#god sleep

[indelibleiris]

Helllooo friends!! I have recently gotten hooked on the BoNY train, and am starting to work through it via drawing, as one does :]

For now it's Aelys and an interpretation of Xilyreon as a maned wolf! I'm not sure who's up next but perhaps Synnove! I will see all you lovely people then!

[kitsunenana]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEEEE~!!!!!!

[thelasthalfbloodprincess]

It is 5 am. I am on tumblr. What have I done with my life?

[luteces]

[wings-aflutter]

I feel like naming our baby, 'I Gave You All.' JS.

“Cas!” Dean hears himself exclaim. He’s across the floor in seconds, and grabs a hold of the angel as he sinks down.

“What are you doing, Dean,” murmurs Cas softly in Dean’s jacket.

Dean chuckles feebly and replies, “Well, you’re kinda about to keel over.”

“I talked to him, Dean, because you wouldn’t,” Sam tells him, and damn, Dean had forgotten about him being there for a moment.

“Well, then, good job on breaking the angel there Sammy,” Dean snarks back, even though he knows that something else did this. It scares him, to see Castiel in such a wretched state. Even during the Apocalypse, even when he had lost all hope, Castiel only sulked and got narky. Dean’s embarrassed to see his angel-buddy like this, and pats Cas on the back awkwardly.

“Uh, it’s not that bad?” he tries. Sam shoots him a death glare and a bitch face combined in one expression, and Dean shrugs back. Cas doesn’t reply, and keeps staring at the splotchy motel carpet.

Sam glowers at Dean for a good minute, and Dean finally finds the accusation in his stare. “What, you think I did this? I didn’t touch him!”

“That’s kind of the problem,” Sam mutters under his breath. Dean picks up on it, and the implication within the words, but doesn’t reply. He’s not sure how to.

Dean really hates the fact there’s a storm outside right now, or he could tell his brother to get lost. “Come on, get on the bed, Cas,” he says instead, and Dean helps him onto the hard mattress. “That’s it.”

Dean’s comforted Ben before, once or twice over something stupid. Long before that, it was up to him to console his baby brother whenever he was upset. But that’s completely different to holding a very adult man-angel in your arms and knowing that putting an icepack on a sprained muscle isn’t going to fix things.

“So, what’s the problem,” Dean murmurs to Cas. If Sam teases him about this later, so help him God, he will commit fratricide.

“I think I may be about to fall,” Cas says, and cold shock shoots through Dean. Surely not. They can’t afford this, not when Raphael’s gonna restart the freaking Apocalypse.

Dean can’t afford this, not when he knows what a mess a human Castiel can become.

“What, you losin’ your angel mojo or something? Can’t zap anymore?” Dean jokes. Unfortunately more concern than Dean would have liked slipped through into his tone.

“I have not experienced a loss in Grace,” Castiel breathes into Dean’s collar, and crap Dean has to restrain a shiver. Freaking angel and his freaking personal space issues. “But I know that my strength is becoming compromised by my humanity.”

“What, you can’t gank angels because you’re compassionate?” Dean summarizes. “Cas, that’s what makes you different to those other sons of bitches.”

“I am becoming compromised because of you, Dean,” Cas sighs, and Dean is torn between wanting to push Castiel far, far out of his personal bubble and – irrationally – wanting to draw him closer. “I am experiencing all this pain, this emptiness, because of you.”

“Cas, Cas, talk to me, what the hell did I do? If this is because I was acting like a dick to you before, then-“

“Dean, you have done nothing,” Castiel interrupts, and there’s no trace of his angelic authority in his voice. “I am the one to blame. I foolishly allowed myself to fall in love with you.”

Dean freezes where he is, and Castiel lets out a breathless chuckle. “I’m sorry about all of this.” The angel says, plucking thoughtlessly at the worn sleeve of Dean’s jacket.

“Don’t apologize,” Dean says instinctively. He’s still reeling from Castiel’s acerbic declaration of … his feelings for Dean. “Just lie down, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

Dean curls his arm around the angel as he reclines on the bed. Cas’s head is still buried in Dean’s jacket, and Dean has an overwhelming surge of protectiveness hit him all of a sudden.

He looks up and finds Sam has a small smirk and a raised eyebrow ready for him. “Shut up,” Dean snaps, even as he blushes. He had forgotten his brother was there. Again.

“Didn’t say anything,” Sam replies quietly, and lies down on his own bed. 

--

The next morning, Dean wakes and has to resist the urge to bolt when he feels someone snoring gently into his neck. It feels utterly weird, and Dean decides he’s only letting it go because Cas really needed this.

Dean groans softly as the angel’s words from last night come back to him.

‘I foolishly allowed myself to fall in love with you.’

“Way to hurt a guy’s feelings, Cas,” Dean whispers into the mess of hair against his mouth.

~

Castiel is dreaming. Or at least, he thinks he is.

