A Few Weeks, Probably Less
-
They were seated at a small, crowded, Mexican restaurant, Dean debating on what to get. He wasn't especially hungry, and nothing looked especially good. He rubbed his eye and stared at the same thing over and over, rereading the same sentence by accident.
"I'd like to tell you we dated, but I'm not sure that was really what it was," Balthazar said suddenly, throwing his menu down, disgusted. Dean put his down as well, leaning back in his seat.
"You mind if I smoke?"
"Not at all."
Dean pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, watching the blue smoke dissipate.
"I think he used me. To get over you," he said, barking a laugh. "How absurd that I should be telling you any of this."
"I appreciate it," Dean shrugged, "He can't tell me anything. Or he doesn't want to. I can't tell." He took a pull, and shook his head, exhaling rapidly. "I don't want to press him for anything anyway. Sometimes he coughs and..." He cut himself off, Balthazar fidgeting.
"I'm the one who made him go to the hospital," Balthazar said softly, "It was like one day he woke up and... I don't know. He called me at work and I came over, and he said he had thrown up and he didn't know how it happened. He was in the middle of his living room, and there was..." Balthazar stopped and took a breath, "He'd gotten sick everywhere and he was in the middle of it - I thought he was dead. I really did. Wasn't the first time I'd thought that, either."
Dean tapped his ash into the tray, his stomach clenching and twisting itself into a fist.
"He'd been getting so thin; I thought it was stress, and then they started saying things around, you know, I had heard them saying something was going around, but I just waved it off. It was just stress, or something, but then I went in, and he said he couldn't breathe and he'd fainted. They diagnosed him with an upper respiratory infection, but it wasn't just that. He was hospitalized practically overnight with pneumonia. And then it all sort of fell apart so quickly."
"Was he sick before?"
"Not for years - not like that. There was one time, a year or two after we came, but that was just the 'flu."
The waitress interrupted them but Dean ended up only ordering more coffee, and Balthazar got some kind of combo.
"You can peck off it if you like," he'd said and Dean hadn't said anything in return.
"Did they tell you? About that pneumonia he has?"
"PCP."
"PCP," Balthazar said with a small laugh, "I looked it up at the reference library. It's nearly nonexistent. It's caused by a fungus that's everywhere and from what I gleaned, it never happens. We breathe the bacteria in every day and don't know it."
Dean tried not to think about it too much.
"What happened to him?" he asked after a long silence.
Balthazar shifted in his seat, sipping his water delicately. He set the glass back down and wiped the condensation it left on the table away.
"You," he said frankly.
Dean nodded.
"That's not fair though. I don't want to give you all the credit. A lot of things happened to him, but you, you were always it."
"If I had known..."
"But you didn't, and it's happening," Balthazar snapped, shaking his head, "I shouldn't be mean to you. You weren't there. You...you didn't see it."
"Please," Dean pleaded. "I want to help him. I want to fix it."
Balthazar fixed his gaze on him.
"Do you really, though?"
Dean stared back, refusing to look away.
"I would give anything to change it."
Balthazar took another drink of water and frowned.
"I'm going to need something stronger than this," he commented, waving their waitress down, asking for a shot of tequila. She brought it promptly and Balthazar sucked it down, not batting an eyelash.
He settled himself and took a deep breath.
"I think it was '73."
Castiel had more and more trouble focusing in class. The words in his books jumbled on the page and reformed themselves every time he tried to read them, so eventually he just quit trying altogether. He would return home to an empty, dark apartment; the shades always drawn, little slivers of light leaking through onto the hardwood floor. He would make dinner for himself, sit in front of the television on the couch, watching whatever was on. 'Watching' was a loose term. It was more like avoiding Star Trek and the Twilight Zone. They were dumb shows anyway.
Sometimes he would get phone calls, and every time the phone rang, he prayed that it was Dean telling him that he was coming home. Apologizing to him over and over again, telling that he was stupid for leaving, that he was a jackass, and that he still loved Cas.
Cas was used to not getting what he wanted.
Balthazar, his friend from school, would call to check up on him. It was sporadic at first, just a casual chat to make sure that he was doing okay. Eventually, their conversations start to last, sometimes stretching on for hours, and, sometimes, Balthazar could even make him laugh. Cas would hang up the phone and realize his face ached with a smile. But it wasn't the same as when Dean made him laugh or smile. Nothing was the same. Dean had been gone for nearly a year, and everything was different.
