Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8342149.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Castiel, Sam_Winchester, Benny_Lafitte, Donna_Hanscum,
      Cassie_Robinson
  Additional Tags:
      ghost!cas, nope_still_not_a_happy_ending_sorry_guys, dream-sharing,
      Depression, Thoughts_of_Self-harm, dean/others_-_Freeform, Minor_Cassie
      Robinson/Dean_Winchester, Age_Difference, Masturbation, Dildos, Dry
      Humping, bottom!Dean, Top!Cas, Underage_Drinking
  Series:
      Part 3 of responsibility,_love,_determination_&_death
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-10-21 Words: 6458
****** alone ******
by jhoom
Summary
     Dean struggles to cope with Cas’ disappearance. It takes time, but he
     eventually manages to come to deal with the feeling of being utterly
     alone.
Notes
     okay so this turned out longer than i expected. seriously... the
     outline for this chapter was 729 words and somehow this ended up
     eight times as long jfc. i'm back in dean's pov and will probably
     stay there for the next (and final!) installment. this picks up right
     where part one left off with dean having no clue what happened to
     cas. note that we're still not at a happy end for this story yet...
     if you're worried about the MCD and underage tags, check the end
     notes for spoilers/explanation.
     come visit me on tumblr - i've been told i'm nice ;)
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean’s life is like a waking nightmare.
Even if Cas hadn’t left him that note, he’d have known.  That ‘tether’ that Cas
told him about, the one thing keeping him on Earth, is gone.  Dean feels it, or
rather its absence, every moment of every day.  This piece of him that’s
missing, something that seemed so small until it wasn’t here anymore.  Only now
that it’s gone, it’s this huge, massive gaping hole that threatens to break
him.
At least when he’s asleep, his mind lets him pretend things are okay.  That
they’re the way they’ve always been.  But the moment he opens his eyes, the
ache in his heart returns.  It’s all he can think about, all he can feel.
 Every day all day.  
And unlike his friend being a ghost, it’s not something he can keep from
people.  Happiness, though contagious, isn’t as much of a curiosity.  Deep,
profound sadness radiates off a person and contaminates everything it touches.
 Dean’s is so thick it settles on the room like dust, covering everything it
touches.
He does his best to function and move on with his life, but he’s generally
pretty fucking sad and can’t quite bring himself out of it.  He cries himself
to sleep most nights.  He lacks the energy to care about his studies and his
grades suffer for it.  He stops hanging out with his friends, rarely answers
their texts.  He’s so distracted that he keeps losing his matches and almost
gets kicked off the team.
There’s enough falling apart around him that his friends and family take
notice.  Of course they do.  They whispers words like ‘depressed’ and
‘floundering’ behind his back, then try to give him reassuring smiles when they
catch his eye.  His parents wait a whole two months before they sit him down to
talk about it.
“Dean, honey, we’re worried about you.”  
“Yeah,” he agrees.  He’s a little worried too.  Not so much about himself, not
really, but he feels bad at the obvious strain he’s putting on his parents.  
John and Mary share a look.  “Did something happen at school?  How are things
with Lisa?”
He shrugs.  “Nothing happened.  Lisa’s good.”  That’s not quite a lie.  Lisa’s
being extremely patient with him, knowing that he’s hurting (even though she’s
as clueless as everyone else about why), but he doesn’t know how long that’ll
last.  And while school’s a mess, it’s really more of a symptom of the real
problem.
John sighs and leans forward to lean on his knees.  “Son, we’re kind of at a
loss here.  We haven’t seen you this bad since Castiel died-” (neither parent
notices how he winces at the mention of that name) “-and even that didn’t last
this long.  We just… we know you’re hurtin’, but we don’t know what’s caused it
or how to fix it.”
“Your father and I have been talking about it, and we’re just not sure how to
help you.  But we thought…  Well, we thought maybe we could find you a
counselor to talk to-”
“No!” he shouts.  It’s the first time in weeks that he’s shown anything close
to interest in something, and his parents are visibly shocked by the outburst.
“Dean-”
“I’ll do better,” he pleads.  “I’ll get my grades up… I’ll… I’ll win my next
match, I’ll hang out with Benny and Garth this weekend but please please don’t
make me talk to someone.”
John chews his bottom lip and looks to Mary, concern evident on their faces.
