Snowflakes float down from the sky, spiraling in midair, landing in Cas’ hair. The metal bench under him is icy, the snow-melt soaking through his pant legs but he barely feels the chill. Inside him a burning has started in the shape of Dean’s name, a tiny snuff of a fire, intensifying with every passing second.
He’s alone, for now, but he can sense Anna’s presence nearby, the ozone-clean scent she leaves behind. Resting his elbows on his knees, Castiel leans forward, covering his face with his palms. Anna’s warning reverberates in his mind, clear and terrified.
You’re starting to love him, Castiel and it will be the death of you.
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Inexplicably, Castiel finds himself drawn to Dean. In the early mornings Castiel flies to Earth when Dean is fast asleep, the only time he is able to find some semblance of peace. Hidden in the shadows obscured by his own ebony wings, Castiel watches him, entranced.
Even in sleep, Dean remains the most beautiful human Castiel has ever seen – the soft rise and fall of his chest, his lips slightly parted, palms pressed together almost in prayer beneath the pillow. His soul shines bright, vibrating a melodic sound, calling out to Castiel’s grace.
Castiel yearns to touch him, to stroke his fingers through Dean’s hair, trace the line of his jaw, over the dusting of freckles on his cheeks. Lust, foreign of a feeling, burdened with the weight of all Dean means to him. It’s not only carnal desire Castiel wants, if it were, this would be easier.
Stirring in sleep, Dean shifts under the bed sheets, sighing soft and nuzzling into his pillow. Murmuring in his sleep, nonsense syllables Castiel can’t make out as words. Dean smacks his lips together and stills, a quiet snore echoing in the room around them.
Castiel settles onto the edge of the windowsill, just out of sight shrouded in darkness. Here he will sit and wait until a few hours now when Dean awakens and brings daylight back into the room. If he could, Castiel would spend a thousand years like this, observing Dean existing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Doubt is a fickle thing. At the first instance of it growing inside him, intertwining with his grace, Castiel leaves. He flies away from Earth, the planes of heaven to the far stretches of the galaxy until he’s outside looking in – far from his brethren and most importantly, Dean. Here, the Milky Way exists as a twirling speck of dust, sparkling with thousands of stars, all in the process of dying, some of which Castiel placed with his own hand, spun into existence from sun-rays, morphed into stardust.
Alone in the middle of space, looking down on the galaxy he helped bring into being, Castiel remembers how finite this all is. Hundreds of thousands of years from now, maybe millions if they’re lucky, the Milky Way will blink out of existence. And all will be forgotten.
Dean Winchester is a blip in the enormity of your existence, why does this one man mean so much to you?
Castiel can’t answer his own mind, why of all the humans in the entirety of creation that it’s Dean that gets to him. In less than a hundred years Dean will die like all the others, gone back to dust and Castiel will live on for millions of years, with only Dean’s memory tied to his grace, an invisible string, keeping Dean with him, always.
He’s not worth losing everything.
An image of Dean’s smile flashes through Castiel’s mind, the blinding shine of his soul, and how he exists and loves without apology. Dean will save the world, he’s going to save everything and Castiel wants to be at his side when he does.
He is worth it, Dean Winchester is worth everything.
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Billie pounds her fist against the door, and it shakes under the force of the blows. The warding will hold, but not long enough. There isn’t time, they’re going to die here, Dean is going to die and when he does the world will cease to exist. He can feel the terror reverberating from Dean’s soul, not of dying, but the knowledge that if they die, that everyone he loves will die too. Even in his last moments, Dean thinks of others before himself. And right now, here at the end of all things, all Castiel can do is think of him.
His deal with The Empty was made in a spur of the moment decision, knowing inherently that Dean can’t love him how Castiel wants him to. Castiel thought that might save him, but he knows now how naive he was.
Loving Dean isn’t just something he does, it’s who he is. Loving Dean is tied to his very essence, ingrained into the fabric of his grace since the moment he seared his palm to Dean’s arm and raised him from Hell. He lived and loved Dean, and that was enough. All that’s left is to help Dean see the good of who he really is, how his love for the world made Castiel love the same world right along with him.
Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack… I cared about the whole world because of you.
The Empty rushes forward to swallow him whole. Castiel looks to Dean, he always looks to Dean. Their eyes lock and Castiel feels the anguish in Dean’s soul reaching out to him, begging him not to go. It’s too late.
Peace engulfs him and then, he’s gone.
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Eternity is dark, a soundless landscape full of endless sleep. Until, one day, Castiel hears a voice. Quiet at first, shuddered sobs echoing the sound of his name. Familiar, a friend. Dean.
Castiel hones in on Dean’s voice until the force of it fills him, makes him tremble in its intensity. Then all at once, Dean’s words come through loud and clear.
I love you too, Cas. I love you. Please come back to me.
Castiel’s grace soars and lights him up from the inside out. Around him, The Empty burns bright with a white hot light and confused sounds fill the void, awakened beings coming to life in the sudden sun. It’s only a matter of time before The Empty itself shows up, enraged and ready to throw out whoever disturbed its sleep.
Focusing on his grace, the parts of it still tied to Dean despite the distance between them, Castiel sends out a message. He hopes that it’s strong enough that Dean will hear him.
I’ll come back to you, Dean. I’ll always come back to you.
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