Cas tried to quit thinking about him altogether, but it was difficult because every time that he looked around the apartment, there was another reminder ready and waiting. When he'd left, they'd changed the lease to his name; technically the apartment was his on the papers. Nearly everything belonged to him, but Cas couldn't escape the idea of him. Sometimes he would forget that he left the bedroom light on, and he would catch himself thinking that maybe Dean was back, maybe Dean was in the bedroom putting his clothes back into the closet and dresser. It always ended in disappointment though, because Dean wasn't coming back. Cas knewthat he was never coming back.
"You should move out of there."
They were at the small cafe down the street from his apartment, he and Balthazar, sitting inside and having lunch together. Cas shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. He could feel Balthazar's eyes on him, and he swallowed, still shaking his head.
"I can't do that. What if he comes back and I'm not there?"
"Darling," Balthazar started, reaching across the table, fingers gently resting against his wrist. "You know he's not coming back. That place is dragging you down, you need to get out of there. Very bad vibes."
"I can't," Cas sighed, pulling his hand away and setting it in his lap, and Balthazar retracted his arm, playing with the corner of a napkin. "Where will I go?"
"You can move in with me. I've got plenty of room at my place. I've been looking for someone ever since Dylan broke up with me." Balthazar shrugged with one shoulder, and Cas considered it for a moment. Balthazar lived closer to campus, and he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his school days alone, sulking around his apartment. A roommate would be nice, someone to talk to and spend time with. He wouldn't have to eat dinner by himself, or watch television by himself. He wouldn't have to be alone anymore.
"Yes," he nodded, smiling softly. "Yes, that would be nice."
The following weekend, Balthazar was at his apartment, helping him box up his things. They listened to records as they worked, and Cas made sandwiches for them when they decided to take a break. They sat on the floor in the living room and laughed lightly about empty things, easy things. ,.
"What are you going to do with all of the furniture?"
Cas chewed on the sandwich, peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth, and he swallowed thickly. "Sell it, I guess."
"Money for new books, huh?"
"Or new records." Cas chuckled, and it was such a foreign feeling. He hadn't laughed and meant it in so long, and it was so different. He stopped and set his sandwich on the plate in his lap, pulling his glasses off to rub at his eyes.
"Cassy?"
"It's just-" he breathed, laughing wetly. "It's just so weird. I didn't think I would ever leave this place, that we would be here forever." He laughed again, and Balthazar moved forward, reaching out and pulling Cas toward him. Cas acknowledged the touch, his hand brushing over Balthazar's leg. "I just thought things wouldn't end, and here I am, packing up my things and leaving."
"It's alright," Balthazar soothed, rubbing Cas' back gently, and Cas shook his head,laughing again and rubbing his eyes.
"It's just so weird." He shrugged and swiped at his nose, smiling slightly. "Dumb though. Why am I getting all emotional? I'm moving on, right?"
Balthazar nodded and took Cas' plate from him, setting it onto the coffee table along with his own. He gently ruffled Cas' hair with a smile, and Cas leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Well, let's finish packing, hm?" he suggested softly and stood, and Castiel looked up at him, taking his hand when it was offered. Balthazar hauled him to his feet, and he smiled, adjusting his glasses.
They packed the turntable and the records last, Cas carefully putting them into boxes and placing them in the trunk of Balthazar's car.
"Darling are you ready?"
Cas stood, the box under his arm, an album in his hand - one of the first he'd ever owned.
"Just a second!" he called, staring at the Hawaiian print on Elvis Presley's shirt. He looked up, and he swore, for a moment, he could see it all the way it had been, but with a blink it was gone. He stared at the emptiness, wondering if that was how Dean had felt when he first moved in. Blank.
How could Dean have known? How could either of them have known -- He licked his lips.
"Darling!" Balthazar's voice jerked him back into reality.
"Coming!" he answered, slipping the record back in among the others, walking to the door. He fitted his hand over the knob and opened it, but just as he was leaving he hesitated, turning back one more time.
Soft silence and shadows occupied the room, and it was surreal to think it was the last time he would see that apartment. It was the last time he would be in that space they had shared for so long, and he wondered what the walls would say if they could speak. What they would choose to tell him.
He swept his eyes over the kitchen and the living room. They'd left the kitchen table and the chairs. The bed in the back room, past the hall. The bare floors were duller than he remembered them being with the rugs gone. A little more scuffed, a little more worse for wear, but he still loved them. He would always love them. The same way he loved -
He stopped himself before he started.