 “Dean…”
“I’ll do better,” he says firmly.  
“Okay…” Mary hedges.  “We’ll give you some time to get back on your feet.”
Dean mutters a “thank you” before bolting up the stairs to his room.  Once
safely behind closed doors, he slumps against the wall and lets out a choked
sob.  Panic building in his chest, he concentrates all his energy on breathing.
 In and out.  In and out.  Calm down.  It’s okay.  
That night he has a nightmare.  A kind man listening to him talk about Cas,
hmm-ing and uh-huh-ing in understanding before telling him he’s crazy.  There’s
no such things as ghosts.  He imagined the whole thing.  
None of that is what has him clutching the blankets and waking up dripped in
sweat.  No.  It’s the end of the dream, the part where he started nodding along
to the man’s words.  
The part where he started to believe him.
- - - -
He promised he’d try to get better.
He doesn’t.
- - - -
Dean’s on his bed, staring blindly at his Led Zeppelin poster, when he hears a
gentle knock on the door.  He grunts something unintelligible, not sure if he
means to invite the intruder in or dismiss them, but the door opens anyway.
“Heya Dean.”
He spares his brother a look before turning back to the poster.  “Sup Sammy?”
“I uh…”  His younger brother fidgets nervously before grabbing the desk chair
and putting it right in Dean’s line of sight.  Smart kid, because Dean sure as
hell doesn’t have the energy to roll over and turn away.  “I thought maybe… we
could talk?”
He gives a half shrug.  As long as Sam’s ready to do most of the talking,
Dean’s not exactly opposed to listening.  Hell, he’s even a bit curious what
the kid has to say.  
“So… I don’t really know how to say this so I guess I should just say it.”  The
ten year old seems so serious as he folds his hands together and gives Dean a
measured look.  “I know about Cas.”
If he were standing, he’s pretty sure he would’ve fallen over because his whole
world just slipped out from underneath him.  Cas.  Sam knows about Cas.  What-
what could that possibly mean?  A dangerous tendril of hope starts to burn
bright and he does his best to quash it.  
He has no idea what shows on his face in that moment, but it must alarm Sam
because he goes pale and quickly stammers, “I mean, I don’t… I know something
about Cas.  I think.  I… Oh man, I really didn’t think this through.  I- I-
 Shit.”
Given that his brother thinks shit is the worst curse word in the world, the
little speech sobbers Dean considerably.  With a sigh, he sits up and swings
his legs around the edge of the bed.  Once he’s actually facing Sam, he looks
the kid in the eyes and asks, “What exactly do you think you know about Cas?”
 Before Sam can stammer anymore, he holds up a hand and reassures him, “Dude,
it’s fine.  Just tell me.  I’m not upset or anything.”
At least not about this.
“O-okay.  I uh.”  Sam takes a grounding breath before continuing.  “I know
about Cas.  Like… at least, I know you used to talk to Cas a lot.  Ever since
he… Yeah.  I could hear you, in your room sometimes, talking to him.  And I
kinda assumed that was how you got over his d-death.”  Sam nearly trips over
the word but recovers quickly.  “And like, it’s not like I know what that was
about.  I don’t know if you were praying to him or whatever or he was an
imaginary friend, but I… I mean, I kinda noticed you stopped talking to him
around the time you started… Getting all sad.  I guess I do hear it sometimes,
but it’s usually really late at night and I think it’s only when you’re asleep
so…”
Sam coughs awkwardly and looks at his feet for a second.  “If it was an
imaginary friend or something, I hope you didn’t just give up on it because you
feel like you’re too old or something.  If it’s something you need, you should
keep doing it.”
Dean’s pretty sure his eyes are brimming with tears.  It kills him to know that
his little brother’s been so worried about him.  Yeah his parents have been
too, but they’re his parents.  It’s their job.  Sam’s just a kid, he shouldn’t
have to put his energy into this.  Dean makes a mental note to get himself back
on track if for no other reason than for Sam’s sake.
Rubbing a hand through his hair, he makes the decision to be up front with Sam.
 He feels bad about stressing the kid out and there’s a small part of him who
thinks it’ll help him to talk about this with someone.  
“You’re uh… You’re not wrong.”
His brother tenses up before look so relieved it makes Dean flinch in guilt.
