anonymity was never an option

111: dean

"Cas?" Dean whispered into his dark empty bedroom.

He immediately put his hand down beside him to feel his boyfriend hopefully laying there asleep, but instead his hand fell right through down onto the gray cotton sheets.

Out of surprise, he quickly sat up on the edge of his bed and looked to see if he was in the bathroom.

The light was off.

What the hell?

"Cas?" Dean said again, this time louder, hoping to initiate a response.

He stood up next to the bed and squinted his eyes, as his head readjusted to standing up.

He heard a faint noise from outside the door, so he quickly scurried his way across the floor to the cracked door that lead out into the living room.

Softly, he opened the door and began to walk across the dark wooden floor when he saw a light emanating from the kitchen.

"Cas? What are you doing?"

As he made his way into the kitchen he noticed Castiel hunched over the counter looking into an empty glass.

"Sorry. I was... thirsty." A broken voice spoke from inside the room.

"You okay?" Dean asked, stepping into the doorway.

Cas didn't answer. He stood there looking into the same glass, standing in the same position, with the same look on his face.

"Cas?"

There was a pause.

"No." He whispered.

Dean tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked to Castiel for an explanation.

"What's wrong, angel?"

"I... don't know."

Cas slowly turned towards Dean. His eyes were tired, and his face held a expression of confusion and anxiety.

"What do you mean?" Dean said, starting to walk slowly along the edge of the counter to where Cas was standing.

"My head is in a million different places at once. I'm always thinking... I'm always overthinking. I feel everything and nothing at the same time. It's so... confusing, Dean. It's like... I can't even escape myself... so what am I supposed to do?"

"You need to let that shit go Cas. You're going to drive yourself crazy."

"I don't know how." His voice quietly tapered off.

Dean stood there looking at Castiel with a hopeless feeling in his chest. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?

"Dean help me."

Those three words broke his heart.

Dean help me.

For once, he didn't know how. What could he do? He couldn't just climb inside his head and throw all the bad thoughts out his ears. He felt so useless.

"Do you want to go... talk to someone about it?"

Castiel looked at Dean, deep in thought. It was as if he was pondering all the options, as if it required a thoughtful answer.

"You mean like a therapist?" He said slowly.

"Yeah." Dean looked away from him. "Cas, I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know all the answers. Maybe sharing this with someone else will help you see things in a way I can't."

"Are you tired of me?"

"No, God no Cas, that's not what I meant." Dean shook his head. "I just think, maybe you know, a professional might be able to help you more than I can."

"I doubt that." Castiel whispered, looking back over at the counter.

"Look..." Dean slid his arm against the counter, until his hand fell right along Castiel's. "You don't have to. But it might help."

Cas nodded slowly, glancing over at his hand sitting underneath Dean's.

Dean stepped in closer to him and used the hand on the counter to pull him into a hug. Castiel leaned his head into his chest as Dean wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Dean felt as he took a deep breath, releasing the tense muscles in his shoulders as he exhaled.

Dean felt overwhelmed as he tried to take the pain away from Castiel. He wished so badly that he could. That he could just take all of his worries and put them on himself. That he could take all of his evil thoughts and shove them down in his own mind. That he could lift the burden from his shoulders.

But he couldn't.

It was impossible.

Dean gently pulled Castiel's head into his shoulder and rested his cheek in his hair.

"I love you Castiel Novak. Never forget that." He whispered, his voice wavering from his previously calm tone.

Castiel's arms tightened around Dean, as he nestled his head further down into his chest.

Dean placed a kiss on top of his head, and then rested his chin on top of it, swallowing thickly as his own head filled up with thoughts.

He stared across the room at the other end of the counter, where the picture of he and Castiel at Bobby's garage sat leaned up against the counter wall.

He held the same boy in his arms that was leaning away from him in the picture. Except in the picture, his bright blue eyes stared happily at Dean and his smile was genuine and bright. His eyes didn't look tired and he looked energetic and ready to wipe that grease right back on to Dean's face.

He's not the same.

Dean closed his and squeezed the muscles in his face together in confusion, as he thought of how much things had changed.

Nothing is the same.

When Dean opened his eyes, he glared at that picture again, cradling Cas, as his own mind worked against him. He glared at the smiles on both of their faces as they stared into each other's eyes. He glared at the dirty white shirt Cas was wearing, and remembered taking it off of him later on that night. He glared at the things they lost.

Dean pressed his lips together, biting down on the bottom one as not to express what was really reeling through his mind. But, he failed.

He closed his eyes one last time.

And this time, as he did, a tear slipped down his face.