It didn't seem right, he thought, even after all that time. After everything.
No, it never did seem right.
"See you then," he said quietly, and shut the door behind him.
Cas had only been to Balthazar's apartment a few times, but it seemed different than the last time that he was there. He had to stop thinking of it as 'Balthazar's', like Balthazar himself was constantly reminding him. It was his home now; it was where he was living.
It was smaller than his old one, but it was fine. . He put the rest of the clothes into the dresser and sat down on the edge of the bed. He had to buy new sheets, he realized, because this bed was smaller than the one back at the other apartment, which really wasn't a problem. He wasn't going to be sharing this bed with anyone else. He laughed a little bitterly and shook his head, moving off of the bed to the last boxes on the floor.
There was a small table in the room and he put his turntable on it, leaning his records on the wall beside it, putting everything into order, and when he was done, he put Elvis on. The volume wasn't loud - he didn't want to disturb Balthazar- but it was loud enough to be heard in the small room. He laid on the bare mattress, hand behind his head, and closed his eyes.
Dean could dig Elvis...
He pushed himself off of the bed and moved across the room, pulling the record off of the turntable and pushing it back down into its sleeve. It went back in its spot with the rest of the records, and Cas stood in his bare feet with his face in his hands, but, for the first time in a long time, he didn't cry. He stood there, waiting, but the tears never came. It was unsettling, but when he finally decided to get off of the floor and go into the living room, Balthazar was seated on the couch, watching something on television, and he sat up straighter when he saw Cas.
It had been a long time since someone had done that.
"I didn't want to bother you," Balthazar said, his accent, for some reason, sweet and refreshing and new, "but I made dinner if you're hungry."
"Thank you." Cas smiled and walked into the kitchen, getting a plate of out of the cabinet. He sat at the kitchen and table and ate in silence, and before he finished, Balthazar joined him.
"So I know that you don't have class tomorrow, and neither do I, so did you want to do anything?"
"Get settled." Cas took a bite of the pasta, staring down at the plate. He didn't see Balthazar nod, but he heard the squeak of the chair against the hardwood, and felt a hand on the back of his neck and lips against his hair.
"Take as long as you need, Cassy,
Balthazar hesitated a moment, and then without a word, dropped a another kiss on the top of his head and went back into the living room. Cas' fork hovered for a moment.
He closed his eyes and kept eating.
By the time the summer of '75 rolled around, Balthazar could tell that Castiel was becoming more comfortable with the fact that Dean was gone and he wasn't coming back. He smiled more and laughed more, and he spent more time with Balthazar. They spent their nights together watching television and making dinner, and sometimes on the weekends, they would even go out together. He knew though, that heartbreak wasn't an easy problem to fix, but he was trying every day that he spent with Cas.
Dean still came up. Mentioned in passing, or what Cas would probably deem by accident, but Balthazar never complained about it. It wasn't like they had long, drawn out conversations about Dean. They never talked about him leaving; just that he had left. That he was there and then he hadn't. Sometimes they would watch TV, and the Twilight Zone would come on and Cas would stand up and change the channel wordlessly. Balthazar would only nod, understanding, and curl his arm around Cas' shoulder when he sat back down beside him.
Othertimes, Cas would lock himself in his room for hours, and there was nothing that Balthazar could do to coax him out. It was difficult, but days like that became less and less as time passed, and most times, Cas spent his time in the living room reading or watching TV. It was so domestic, the way that they lived, and Balthazar thought it was funny. He had mentioned it to Castiel, how they had fallen into a sort of routine with each other, how they had become so used to each other so quickly, and Cas only smiled softly and muttered even more softly, "It is funny, how that happens to people."
School wasfinished in no time for both of them, but Cas had told Balthazar that he had wanted to take a year off before going to med school. That he just needed some time off from everything.
"Where are you planning on going?"
"I don't know."
Cas pushed the pasta around on his plate, and Balthazar watched him for a moment before looking down at his plate and taking a bite. He gently kicked at Cas' shin beneath the table, and Cas looked up at him.
"You have the applications, right?" Balthazar looked up at him again, and Cas nodded.
"I've had them. Just never got the chance to fill them out."
He left it at that, and they both finished their dinner in silence.
The next morning, Cas wasn't in the apartment when Balthazar woke up, and he didn't think anything of it. Maybe he had gone out to get some fresh air, which was great because he had been really down recently. Neither of them had much to do since they didn't have classes anymore, and Balthazar could tell that it was getting to Cas. He didn't have anything to occupy his mind, keep his thoughts off of Dean, and he had been falling back into the state that he was in before.