 “This is gonna sound crazy but I swear, I swear it’s the truth.  The night
after Cas’ funeral, he uh…  Well, he came back.  As a ghost.”  
Dean holds his breath as he waits for Sam to react.  As the silence drags out,
his already strained nerves start to fray even more.  What if Sam doesn’t
believe him?  Or tells their parents?  
But as always when Dean underestimates his brother, Sam proves he’s way more
mature than Dean anticipated.  “Okay.”  And just like that, he accepts it.  “So
what happened?  If he was a ghost and here, what changed?”
“You want the long answer or the short answer?” Dean grumbled.
“Whichever one you wanna tell me.”
The long answer is… complicated.  He hasn’t let himself think about it too
much.  That last dream and shared final moment, the note and the giant hole in
his heart once he realized what had happened.  
Short answer it is then.
“He said he was gonna move on.  I haven’t seen him since.”
“Move on, like-”
“Heaven, I assume.  Or whatever happens next.”
Sam looks like he’s very carefully choosing his words.  “He didn’t say good-
bye, did he.”  Not a question.  Damn kid’s too smart.
“He did, in a way.”  
Cas’ face as he moves above Dean, as he comes.  Whispered promises of “I love
you” before disappearing from his life-  
He shakes his head to dispel the memories.  “He just… I wish he’d talked to me
about it.”  There’s more he wants to say, but he can’t think of a way to get it
off his chest without sounding selfish.  Wanting Cas to stay with him instead
of moving on…  It seems so selfish when he thinks about it.
“Dean, I know this is going to sound really silly, but my guidance counselor
said it to me when I was getting into those fights with Dirk at school, and it
kinda helped.  So uh, if you’re upset that Cas left without talking to you
about it, you’re allowed to be upset about it.  You’re allowed to feel however
you feel about all of it.
“But what’s not okay is how you act on it.”  It almost sounds like Sam’s
repeating a practiced speech, but he clearly believes in what he’s saying.
 “You’re sad you lost your friend, but you can’t let that stop you from living
your life.  You can mourn him, but you gotta respect that he’d want you to be
happy.  If it’s too hard to be happy for yourself, you should try to do it for
him.  And for me.  And Mom and Dad and all your friends.”
“Ugh, quit it.”  He half-heartedly throws his pillow at his brother before
collapsing back onto the bed.  “I know, alright?  I’ll get there.”
“Okay,” Sam says quietly.  “You should try talking about it though.  Maybe
it’ll help.”
He lifts his head to glare at Sam.  “I ain’t talkin’ to no shrink about this
shit.”
“So don’t.”  Slightly appeased, he lets his head fall back onto his bed.  “You
could talk to me.”  He ignores Dean’s snort and suggests, “Or you could talk to
Cas-”
“What?”  He snaps back up, his body a rigid line as he glares at his brother.
Sam wilts a little before squaring his shoulders to explain himself.  “If he
moved on to Heaven or whatever, maybe you could try praying to him?  Even if
you never find out if he can hear you, I think it’d be good for you.”
Dean opens his mouth to snap out something sarcastic, but he stops himself.
 The kid has a point.  It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s certainly better
than holding it all in and driving himself deeper into this black pit of
despair.  Soon he won’t be able to pull himself out even if he wants to.
He once again finds himself promising that he’ll do better, but this time with
a plan to try and make good on it.
- - - -
It’s strange, talking to an empty room.  He knows that technically he’s been
doing it for years now, at least as far as anyone looking in is concerned.  But
that night he forces himself to try, to whisper into his pillow everything he
wants to tell Cas.
Well, maybe not everything.
He starts simple, telling Cas about his day and everything he’s missed since he
left.  There’s admittedly not much, at least not much that Dean’s paid
attention to.  At the end, with sleep blurring the edges of his vision, he
sighs and tells Cas he misses him.  
A small piece of the burden he’s been carrying disappears.
So he does it again the next evening, and the next.  Talks about school and how
he’s doing better.  That he wishes he still had Cas’ help on homework because
they’re doing Shakespeare and Dean just doesn’t get Shakespeare.  Or maybe
about wrestling or the ways he slowly integrates himself back into his circle
of friends.  But each time, without fail, he ends his prayer by letting Cas
know he misses him.
