony railing. It was a long way down to the water if he slipped. Thankfully, it looked like the balcony he was on was built recessed just enough to drop down onto the deck below.

Here goes nothing, he thought while swinging his body up and over the edge. Some of his thicker scars stretched and pulled with the awkward movement, but Dean focused more on a safe landing. He lowered himself as low as he could go and dropped to the deck. He barely made more noise than a soft thunk, meaning he might have the element of surprise.

The patio door was open. Trying to be stealthy, Dean rushed to the bedroom where he’d seen Cas on video. He was there, still tied to the chair, head lolled to one side with a thin stream of blood running from his neck where Alastair had cut the flesh just enough to bleed, but not enough to bleed out. Dean was familiar with this method: shallow cuts to terrify his victim at first, then enough of them to keep his victim weak. After that, he moved on to pain and disfigurement. It was how Alastair managed to torture him yet keep him alive for weeks.

Black wax was splashed on Cas’ chest. Like the cut on his neck, it was Alastair's idea of a playful appetizer. The layer was thin and splattered like it had been tossed from a distance, meaning it might have stung, but it didn’t burn the skin. The room was heavy with the scent of fucking roses though and Dean was tempted to vomit. Cas was hurt, and it was his fault. This was exactly why he’d stayed a recluse these past five years. Even when he thought Alastair was dead, Dean knew he was poison to the people he loved.

Cas’ ankles were lashed to the legs of the chair. Dean knelt in front of him to make quick work of untying the knots to get him out of here. He knew Alastair was in the suite, and it was only a matter of time before he was discovered. He hoped that Alastair was waiting by the door, expecting him to come that way, begging to trade his life for Cas’. He would if it came to it. Anything to save Cas.

With the legs freed, Dean moved to the bag and started working on the knots that kept Cas tied to the chair itself. He was pulling them free when his luck ran out.

Clap, clap, clap.

Hope died in his chest. The odds hadn’t been great, and Dean knew he’d been fooling himself, but he’d still clung to it.

”Look at you, Pet. You didn’t waste any time racing to save your boyfriend, did you? I knew he’d bring you back to me.”

”Yeah, well, I’m here,” Dean scrambled to keep Alastair’s attention. He surreptitiously pulled the ropes once more, undoing them so Cas would be free with a tug when he came to. Dean hoped that from Alastair's vantage, Castiel looked like he was still tied up. He stood and stepped away while talking to keep up the distraction. “It’s what you wanted. So you can take me and let him go.”

”Now, now, we both know I was never going to let that happen, didn’t we?” Alastair’s eyes were fixated on Dean, who inched toward the door, mentally aiming for the room and balcony beyond. All he had to do was get the predator to follow. “It was an unexpected surprise to discover that his fear and outrage are almost as delicious as yours. I think I’m keeping you both.”

Terror ran down his spine. He knew going in that he probably wasn’t going to make it out. But not Cas. Cas was innocent of all of this. Dean couldn't let that happen.

”I’ll do anything, go anywhere with you. Just let him go.” Dean could almost hear an imaginary dungeon door slam shut, sealing his fate. It was worth it, though. “I’ll help you get off the ship—I’ll go with you, anywhere. Just please let Cas go. I’m begging you.”

Somehow, he’d managed to manoeuvre himself into the doorway with Alastair turning his back to Cas to focus on Dean.

”I like it when you beg, Pet. It’s been too long.” He licked his lips like Dean was a tasty morsel he planned to consume. He probably was. “Show me.”

This was his chance. His only chance to save Cas. He was going to lure Alastair to the balcony and somehow jump while pulling them both over. Castiel would wake up alone, but he’d be safe. There was no time to think about his regrets. It had to be now.

”Sir,” Dean said, curling his posture inward the way he knew Alastair approved. He nodded to the balcony. “Can it be outside in the sun? I want to show the world how beautiful you made me.” Bile churned in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. He’d played this role before to survive, he could play it again for Castiel.

”Pretty words from my pretty plaything.” His smile was predatory, but his eyes were cold. “Crawl.”

Dean dropped to his hands and knees. Alastair stared at him like he was hungry, but at least Cas had been forgotten. He put his head down like he was the submissive pet he was expected to be and crawled to the balcony, sitting on his haunches when he got close to the railing. The other man followed closely, grabbing Dean by the hair and yanking it hard.

”Strip.”

With shaking hands, he unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. Then he pulled it off and tossed it to the side. For the first time in five years, Dean felt the sun on his torso. He knew what Alastair was seeing: old cuts and leathered burn scars. Dean shifted so the brand was visible, shining in the sun. Alastair couldn't resist the lure of his handiwork; he inched closer with his hand reaching toward the scarred flesh.

It was now or never. He undid his belt and pulled it out of the loops, pretending like it was a show for Alastair's eyes only. When it pulled free, Dean grabbed the second end and lunged, wrapping it around Alastair’s neck and pushing with all of his weight toward the railing.

Alastair scrambled and grabbed for Dean, which was what he’d expected, except Dean had no intention of not going over the railing himself. Between gravity and his forward momentum, the two of them balanced on the bar for two seconds before a shocked Alastair started to tip backward and over the edge while frantically gripping Dean.

Dean closed his eyes. This was it, and Alastair was not going to be the last thing he saw. He pictured Cas and smiled, knowing that he was safe, that Dean had saved him.