He didn't hear from Cas for the rest of the day.
The door slammed open at around eleven at night, and Balthazar jumped, sitting up on the couch, alarmed.. Cas was slumped against the doorframe, rubbing at his face, glasses askew and hair a mess. He stumbled inside and closed the door, and Balthazar was off of the couch, moving toward him, catching him by the shoulders when he slumped forward.
"Cassy?"
"I saw-" he paused, fingers digging into Balthazar's shoulders. "I thought I saw him." Cas sank to the floor and Balthazar moved with him, wincing when Cas pulled him down hard, knees hitting the floor.
"It's okay," Balthazar hushed as Cas' hands moved, clinging to the front of his shirt.
"I thought I saw him, and it-" he sobbed, pressing his face against Balthazar's chest. "It hurt so bad. I didn't know what to do."
He smelled of alcohol, and Balthazar held him tighter, carding his fingers through his hair.
"I went...I walked, and I tried, but I can't forget! I can't forget him!"
Balthazar pulled Cas away from him and held his face in his hands, poor Cas, god he looked pathetic. Eyes red rimmed and wet, glasses askew on his face and hair wild. He had spilled something on himself, liquor or something, and Balthazar frowned in concern.
"It's okay," he repeated, kissing Cas' forehead until Cas relaxed against him, drunk.. He hauled Cas to his feet and helped him walk to his bedroom, sitting him on the bed and helping him pull his shoes off. Cas pulled the rest of his clothes off himself, and when Balthazar went to leave, Cas grabbed him by the sleeve, glancing up through his wet lashes. "Don't go." His voice was hoarse.
Balthazar stared down at him, heat pooling in his stomach.
"You're drunk," he whispered, and Cas stood, pulling at Balthazar's hands.
"Touch me," he said, dropping his head to Balthazar's neck, moving Balthazar's palms to his sides, pressing Balthazar's fingers into his skin. "Touch me," he breathed, kissing Balthazar's mouth.
Balthazar couldn't say no.
The next morning, Balthazar woke to Cas staring at his clothes on the floor, face apologetic.
"It's fine," Balthazar said sleepily, stroking Cas' bare shoulder. "This is a good thing - I mean, if it weren't me, somebody else, right? Eventually?"
Cas' face crumpled for a moment and then recovered, under control.
"Eventually," Cas repeated, forcing himself to lay back down, his legs tangling with Balthazar's.
Balthazar looked at the dark circles under Cas' eyes; the tired lines of his mouth. He looked so much older than he was. Wrung out. He hesitantly touched Cas' face and Cas' eyes opened; blue and doll-like.
"How about a change of scenery?" Balthazar smiled, and Castiel looked taken for a moment.
"I just moved," he said softly, distantly.
"Yes, sweet, almost a year and a half ago," Balthazar reminded, and Cas shook his head against the pillow. Had it really been that long? "Anyway," Balthazar continued, stroking Cas' eyebrow, "they say the scene in San Francisco is amazing. Really lively and lots of people like us. They have a whole neighborhood practically and there are people opening stores all over. Just a really good vibe. A really good one." Cas remained quiet for a while, thinking, fiddling with the edge of the sheet.
Balthazar breathed softly and tilted his head, "tell me what you're thinking," he said lightly and Cas flashed a smile.
"A change of scenery would be nice," Cas said finally. "We can look for somewhere bigger."
Balthazar took Cas' hand in his own, twining their fingers together, glad when Cas didn't pull his hand away. "Anything you want, Cas."
Back at the restaurant, Balthazar's food had arrived and the blonde man was hovering a bite in his mouth, pausing his story.
"That can't be the end of it," Dean said, shifting in the booth.
"Hardly," Balthazar managed after some chewing. He looked up at Dean. "We hadn't met her yet."
"Her?"
Her name was Meg, and, when she talked, her voice was a slow southern drawl, like syrup being poured out of a creamy white pitcher. They met her at a club after they'd moved, and Cas had taken to her like a moth to a flame.
"I think she reminded him of you," he said, crunching a tortilla chip, and clearing his throat. "There was something very reckless about her. Of course, we didn't know then what it was. We just thought she had no qualms about risks."