Sometimes, as he’s babbling to himself in the loneliness of his room, he feels
a tug at his navel.  A barely there twitch before it settles into nothing.  A
thin tendril of something that he can’t help but associate with Cas.  He
doesn’t address it, not consciously at least, but there’s a part of him that
hopes so fiercely that it might mean Cas is listening, wherever he is.  
(In dark moments, he tells himself he’s imagining it.  Reminds himself bitterly
that Cas is completely gone and permanently out of reach.  That he lied about
loving or caring about Dean at all.  Why else would he have left?  Why else
would he have left the way he did?)
(One night these thoughts drive him over the edge.  He breaks into his dad’s
liquor cabinet one night and gets drunk off two shots of whiskey.  Sam finds
him blubbering to himself in the bathroom as he eyes a razor.  The poor kid
freaks out but manages to stay calm enough to coax Dean into his room to talk.
 He spends the night curled up on the foot of Sam’s bed, bawling his eyes out.)
(”Sammy, I miss him so much.  I wish I didn’t drive him away.  I wish I wasn’t
such a shitty friend he felt he had to leave me.”)
(“I wish I could see him one last time.”)
The talking helps more than it hurts, though.  So he keeps at it.
- - - -
Once his life’s more stable, he starts taking a good hard look at it.  He does
his best to ‘declutter’ it of the things that hurt.  
He drops down to a lower level English class for starters, something his
parents raise their eyebrows at but reluctantly allow.  It’s not that he
doesn’t like reading.  Hell, he loves reading.  But that more than anything
else was something he shared with Cas.  They’d stay up late discussing whatever
novel Cas had just read at the library or whatever play his teachers assigned.
 
The next part is harder.  In the few moments he’s really honest with himself,
he knows the real reason Cas’ departure is hitting him so hard.  So when he
thanks Lisa for being patient with him and she hints that she might be falling
in love with him, he panics.  He breaks up with her, doing his best to explain
that he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to reciprocate those feelings
and it isn’t fair to her.  
The break-up causes a temporary schism in their group of friends, but it’s such
a relief to Dean that he can’t really bring himself to feel guilty about it.
(”I heard you broke up with Lisa.”
Dean looks at his brother over his cereal.  “I did.”
“How come?  I thought you liked her.”
“I did.  I do.”  He looks to make sure their parents are out of earshot, but
they’re both upstairs getting ready for work.  “But I’m in love with someone
else.”
Sam waits expectantly for more more information.  All Dean does is stare at
him, willing him to get it so he doesn’t have to say it.  Because it’s pathetic
enough as is, it’s somehow so much worse saying it out loud.  Finally Sam’s
eyes go wide.  “Oh.  Oh.  You mean-”
“Yes,” he cuts in.  “Yeah, I mean him.”)
The last step of getting rid of the things that are simply to Cas, Dean clears
out his closet.  He gets rid of everything that’s even remotely blue because he
fucking hates that color.  Or more accurately, loves it but can’t stand the
sight of it.  Then he gets rid of a few other things.  Anything Cas ever said
looked good on him is a must go.  
Wardrobe sufficiently reduced to barely anything, Charlie’s all too happy to go
shopping with him to fill in the blanks.  
And in an attempt to add more of the good, in addition to wrestling he takes up
baseball.  He’s not great at it, but he’s good enough to make the JV team.
 Surrounding himself with more positive influences like the coach and his
teammates helps.  Benny’s on the team, too, and having his new best
friend someone who cares about him around helps a lot.
- - - -
Around the time he starts praying to Cas each night, the dreams start.  They’re
murky at first, unclear when he’s asleep and hard to piece together when he’s
awake.  The only thing that gets through is that Cas is in them.  It takes a
few months for him to really see him, though.
Cas is a boy again, younger than Dean’s seen him for a while.  Even with his
ghostly powers keeping him the same age except for thatdream but don’t think
about it do not think about it, the kid in his dreams is even younger.  Most of
the time Dean’s at the periphery, watching him play.  It’s oddly comforting,
seeing some version of Cas at peace (even if it is only in his own head).
Slowly he gains more control and starts joining Cas.  He finds himself
mirroring Cas’ young age, dream him shrunk down so they’re about the same size.
 The first time, he walks over and takes Cas by the hand, leading him on an
adventure through the woods.  