He's in a field somewhere, so unlike the one he's known his entire existence, that spreads for miles, that's spotted with bright, swaying roses, and buttercups, drops from fresh, soothing rain sparkling in the light that never fades. It's so unlike Heaven's plains, that he's confused, and disorientated, thinking that he's somehow strayed from the familiar cobbled paths winding through the gardens. But it's impossible for him to be lost. And yet, he is.

He touches bare branches on trees scraggly, thin and weak. The cold, brisk wind whips through the top branches that Castiel can't reach, the resulting rattling noise that speaks of empty summers without the love of blooming sprouts of green, drifting through the area around the Angel. He stands completely still. And listens. But there is nothing more to be heard. No birds, no breaths, no clashing of silver swords, no thunderous echoes of war, no chorus of Angels, just nothing. Nothing. And Castiel feels scared for the first time in his existence.

He takes a shaky breath, eyes flickering left and right, trying to decide whether fleeing is an option. The place was empty, void of anything alive, and just by being here, he felt like a part of him was dying slowly. Piece by piece he was being broken, and as time passed, his heart ached and terrible heat invaded where it once had never been. He had never been so alone. And it hurt. Oh God, it hurt.

 'It feels awful doesn't it?' 

Castiel whips his head around to the direction of the soft, lilting tones that float from beyond the line of dead, wilting bushes. He doesn't see anything, but thinks his eyes catch just a whisper of dark, coal-black feathers.

'Who's there?' growls Castiel. He's frightened, terribly so, but it doesn't mean being in this strange, desolate place has drained him of all his courage. His fingers reach into his coat, smoothing over cold, gleaming silver, preparing to fight.

'Me,' replies the mysterious voice playfully, chuckling at its' own joke. Castiel doesn't appreciate the joke and grits his teeth, the laughter grating on his nerves.

'Tell me who you are, and where I am, or...' He pulls out his sword threateningly, edging towards the bushes with slow, aching steps, the pain never leaving, and then not expecting the voice to suddenly come from behind him.

'Or what, you'll kill me? Tsk Castiel, oh how love has made you foolish.'

Castiel's world tilts for a moment, and he can't breathe, throat constricting, and he is even more terrified than before. But not for himself. He almost keels over. It knows. He grips his sword tighter, as flickers of green eyes, and toothy smiles flash behind his now closed eyes.

Dean.

'Ah yes, Dean Winchester, the hunter that stole the rebellious Angel's heart,' the voice moves around him in circles, like a surrounded, wounded animal he feels, and Castiel doesn't know where to look. 'So touching, and a little... Disgusting.' It changes suddenly, from light teasing, to deep, gravely anger, and complete utter loathing. The voice stops in one place, and in the air, he feels waves of power, so much more than he's ever felt before, even in the rare times he'd been with Michael. Everything darkens. And now, not even the wind speaks.

'Angels are the purest forms of creation, and this Father of yours is ruining your potential. And you know what? That pain you're feeling? It's going to be so much worst when you fall. You'll feel every tiny little thing. Every cut, every bruise, every single time your heart gets ripped out of your chest, just everything. You'll be disgustingly human. I almost pity you.'

Castiel doesn't respond. 'I'm giving you a chance here to think, Castiel, to simply let yourself fall, or...'

There's the brush of feathers against his shoulder, and breaths hot against his ear.

'Do something about it.'

~

Castiel wakes up. Dean's there shaking him hard, eyes so deeply worried that Castiel thinks that he looks like he might scream. 

'Oh thank God,' speaks Dean with relief, voice scratchy and tinged with roughness. Castiel peers up at him, trying to sort out the blurring his eyes are doing, and the racing of his heart. That voice never leaves him, even as Dean continues his rant.

'You just wouldn't wake up, you started shaking so bad that I thought you were having an attack or something. I was thinking about throwing some water on you, but Sam,' Dean glanced at an almost equally worried Sam, looming over Cas' body, 'Said it wasn't a good idea. Because Sam always knows he's right.' Sam ignored Dean's blatant sarcasm, noting how Dean himself was shaking a little. Sam didn't respond with annoyance. He knew Dean's way of dealing with things like this was with a facade of being a complete dick. He wasn't too worried for him, but Cas on the other hand.

Dean's scared shitless. And he's even more scared shitless when Cas stands from the bed, appearing robotic in his movements, more so than he usually is. 'Cas?'

Castiel turns to stare at the man he loves. The voice speaks rampant in his mind, but the drumming from Dean's heart echoes so much louder. The voice is wrong. He's already thought about. For months, he's writhed with indecision he didn't know existed. And he knows. The pain's worth it. All of the pain. Everything. It's worth it. He knows it's true. The falling. It's worth it.

He tugs Dean towards him, and kisses his mouth.

~

Fingers slide against rotten, black bark. Lips curl into a smile that speaks of death.

Well. She tried.