By the time they had met Meg, Balthazar and Cas had been sleeping together regularly enough to be called a couple. It didn't surprise Dean in the least. Balthazar kidded himself at first - Cas was really moving on. People were right, and they were both thriving in San Francisco. They could kiss each other in public, hold hands, and it seemed to be alright if you were chaste enough about it. The bay was a harbor. In the safety net of their community, love was the economy. They went to bars, clubs, went dancing, met people. They heard things, but they hovered on the edge. Cas was too monogamous for bath houses, and he didn't want to catch anything.
"We hadn't planned on staying forever. The Davis Medical school had opened in '66 and Cas wanted to go back eventually, but that's not really how it turned out, I guess."
Dean nodded vaguely. '66. He remembered something about that in the paper. Cas had entertained the idea of going more seriously than the other medical schools, despite it not having the privilege of age or esteem. Dean had wanted him to go somewhere better.
They started running into Meg more and more; she was part of those lost flower children, the left-overs of the dwindling peace movement who had drifted to San Francisco like the rest of the outcasts. Her crowd was wild and unpredictable, but Cas had been intrigued by her. She was so beautiful, he'd say, under it all. She knew how to live. Balthazar wouldn't lie; she charmed him too. She charmed everyone. Seduced them with her pretty dimpled smile and long wavy brown hair and a voice as sweet as a Georgia peach. It was Cas who she could get to do anything.
"You take a city full of young men and ask how much sex can they have, they'll have quite a bit of sex. That's why we had the bath houses, you know? All that. We were all about freedom, we were all about breaking the system. We fancied ourselves outside of it." He ran a hand through his groomed hair. "Meg was just the drugs version, and Cas - I don't know. Went after it like some kind of man possessed. At the time I didn't realize it was to black you out, but it was obvious that's what he was trying to do."
They both did it. The drugs. In the back rooms and small, cramped houses where Meg would stay. Huddled shoulder to shoulder with Ruby or the like. Meg only had to get Cas drunk enough and he'd do anything she liked.
"I had done it in college, during the protests, but Cas hadn't, and I should have watched him," Balthazar said.
Dean was stunned. Positively stunned.
"The heroin was bad, but it was the cocaine that got him."
"Coke?" Dean rasped and Balthazar nodded.
He let it get out of hand, but Cas smiled when he was high, and he said he loved Balthazar when he was high, which he never did sober, but like all things, it went too far. He disappeared for days, and when Balthazar showed up at the hotel they had all been partying at he couldn't find him anywhere.
They were sprawled around, and two of them, Meg's unnamed shadows, were having sex on the couch while Meg helped Ruby shoot up, licking her neck as she did so. When Balthazar asked for Cas she had laughed and pointed to the hallway.
"Shhhhh! Baby is sleeping!" she'd giggled into her hand, holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she'd removed it.
Cas wasn't asleep.
"I thought he was going to die, I really did. I don't know how I got him to the car, honestly," Balthazar said, staring out the window. "I dragged him out, I don't know...." He folded his hands together and tucked them under his chin.
They had left him in there, sweating and thrashing on the bed, out of his mind. He'd thrown up twice in the grass on the way to the parking lot, his body buckling in on itself, but Balthazar had managed to get him in somehow. He'd started to babble, and Balthazar was trying to shush him, and in anger or fear, he'd grabbed Cas' shoulders and pinned him to the seat.
"You're going to kill yourself!" he'd cried. "She left you in there, and you could have died!"
Cas' eyes had been glazed and shimmering as he smiled up at Balthazar.
"That was the point," he slurred, and Balthazar wanted to throw him out of the car. He'd wanted to beat the shit out of him.
Cas had laughed, the sound chaotic, just like Meg's, his eyes rolling skyward.
"This is about him, isn't it?" Balthazar hissed. "It's always fucking about him! I'm tired of it, Cas!"
Cas kept laughing, choking and coughing as he did, his head tossing about on the seat.
"He left you! He left you - and I didn't! I love you! Why can't you just love me back? I thought we were starting over! We had forgotten him!"
Cas' laughter had changed. It was bitter and dark.
"You want to know...a secret?" he'd gasped, pulling Balthazar closer, right against his ear. "He wouldn't touch me...he wouldn't...he wouldn't touch me."
"Cas, stop," Balthazar said, Cas' hand wandering over his own chest up to his neck, touching his mouth.
"...It must have been me, why else? Why wouldn't he touch me? He wouldn't touch me...I'm disgusting..."
He looked up at Balthazar, chapped lips mumbling together.
"You won't ever be him," he whispered. "You can't be him. You try, but you won't ever be him."