Cas looks at him funny, like he’s a stranger he can’t quite trust.  Dean rolls
his eyes as they walk further into the trees.  “C’mon Cas, it’s just me.  It’s
Dean.”
“Dean?”  A hint of recognition there makes Dean’s heart skip a beat.  His voice
isn’t as tinny and distant as he remembers it, and his eyes don’t glow in the
same ethereal way they did before.  But why should he be like the real Cas.
 It’s only a dream.  Cas squeezes Dean’s hand and smiles.  “Hello Dean.  Nice
to meet you.”
“Known me for forever, but okay.  Nice to meet you too, Cas.”
“Cas-?”  
But Dean cuts him off and continues their hike through the woods.  
The second time, Cas comes up to him and coyly grabs his hand.  “I want to
explore caves.”  So they do.  The third and fourth time, they meet mid dream,
their adventure for the night already laid out before them.  It’s not something
that happens every night, but it occurs with enough regularity that it helps
ease some of the ache in Dean’s heart.
- - - -
Between the dreams and his prayers, Dean gets himself back on his feet.  He’s
distinctly aware of the fact that he’s not normal.  Relying on these coping
mechanisms make him stand out in his own mind, even if no one save maybe Sam
knows about it.  
But let’s face it.  The first time he ever had sex, it was in a dream.  With a
ghost.  Honestly, when the hell was he ever ‘normal’?
His parents are pleased with his progress, so he pushes those worries aside.  
- - - -
As a side note, he notices that dream Cas gets older too.  He doesn’t catch up
to Dean, but by the time Dean graduates, he’s about caught up to his ghostly
self.  Dean’s dream self changes to reflect that.  (Or at least he assumes it
does, given that they’re always about eye level with each other.)  One of these
days, the kid might visibly outstrip Castiel’s actual development and become an
honest to god teenager.
It’s a strange thing, seeing Castiel change.  After all those years of him
being so firmly rooted in an 11 year old’s body, the idea of him aging confirms
in Dean’s mind his suspicion that this really is just a dream.  The real Cas is
gone and completely out of reach (save for the off chance that he hears Dean’s
prayers), and this isn’t him reaching out to communicate with him from… well,
from wherever it is ghosts go.
He’s not sure how he feels about it.
- - - -
After high school, Dean goes to a local college.  He studies and gets a part
time job and even dates a little.  Only girls, though.  Not that there aren’t a
couple guys that turn his head, but it feels weird to be with anyone but Cas
and weirder still to be with another guythat isn’t him.  So he sticks to girls,
casually flirting and sleeping with them.
He’s in college and a guy, so society gives him a pass for not looking for
anything serious.  Truth is, he can never get invested in a relationship no
matter how awesome the person.  Sure, he tries, because Cas would want him to
be happy.  But then he comes to the realization that being happy doesn’t
necessitate a long term relationship with someone.  If sleeping around is
enough to make him happy, then he shouldn’t feel pressured for more.  
Of course, there comes a day when sleeping around stops making him happy.
Cassie’s in his Physics class and they have such good chemistry together (har
har) that he can’t turn her down when she asks him out.  The first date ends
abruptly in the backseat of the Impala.  She’s on top of him, grinding down on
his still clothed erection and there’s just something about the moment.  Maybe
the position, maybe it’s that the starlight shining through the window behind
her, who the fuck knows.  But he’s vividly brought back to that fake homecoming
dance years ago that he comes embarrassingly quickly.
Worse yet is the choked out gasp of “Cas!” when he does it.
Lucky for him, Cassie doesn’t notice the slip up.  Thank god for that, but he
knows he fucked up.  He’s mortified by the whole thing, dropping Cassie off at
her dorm and kissing her goodnight before speeding away.  
He bangs his head against the shower wall as he cleans himself up.  That’s the
moment he decides to give up on the one night stands.  They’re no longer worth
it, not with the added fear that he’ll say the wrong name during sex, revealing
who he’s really longing for.  
- - - -
There are good days and bad days, but eventually he notices the good ones
outnumber the bad.  He still cries himself to sleep some nights.  Those are the
times he finds himself in the arms of dream Cas, whimpering and begging him to
still be there when he wakes up.  Dream Cas holds him close but doesn’t make
promises he can’t keep.
