Broken

Cas was happy. The wine he had ordered had arrived just in time and it would taste just perfect with the prosciutto he had picked up from the local deli on his way home. It was his and Dean's anniversary, and Cas was determined to make it a night to remember. First some wine, prosciutto and cheese, then maybe a shared bath, and perhaps Dean would let Cas fuck him. It had been way too long since it last happened, but Cas didn't want to push it. Dean had come out because of him and still struggled with his newfound sexual identity. And it really didn't matter, because sex with Dean was spectacular no matter who topped, and Cas felt his cock get half-hard from the mere thought of it.

Dean probably wouldn't even remember their anniversary, but Cas didn't mind. He was better at remembering things anyway, so Dean let him handle 'all the important shit,' as he so eloquently put it. For his part, Cas couldn't care less about fixing anything, be it a broken bulb or a leaking pipe, or, God forbid, a broken tire. They had established a well working system, and neither of them saw any reason to change anything. All in all, Cas thought they had it good.

When he came home he frowned when he noticed that the lights were on. Strange, Dean shouldn't get off from work for several hours yet, and Cas had counted on having enough time to make everything ready for the evening. Whatever, he shrugged, and went inside. 

"Hello? Dean? Why are you already home? I thought you didn't get off until five."

There were two duffels on the floor, packed with Dean's clothes. Cas stared them and blinked.

"You're early." Dean was standing by the bedroom door, a third bag in his hand. 

Cas startled and looked at Dean. He was somehow subdued, even angry of sorts, and Cas didn't understand why.

”I— It's our anniversary, remember? I bought some wine and that 'fancy ham' as you call prosciutto. I wanted to surprise you," Cas said, his voice slightly faltering towards the end. 

"Crap," Dean muttered. "I didn't. Remember, I mean," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. His stance was off, oddly tense, like he was about to bolt. Cas moved to the kitchen and put the groceries on the counter. Something wasn't right.

"Dean?" He heard a voice calling from the bedroom. When he turned around he was staring at a very familiar face.

"Lisa? What are you doing here?" he asked, baffled.

Lisa looked at Dean from the corner of her eye. "You said he wouldn't be here." She glanced apologetically at Cas. "I'll be in the car." She picked a duffel from the floor and quickly walked out.

"Dean, what's going on?" Cas asked after the door closed behind Lisa. He was confused and really, really didn't like the feeling in his gut.

Dean sighed and rubbed his neck. "Cas, I'm really sorry man, this isn't how I wanted this to go. I really tried, but this isn't working. I can't do this anymore." He lifted his head and looked to Cas, fixing his eyes somewhere by his left ear. 

Cas felt like he was punched. He couldn't breathe, his head swam, and he swayed on his feet. "What?" He felt a strange numbness spread throughout his whole body. He fixed his eyes at Dean, like he could make the words go away if he stared long and hard enough.

"You heard me," Dean said tersely. His eyes looked straight into Cas's before sliding away again. "I can't do this. I can't live this life. This isn't me. I don’t— I'm not—”, he stopped and swallowed.

Cas couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're not what? What isn't you?"

"This!" Dean spread his hands, waving them back and forth between him and Cas. "Us. This... thing."

Cas's jaw dropped. "Are you referring 'this thing' as us as lovers, or as you as a bisexual? I can't belie— I thought we were through this already!"

"Really? 'Cause it sure as hell felt like you were through it, not me," Dean snapped, and Cas recoiled as if he'd been hit.

He felt like he was drowning. "You don't mean that. You can't mean that. Why would you do this? What happened? What changed? What did I do wrong?" He didn't realize he was shouting until the silence rang in his ears when he drew a shaking breath.

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head away. Instead of answering, he started packing his DVD's into a spare back bag. Cas felt his heart shatter into million pieces when he watched Dean's beloved Star Wars box vanish into the bag, along with the other films they had watched time and time again.

"Can't we talk about this, please?" He pleaded, not caring how pathetic his voice sounded.

Dean sighed. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Why? Is there someone else?" Cas meant it as sarcasm. Dean had always prided himself committed when in a relationship, and he had never had any reason to doubt him. Until now. Dean froze for a second and then slowly resumed packing, and Cas's world crumbled. 

"It's... complicated," Dean finally uttered through gritted teeth.

"How? Tell me how's it complicated, because I really don't understand", Cas demanded, digging into courage he didn't actually have. 