"I took him home, helped him throw up, got the ice when he came down. His fever broke sometime the next night. He was so apologetic," Balthazar sipped the last of his water, shaking his head, "but I never forgot what he said.
He hooded his eyes, glancing at Dean.
"I would never be you."
Dean's eyes were closed. He didn't know when he had closed them.
"He cleaned up after that; got a job working at a department store. He decided he didn't want to be a doctor anymore. It sort of faded out of him, just like everything else. He was still him, but, it was all just a game. I was the bookmark; and I knew I was. It didn't bother me anymore. I made him happy as much as I could, and he loved me, even if that love was just some reflection of what he always had for you.
"He gave up," Dean said and Balthazar hummed in agreement.
"Just a bookmark. Something to keep his mind busy."
"When do you think he started getting sick? He's so thin...that doesn't happen overnight."
Balthazar shrugged, shaking his head, at a loss.
"It must have been after Rachel's wedding," he smiled, "He was so excited for that. I hadn't seen him that happy in years."
"His sister Rachel?"
Balthazar put his napkin over his half eaten food, nodding.
"Yes, it must have been after the wedding, because I remember he had bought a suit and mentioning he had dropped quite a few sizes. I told him to stop working so hard, but he was getting promoted at the store and he was so happy because things were starting to feel a little more real. He must have called the house at some point and given them the address. Maybe Gabriel or something, I don't know. He never talked about them, but the invitation came and he was - he was really beside himself."
Balthazar squirmed, pulling his wallet out, "I think I have a picture in here..." he flipped through the wallet and tugged a photograph from it, folded once in half. He slid it across the table and Dean hesitated before looking. He kept his fingers on it, face down, for a while and then lifted it.
Cas was beaming; and the suit looked fine, but now it would drown him. He had easily lost half the weight he had in the picture, and even then he was thinner than he'd ever been with Dean. He stood beside the bride, his arm around her.
She was lovely. Fair haired and weepy-eyed, but smiling just the same. Rachel. He had never seen a picture of her past the age of fourteen.
"He started complaining about chest pains in January, and kept brushing it off as a cold because he hadn't had the 'flu in years. He said he was about due, but then...he just got sick, like I said."
Dean realized he had finished his second cigarette and ground it out in the ashtray.
"Thank you. For telling me," he said, and Balthazar remained silent for a while.
"I still hate you. For what you did to him, but," he laughed self-deprecatingly, "just in the room with him, I could tell. The way he was looking at you before I came in? It was all there."
Dean nodded, because he didn't know what to say. He hated himself for what he had done too, because Cas was dying now, and it was all because he had left him. But Cas didn't blame him, which hurt more than anything. Across from him, Balthazar fished a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them onto the table, pushing back. Dean followed suit and they left the restaurant to return to the hospital.
Before they went in, Balthazar stopped Dean, pulling his key ring out and fiddling with it, both of them standing near his car, the sun beating down on the parking lot.
"I'm going to England for a while," he said softly, and Dean could see the wetness of his eyes, Balthazar blinking in excess to keep it from spilling over. "I can't -." He paused, fighting with the key he was trying to pry off, "- I, I can't be here. I can't watch him like that." He tried to say something more, failing. The key finally came loose and he held it out to Dean for him to take, and when Dean did he pulled out his wallet, digging for something.
"If it's because of me," Dean began and Balthazar cut him off.
"It is, and it isn't." He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Dean as well, an address scrawled on the back of it. Balthazar stared at the key and pushed Dean's fingers to close around it. "I'm just the bookmark, remember? He doesn't need me here anymore, and I don't want to be here."
"That's not true," Dean said, putting the two items in his pocket.
"When it's done, you can take that and go to our flat - his things are there, and I'm sure you'll want to sort through them...we drew up the will last week and all that. That's his brother's card. He's a lawyer and he's taking care of the arrangements for everything. His suit's in the closet. The one he wore to Rachel's wedding..."
"It won't fit," Dean murmured, staring at a crack in the concrete.
"I suppose it won't matter," Balthazar whispered, turning his head away to wipe his face.
When they returned, the television in the room was on, playing some old movie, and Tessa was seated in one of the chairs beside the bed. She had Cas' hand in her own, and Cas appeared to be asleep. She set his hand down onto the bed when the door opened, and she stood.
"Didn't want him getting lonely while you two were gone." She smiled, and Cas stirred, cracking his eyes open. He smiled behind the mask, the new sweater he had on bringing the blue of his eyes out just a little, and Balthazar moved to the other side of the bed, gently taking Cas' hand.