Once or twice he steals a kiss on those forlorn nights.  Chaste but sloppy
because of his runny nose and tear-soaked cheeks.  Cas may or may not kiss
back.  Dean doesn’t know because every time, he’ll jerk away too quickly to
find out.  He feels a deep shame for wanting something he can’t have, and it
forces him to stomp down the desperate want inside him.  
However dream Cas might feel about the whole thing, Dean doesn’t know.
 Whenever they next meet, they never bring it up.
- - - -
Dean graduates from college with a 4.0 and a dozen job offers.  All of which he
refuses, deciding to try his hand at grad school.  But damn if it isn’t hard
turning down 65k a year.  
There’s a week when all his college friends are still in town and a lot of his
high school friends are back in Lawrence.  Between the two groups, Dean gets
together a massive group to celebrate the end of their college careers.  They
eat and drink and catch up and all around have a great time.  They end up
closing out the Roadhouse, cut off from the bar at 2 and unceremoniously kicked
out at 3.
When he gets back to his dorm, he’s pleasantly buzzed and wants to continue the
good feeling he’s riding.  Which is of course how he finds himself on his
knees, leaning against his headboard with a hand fumbling with a bottle of
lube.  Ever since he abandoned sex, he’s built up quite the stash of toys.  He
plans on enjoying the blue dildo tonight, a treat he saves for special
occasions.
“I graduated college,” he grunts into the plywood.  The springs of his mattress
agree if their squeaks are anything to go by.  “I deserve to have some fun.”
 Then he yelps at the first brush of cold against his rim.
Somewhere along the way, he loses himself in the workings of his fingers.  He
starts imagining it’s a hand other than his own stretching him open - an easy
feat, given the disconnect between his brain and body right now thanks to the
lingering alcohol in his system.  Although he’s never done this with another
man before, and only once with a fling back during his sophomore year, it’s
easy to picture a warm, firm body lined up behind him.
“Mmmm, Cas,” he groans.  The image springs to life.  Cas working him open,
whispering endearments in his ear and promises not to go on easy on him.  Cas,
the way he should’ve been if he hadn’t died a million years ago or left Dean a
lifetime ago.  Probably as big as Dean, muscular and tan and voice deep like in
his dreams and fucking perfect.  
“So perfect, Cas.”  He sighs in contentment before removing his fingers and
slicking up the dildo.  He hasn’t done this in a while, but he’s too eager to
question if he’s prepped himself enough.  It takes a moment to line it up on
the bed and breach his rim, but once he starts it’s impossible to stop until
he’s fully seated.  
“Miss you, Cas.  Want to do this with you for real, wanted it for years.”  He
rides the dildo lazily, drawing out the feeling until he’s almost pulled off it
then sinks back down just as slowly.  He keeps fucking himself, increasing the
speed once he’s built up a rhythm.  The whole time he talks in a hushed tone.
“Wish it was you fucking me right now.  What I’d do to feel you inside of me,
you know that?  You’d take such good care of me, I know you would.”  His
knuckles are white where he grips the bed frame and the air he breathes in is
damp, his own heavy pants echoed back to him by the wood.  “Oh baby, you feel
so good.  Missed you so much, want to fuck you so damn bad I- I-”
He has to pry his fingers loose so he can wrap around his cock.  It’s leaking
profusely and he uses the precome to ease the path of his hand as he starts to
stroke himself.  
“Can you hear me, Cas?  Can you hear what you fucking do to me?  Even after all
this time… even after you left me…”  There’s a shiver that runs down his spine
and he gasps.  His hand speeds up and he can barely keep his balance on the
dildo.  “Oh fuck was that you, Cas?”
Another shiver and his cock twitches.  Just like most of the other times he’s
prayed to Cas, it almost feels like Cas is listening.  Except he feels it more
acutely than ever before, a physical weight on him.  
“I- I hope you’re listening, Cas.  Hope you hear me fucking myself while
thinking about riding your cock.  Want you to know I think about you every time
I jerk off.  ‘ve thought about you every time I’ve had sex for fuck’s sake.
 Couldn’t… Can’t get over you.  Need you so much, please please please-”
There’s not much left to be said after that, just a string of curses and
begging until he’s coming all over his sheets.  He milks himself until it’s a
tad too much on his oversensitive skin, then carefully removes the dildo before
tossing it on the floor.  
