Twist And Shout

chapter 9

Gabriel didn't say anything for several seconds.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

"I'm fucking sorry too! That you think you have to call me in the middle of work to tell me some bullshit lie about Cas to make me feel like shit. To make me feel like shit because you can't stand that I fucked him! Bullshit, this is fucking bullshit!"

"I'm so sorry."

"Stop telling me that!" Dean roared. "Stop telling me you're sorry about a fucking lie!"

His skin was itching; he felt like it was stretched too tightly over him, like he was going to burst out of it at any second. His face felt hot and red.

"You need to understand!" Gabriel said loudly, and Dean could feel more words bottle-necking in his throat, pushing up, attempting to get out of his mouth as he swallowed them down.

Dean raised a shaking hand to his mouth, running his fingers over his jaw.

"He wants to see you. He hasn't asked for anyone else outside of the family."

Dean's hand curled into a fist, his tongue felt thick and heavy and everything tasted like pennies.

"Why does he want to see me?" Dean asked, shaking his head. "We...we ended it. We haven't spoken since."

"He's dying, Dean," Gabriel .

"Where is he?"

"San Francisco General."

His heart dropped; he hadn't known Cas was in San Francisco.

"He's been living in the bay area for a few years now," Gabriel explained. "We didn't know where he was for a long time, either. We finally got a hold of him when Rachel got married - he came for the wedding. He looked then, a little thin, but now..." Gabriel trailed off.

"How much time?" Dean said suddenly, not knowing where the question had come from. But there it was. The words burned as they moved past his lips, dark and bitter. "Don't bullshit me."

"They wouldn't tell me for sure."

"Don't bullshit me," Dean repeated, his voice a tired whisper.

"A few weeks. Probably less."

"No," Dean said automatically. "No, that can't be right."

"I'm sorry," Gabriel said, again.

Dean didn't know what exactly Gabriel was sorry for. He and Cas had ended so long ago. He didn't know what to say. His brain felt soft in his skull and the words wouldn't process. They kept twisting themselves up and getting tangled the more he tried to understand exactly what they meant. A few weeks. Probably less. He felt like he should laugh.

"I have to go..." Dean said vaguely, and he pulled the phone away from his ear.

His hands were shaking, and if it was out of anger or out of fear, he didn't know. He felt almost sick, lightheaded, and he leaned against the wall behind him, running a shaky hand through his hair.

This had to be a prank, a cruel prank that Castiel and his brother were playing on him; revenge for Dean leaving Castiel when he had. Revenge for just up and leaving without so much as a warning, and really, Dean believed that this was something that he deserved. What he had done was really shitty of him, but Castiel's brother telling him that the man that he loved more than anything in the world was dying - why?

Maybe he didn't deserve this.

Maybe.

He breathed, his hands still shaking, and he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He pressed his back against the wall, pressed the heels of his hands harder against his eyes, and there was a little voice in the back of his head telling to let it out, to scream, to cry, to just let it out. But he couldn't.