There was a brief moment of weightlessness as they tipped over, waiting for gravity to take hold. Out of nowhere, Dean felt a strong yank on the back of his pants. It was jarring enough that it broke Alastair’s grip. He flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to grasp anything to stop the pending fall.

Dean was still moving with enough backward momentum that the belt pulled taught and then slipped from his hands. It was still wrapped around Alastair, who was staring at him in disbelief as he started to accelerate in his fall to the ocean.

Strong arms wrapped around Dean from behind.

“I got you,” Cas said. His voice was thick with emotion. Dean leaned into the embrace.

Time seemed to slow as they watched Alastair fall into the water below. It had to be over this time. If the fall and force of hitting the water didn’t kill him, surely he’d drown when the ship left him behind. As it was, his movements in the water seemed slow and jerky, like he wasn’t a strong swimmer.

”Should we tell someone?” Dean hoped to God that Cas would say no.

“There’s no point, look.” Castiel pointed just off to the side of where Alaistair was trying to swim toward the ship. A lone fin sliced through the water, heading directly towards the flailing movements. At the last second, it disappeared below the surface.

Alastair had no warning since the shark had come from behind. One minute he was swimming, the next he was being pulled underwater. After a few seconds, he bobbed back up, screaming loud enough to get the attention of other cruise goers on lower decks. A bloom of red saturated the water around him.

The fin broke water again and circled Alastair, whose desperate paddling had coloured the sea red in every direction. He’d probably bleed out in minutes. It reminded Dean of nature documentaries where scientists would chum the water to attract sharks who would race at the slightest whiff of blood to take part in a feeding frenzy.

As if his thoughts conjured them, several other fins appeared, converging on Alastair. He had barely a second to scream before the ocean was churned up into a frothy pink display of sharks fighting over a meal. Within seconds Dean couldn’t even see the man anymore, only a school of snapping jaws and writhing bodies fighting over chunks of meat.

Dean vomited over the railing. When he was done, Cas folded him into his arms and away from the sight of the bloody water.

”You’re free now,” he spoke low in Dean’s ear. He burrowed closer into the embrace as reality set in and he started to shake.

“It’s over.”

***

Six months later

”You can’t take that one.” Castiel had spent more time than he wanted to fussing over which clothes he was bringing to the convention that weekend. He didn’t appreciate Dean reaching into his suitcase and pulling them back out.

”Yes,” he took the shirt from Dean and put it back in the bag. “I can.”

”It’s my shirt and I wore it to the last one. There are a ton of photo ops online with me wearing it.” He took it out of the bag again. “People will notice and think we are sharing clothes. Then, they’ll start spreading rumors about us being together.”

”We are together and we do share clothes, Dean.” It hurt to think that Dean didn’t want fans to know they were dating. It came out with an edge to his voice. “Why can’t people know? Do I embarrass you?”

”What? No, Cas. I love you. Of course, I’m proud to be with you.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say his feelings were hurt every time it happened.

They had been together since the reunion cruise. When it happened, the authorities and media were so focused on Alastair’s death that their relationship was overlooked. At the time, they viewed it as a blessing. They'd been able to go home and learn how to be together as a couple without anyone watching. Dean had a lot of fear and insecurities in the beginning. Cas had patiently loved him through all of them.

Dean was his, he was Dean’s, and he was ready for the world to know. It was hard waiting for his boyfriend to get on the same page. It would be worth it in the end, but it felt like it was taking forever.

”I know,” he let Dean have the shirt. “I just want everyone to know how happy I am, and that you’re the reason.”

There was an old showbiz adage that said all press was good press. It held true for the convention company as well as the cast of Spooky Files. News of Alastair’s behaviour at the convention, the kidnapping, and his horrific death made waves around the industry as well as the fans. Demand for more events related to the show saw the creation of a travelling convention circuit that planned to welcome fans eight times in the first year.

The pay for attending as talent was enough to have most of the cast sign on. Some of the actors were making more money at the events than they ever made on the show itself. Tickets were selling out in almost every city where there were long days of panels and photo ops. The crux of which was causing their current argument.

”I’m happy too, sweetheart.” Dean hesitated and then placed the shirt back in the suitcase. Turning to Cas, he kissed him gently before placing their foreheads together. “And I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t be treating you like you’re a secret I’m ashamed of. I’m not. I’m proud of us, I just wasn’t ready to share it yet.”

Their castmates had backed them all the way on their decision to play it discreetly up to now. Benny and Garth had been a huge support, telling everyone how good it had been for their relationship to be able to come out on their own terms.

”Dean, I know that’s not what’s going on here. You’ve been through a lot, and I get needing the time to heal.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve given it enough. You deserve more than I’ve been giving you, and if you’re ready, then I’m ready. Take the shirt.”

”But you’re right, people will talk.”

“Let them.” Dean’s smile chased away any concerns he might have had. He was serious. “Here,” he took off the leather bracelet he wore everywhere and put it on Castiel’s wrist. It would already be in hundreds of pictures online, so the subliminal messaging would be obvious. “I want you to wear this too.”

Dean kissed him again, but this time it was lighter and full of promise. Cas felt his heart swell with affection.

“If we do this, there’s no going back.” He loved Dean, God, how he loved him. Every time Castiel thought about how close he’d come to losing the opportunity to have this, he was overwhelmed with gratitude. He’d do anything to keep his love happy.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”