“Ugh, I’m so weird.”  He collapses onto the bed and instantly regrets the
decision.  “And so so gross.”  Too lazy to deal with the problem right now, he
scoots as far away from the wet spot as he can and passes out.
It’s a dreamless sleep, but one that’s strangely loud in its silence.  
- - - -
He’s a little embarrassed the next morning.  Not about picturing Cas (that’s
not exactly a new development), but about the whole praying part of it.
 Wherever Cas is, he’s pretty sure that was vaguely inappropriate.  It’s
laughable to imagine Cas as an angel, sitting on a cloud in Heaven plucking the
strings of his harp and getting harassed by the prayer equivalent of sexting.
Dean resolves never to do it again, no matter how much he enjoyed it.
- - - -
The next time he sees dream Cas, nearly a week later, the other boy is looking
at him funny.
Castiel’s grown up some more over the years, nearly resembling the teenage form
the real Cas once donned before disappearing.  Dean’s had a framework for what
Cas might look like over the years, filling in the gaps between his 11 year old
self and this teenage version he once saw, and he wonders what the next phase
will look like.  How will his brain imagine an adult Cas?  Or will he be stuck
in this younger form?  
Pushing aside the thought, he meets Cas’ gaze and returns it with his own
questioning shrug.  “What?”
“Can I try something?”
“Course Cas.”
The other boy takes measured steps forward until they’re maybe a couple inches
apart.  He looks up at Dean, biting his lip nervously.  Dean wants to soothe
whatever’s troubling him.  His hand comes up to do just that, to gently cradle
his cheek when he finds himself instead being kissed.  
Dean gasps in surprise, which is the only invitation Cas needs to invade his
mouth.  Cas is thorough in his exploration, tongue tracing Dean’s teeth and
lips as his hands grip his waist.  And Dean blissfully surrenders.  If dream
Cas is the only Cas he’s ever gonna get, he’s not gonna complain about it.  
When they break the kiss, he finds himself in an unfamiliar bedroom, pushed up
against the edge of a bed.  Dean lets himself fall back onto it, mouth watering
as Cas crawls over him.  “Anything else you wanted to try?” he asks as he
suggestively splays himself out for Cas’ use.
“Yes.”  Cas kiss him again.  “Many many things.”
Dream sex is infinitely more and less complicated than real sex.  It’s so
disorienting the way the scene changes randomly.  Shifting from Cas above him
to behind him.  Clothes disappearing or reappearing just so Cas can remove them
himself.  And the way he suddenly finds himself on his knees with his ass in
the air should make him fall over.
But then Cas is opening him up sans lube, thrusting in before it’s physically
possible.  A guy could get used to it.  
“D-Dean,” Cas stutters.  His vice like grip on Dean’s hips would be bruising if
they were awake, but as it is they tease at the idea of pain.  “I- Can I look
at you?”
With a thought their position changes.  He’s on his back again, looking up at
Cas as he starts to fall apart.  
Dean wraps a hand around his neck and brings him close, nipping at his ear.
 “You feel so good, baby.  So so fucking good, you have no idea.”  
Cas whimpers and speeds up, nearly at the edge of his self control.  Dean
arches into him and moans because this is it, this is what he’s always wanted
and damn if it isn’t as amazing.  When Cas puts an unsteady hand around his
cock, he’s completely undone.
“Cas!” he shouts.  “Was always gonna be you, you know that?  Always.  I’m… I’m
sorry.  Didn’t want to make you leave, didn’t want it.  I love you.  I miss
you.  Come back to me, please come back to me.  You were always gonna be my
first, always gonna be it for me.  Why’d you have to leave me?  Please, baby, I
love you.”
Castiel surges forward and devoirs his mouth, most likely just to shut up his
babbling.  He only breaks away as he comes, choking out Dean’s name and
thrusting erratically.  Seeing it’s enough to bring Dean with him over the
edge.  He wraps himself in around Cas, kissing and petting every part of him he
can reach.
“I love you,” he says over and over until his voice breaks.  “I love you so
much, Cas.”
- - - -
Dean wakes up in a post-coital haze (weird, given his complete lack of a sex
life that doesn’t involve his own hand).  His blanket’s sticky in a way that
reminds him of his youth, but he’s not really interested in dealing with that
thought right now.  Instead he scrambles to find his phone, vibrating angrily
at him from somewhere under his bed.  