"I'll see you around, sweetheart."
"You're... leaving?" he breathed and Balthazar answered,
"Oh, just for a holiday, darling," Balthazar croaked, bending to kiss his forehead, lips pressed to his skin for a long while. Cas closed his eyes and squeezed his hand. "I'll come back and tell you all about it."
Dean looked away, and Tessa slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Balthazar smoothed his hair back with his other hand, and Cas smiled sadly when Balthazar pulled away, moving around to the other side of the bed to pat Dean on the shoulder.
"Take care of him, Dean."
"Of course."
Balthazar took his leave and Dean sat in the chair Tessa had been sitting in. Cas' hand drifted toward him and Dean took it, bringing it up to mouth to kiss his fingers.
"He's not...coming...back," Cas said sadly, and Dean shook his head, squeezing his hand. Cas breathed, his chest rattling, and he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to look at the television mounted in the corner of the room.
Dean followed his gaze, watching the television for a moment. He couldn't place the name of the movie, but it looked like some old sci-fi film. Cas laughed softly, and it almost sounded like a hushed whisper. Dean shook his head and looked back at Cas.
"He told me what happened to you."
Cas stilled briefly and then relaxed against the bed, frowning, pulling his hand from Dean's to rest it on the bed.
"I'm sorry..."
"Hey, it's not your fault," Dean moved closer, pushing Cas' hair from his face and scratching lightly. Cas closed his eyes and leaned into his touch.
"It...was so stupid of me..." Cas breathed, letting Dean massage his scalp. "...what if I had...forgotten you?...so childish."
Dean paused.
"That...that... would have broken...my heart," Cas murmured.
Dean leaned in, pulling the mask aside and Cas' eyes opened, watery and confused. He gasped, fingers closing weakly around Dean's wrist.
Dean pulled back from his mouth, and Cas gasped again, his hand shaking where it held onto Dean.
"I never stopped loving you," Dean said. "Even - even when..."
Cas sobbed.
Dean kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.
Dean didn't know how exactly someone was supposed to check off the days of "a few weeks". Hour by hour he didn't really notice the fact that Cas was dying. He was just Cas; a tired, tired, Cas who couldn't breathe.
At the moment they were playing Crazy Eights over Cas' lap; the fog of the morning hadn't burned off, and a dull rain was starting to pebble the windows. The bedside lamp made Cas' skin look sallow, but he was having a good day, and was smiling more and able to sit up. He'd even had a bit of an appetite, which was uncommon.
"...you are still terrible... at cards..." Cas said, and Dean managed to laugh, watching Cas put down another card and then pull it back, staring at it.
"...am I allowed to do this?" he asked, and Dean squinted at him, Cas heisting with the card.
"Yeah, baby, you just did that a few turns ago."
Cas stared at it and nodded, laying it on the pile, smiling at Dean.
"You ok?" Dean said, rubbing Cas' arm through his sweater.
"Yes," Cas said distantly, settling his hand together, running his finger on the edges of the cards.
Tessa poked her head through and smiled, and Cas adjusted himself, sitting up straighter, breaking out of his momentary stupor.
"You've got more visitors, Cas." She pushed the door open and Sam walked into the room, followed by Jess, and Dean could hear the sharp intake of breath from Cas, laying his cards down.
Dean knew that Cas was grinning behind his mask, and when he turned to look at him, his eyes were wet, and Dean reached out to thumb his tears away before he stood and headed toward his brother and sister in law. He grabbed hold of Sam and pulled him to his chest in a tight hug before releasing him, and then he moved to Jess, kissing her cheek before he looked down.
"You brought her?" he reached for the small bundle in her arms, pushing the blanket away to reveal their daughter. Fine blonde hair and hazel eyes. Dean smiled down at her and she reached out her tiny hand, curling her fingers around one of his.
"Of course," Jess laughed softly. "We wanted him to see her before..." she trailed off, smiling sadly. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
"It's okay," he smoothed his thumb over the baby's cheek, and she squirmed. "Everything's gonna be okay."
Jess pressed closer to Sam, and he curled his arm around her shoulders, and she held her daughter closer to herself as she cried. She couldn't hold it in anymore. Dean could tell that she was trying to be strong in front of Cas, but some things just couldn't be helped, and he understood that Cas was sometimes very hard to look at.
"Jess..." Cas said from the bed, and Jess laughed softly, wiping at her face.