Dean just stared at him, jaw clenched. "Do you honestly want me to spell it out to you?"

Then it dawned. "It's her. You are going back to her, to Lisa, aren't you?" 

Dean didn't answer.

"But why? I thought we were happy together."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, you thought. Never bothered to ask my opinion about it. But that's not you, is it?"  

Cas was baffled. This was a whole new side of Dean, this tense and prickly man who's voice was laced with venom and bitterness. 

"How long?" he asked, his voice cracking. "At least be honest with me and tell me, how long has it been going on?"

"Four months." Dean's voice was soft and low.

God. Four months. Ever since that awful argument they'd had, after the harsh and hurtful words they had hurled at each other, trying to cause as much damage as possible. It had been a turning point in their relationship, Cas thought, and he had honestly believed things had been cleared out in the aftermath. It seemed that 'clear' meant very different thing to Dean than it did to Cas.

"I don't understand," he said. "I thought— I believed— You said—”

"I said what, exactly?" Dean asked, eyes hard and with a challenging edge in his voice. "Why don't you tell me that, 'cause all I can remember is you telling me how this should work out. Yeah, refresh my memory, please."

Cas couldn't find his voice and cringed involuntarily when Dean stood up, picked his bag of DVD's and took a step toward him. 

"If I remember correctly you accused me of hypocrisy and self-denial. You said that I was hiding, 'unable to see the truth about myself' and for that reason couldn't find 'true happiness' or whatever fuck you claimed it to be." Dean's voice was low and firm, and as he took another step to Cas, Cas took one step back, staring Dean eyes wide open.

"Well, wanna know what's funny? Seems like I was a hypocrite and hiding, 'cause I sure as hell didn't find that fucking true happiness with you."

"No!" Cas whispered brokenly. "You don't mean what you say."

"Fuck you," Dean snarled. "Don't you tell me what I mean and what I don't. You've done it enough already, and I'm sick of it. All this time you've tried to mold me into your little boy toy, to carve me into something I'm not, and I've let you, 'cause I thought that's what love's supposed to be. But guess what?" He drew breath. "It's not. Love means you're accepted as you are, not as an image of someone else's dreams. These four months have taught me one thing: my happiness isn't with you, it's with Lisa."

Cas swallowed and tried to come to terms with accusations Dean so vehemently had thrown at him. He was desperately trying to find a way to reason with him, to get him to talk about this nightmare he didn't seem to be able to awake from.

"All this time... you've lied to me? All the things you said, how you said you felt? None of it was real? I thought we were a family!"

Dean gave him a stare. "You're not my family, Cas."

Something snapped inside him. "So, what? I was your gay experiment, your little adventure in the exciting world of cock? You were fully on board, until you realized it was too big, too important and then you bailed. Don't you dare argue it didn't mean anything, because I'm not buying it." Cas was furious. "You said fuck me to accuse you of hypocrisy—I say fuck you for trying to put this on me. You knew fully well what you were doing, but you never had the courage to admit it out loud. And now you're running back to Lisa, because you're afraid."

He was met with silence. 

Then, "Well. I think you've made your point clear." Dean stated with a cold voice. He turned to stack his books into the bag on top of his DVD's, with overly calm, meticulous movements. 

Cas realized with a sudden horror that he had just torn apart the remains of their relationship. He reached out for Dean, who jerked aside like slapped, not wanting to be touched by Cas. 

"Oh God, I'm sorry! Dean, I didn't mean what I said. Please listen to me, please, Dean. Don't leave me. I love you, I'm sorry, I love you. Please, don't go, let me make this up to you, I'm so sorry-" 

He was babbling incoherently, tears streaming down his cheeks. Dean didn't look at him when he gathered his bags and walked to the door. He opened it, then hesitated and turned his head a little, still not looking at Cas.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Goodbye, Cas."

And then he was gone.

There was a giant, gaping hole in the ground and it was about to swallow Cas whole. His breath came with painful gasps as he fought to stay on his feet. He failed, and sank to his knees, hugging himself tightly. He let out a strangled sound as he stared the door, unable to comprehend what had happened. He started to rock himself back and forth, back and forth, sobbing softly. He could hear a strange humming sound in his ears and felt a constant ache in his chest, but apart from that, he didn't feel a thing. It took him a while to realize the humming sound was his voice mumbling in constant, futile prayer.

"I love you, I'm sorry, please forgive me, please come back, I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you, please, I love you—”