Worried the call will go to voicemail, he snatches the phone up and answers it
before checking who it is.  “Hello?”
There’s a beat before a cautious voice asks him, “This a bad time, brother?”
“Huh?  What, no.  What’s up?”  Instantly more awake, he sits up and ew, yeah,
he definitely had a wet dream.  Fuck.  
Benny’s indecision is somehow audible.  “You sure I’m not interrupting
somethin’ I shouldn’t be-”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Benny.  I’m at my parents’ place.  I didn’t bring some
rando home.”   In the weeks after the school year ended, he moved back home.
 It’s a temporary thing, a go between while he finds a part time job and a
place near his grad school.  And even if he didn’t have his Cas hang ups,
bringing someone here for sex makes him shudder.
“Sure you didn’t.”  
The tone is teasing, but it still makes Dean bristle a bit.  “Whaddya want,
Benny?”
“I may have a job for you, if you’re still lookin’.”
“Fuck yeah I’m still looking.”
“Well, you know I’m back at Lawrence High right?”  
Despite everyone’s expectations, Benny had become a history teacher.  It still
baffled Dean a little, but he’d heard Benny talk passionately about it enough
times to know it was what his friend wanted.  He’d been hired right out of
college to teach the upcoming school year at their alma mater.  
Which is great and all, but Dean doesn’t see how that’ll land him with a job.
“Congrats again on that, but relevance?”
“Well,” Benny drawls.  “They’re lookin’ for a new assistant wrestling coach.
 The old coach retired and the guy who was assistant when you were on the team
took over.  They still need someone to help out, though, and I figured since
you were in the area-”
“How much they pay?”  He bursts out laughing when he hears Benny’s uneasy
cough.  “I’m just fuckin’ with you man.  I’d love to.  I mean, as long as
they’re payin’ me something I’m sure I’ll make do.”
He gets a call from the principal later that day and they hammer out the
details.  All in all, he’s excited about the prospect.  Not so much the going
back to his high school.  But wrestling was one of the good things that helped
him through the loss of Cas, and he wants to help offer that outlet for other
kids who might need it.  
- - - -
Even though the school year doesn’t start until after Labor Day, most of the
athletic teams straight training in the summer.  Late July rolls around and
Dean’s being called in to meet the other coaches and the kids.
Coach Hanscum remembers Dean, of course she does, and wraps him in a huge bear
hug to welcome him back.  She give him a perfunctory tour of the school, the
whole time scolding him for calling her Coach instead of Donna.  (And man is
that gonna take some getting used to.)  Not much has changed since he
graduated, just a few renovations here and there.  Things in the athletic
department have been shuffled around and the equipment’s new, but all in all
it’s familiar territory.  
Donna leads the way into the weight room.  There are over a dozen boys and
girls of varying ages at the machines.  With a whistle, she effectively ends
their workout.  The kids walk over and form a semi-circle in front of them,
several taking a knee while the others look at Dean with open curiosity.
“Heya kids!  This here is Mr. Winchester, and he’ll be your new assistant coach
this year.  Give ‘em a hello.”
There’s a mumbled chorus of ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you.’  One kid elbows his
buddy and points to the far wall where the school records are held, no doubt
wondering if he’s the same Winchester that won County five years ago.  
(He is.)
“Why don’t you guys go ahead and get back to work.  Coach Winchester ‘ll be
around to introduce himself in a bit.”
The kids scatter and Donna follows a group of girls to supervise an impromptu
squat competition.  Left on his own, Dean figures it’s as good a time as any to
get to know the kids he’ll be working with.  He picks a random direction and
starts walking.  
A boy with messy dark hair is fiddling with the weights on the bench press.
 Seeing a good opportunity, he steps up with the intention of offering to be a
spotter.  Then the boy looks up and smiles at him and Dean nearly trips over
himself.
He’d know those big blue eyes anywhere.
“Cas?” he croaks.
And then he passes out.  
End Notes
     MCD: only refers to Cas dying in part one/two and his disappearance;
     there are no new MCD but since dean's coping with it throughout this
     story i put it in the tags
     underage: dean and cas have dream sex and at the time cas is only 15
     (dean is 22); dean is not aware that it's actually cas though, and
     from cas' pov it would likely appear that dean is also 15
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!