"I'm fine, Cas. I'm fine."
"It's just a lot to take in," Sam murmured, and Dean nodded. Sam gripped his shoulder with his free hand and kissed Jess' temple as he pulled away, moving to sit on the opposite side of Cas' bed. Cas grinned and reached for Sam's hand, and it looked so small in Sam's giant palm.
"Sam..."
"Hey, Cas," he smiled and covered Cas' hand with his other hand, and Cas laughed softly.
"You...grew." He couldn't stop smiling, and Dean was glad that they had come and visited. Jess tugged at his sleeve and he turned his attention to her.
"How long does he have?" she whispered, and Dean shook his head, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
"Not too long."
He could hear Sam and Cas talking to each other, about how Sam went to Stanford and became a lawyer, and he heard Cas saying how proud of Sam he was. It was quiet for a moment, and then Cas spoke again.
"What's...their...name?"
"Abigail," Sam answered, and Cas nodded, turning to look at Dean and Jess near the door. They both turned their attention to them, and Sam motioned for Jess to come closer. She walked toward the bed, and Abigail cooed in her arms, little hands reaching up to tug at the ends of her blonde hair.
Jess was wary though, and didn't get too close. Dean knew that Cas would understand.
"Dean..."
Dean turned his attention to Cas, moving closer to him, but Cas just smiled and squeezed Sam' hand. Sam watched him, watched the way that his chest fell and rose with each, rattling breath that he took.
"Can...you...hold her?"
Jess nodded and turned to Dean, gently placing Abigail into his arms, and he held her so close to him. She was so small and fragile, like a baby bird, blinking up at him and reaching for his face, tiny fingers opening and closing in the air so close to his chin. He bent down, and she grabbed at him, small hands rubbing at the stubble, making her little sounds
Cas laughed and lifted his other hand to his face, shakily wiping at his eyes before he returned it to the bed.
"She's...beautiful."
Jess took the other seat beside him now that her arms were free, and she grabbed Cas' hand and twined their fingers together. He smiled as she smoothed her hand through his hair.
"It's so good to see you, Cas," she whispered. He nodded slightly and leaned into her touch. Abigail was still grabbing at Dean's face, and Dean bent to kiss her cheek, making her squeal. Cas watched him the whole time, his face wet with tears, and for a moment, Dean felt like everything was going to be okay. That Cas was going to get through it. They would be together again. Cas would watch Abigail grow, and maybe sometimes he would even take her to school. They would have a home together and Sam and Jess could visit them on the weekends with their daughter.
But then reality set in , and Dean knew that none of those things were going to be possible.
Sam looked to Jess and she nodded slightly, leaning forward to kiss Cas' forehead, and he smiled. Sam squeezed his hand before he stood and pulled away. Jess didn't want to seem to let go, and she kissed Cas' cheek, laughing softly.
"We need to go, but we'll be back. I promise, Cas."
He nodded and she pulled away, moving to Dean to take Abigail from him. His arms felt empty and heavy when he dropped them to his sides, and he kissed the baby again, then Jess, and hugged Sam. They said their goodbyes , and Dean returned to his seat beside Cas, taking his hand. He wiped at Cas' cheeks with his thumbs, drying them as best he could, and Cas just closed his eyes and sighed, but the tears just kept coming.
"Cas, hey. It's okay," Dean tried, but Cas shook his head.
"Promise me.." he whispered, and Dean nodded, leaning closer. "You'll...live...your life."
"Don't talk like that, please," he pleaded. He didn't want to hear it right now. He didn't want Cas to lecture him on how he should live his life after he died. He just didn't want to think about how, maybe, in the next few days, that Cas wouldn't be here anymore and Dean would have to return back home without him.
Cas breathed and the corner of his lips curled up in a grimace; he grabbed at Dean's wrist, pulling his hand away from his face.
"You...need to."
"What am I going to do though?"
"What...you've been...doing." He paused for a moment, squeezing his eyes closed, hand fluttering to his chest as he gasped. Dean moved closer to him and Cas opened his eyes to look at him. They were the soft color of corn flowers; glassy, like the glossed sheen on Dutch porcelain. Dean didn't like looking into them anymore. They weren't the eyes that he remembered, so vibrant and bright, the bluest blue that he had ever seen.
"Okay"
Cas smiled, and close his eyes, turning his face to relax against the bed.
"I'm...tired."
Dean took his hand and set it onto the bed beside him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face.
"Get some rest."