Summary: Castiel knew he’d always love you, but he’d never actually given a single thought as to how he’d feel once you’d aged.
Pairings: Castiel Novak/Reader
For: @stiles-o-dylan24’s 1k challenge.
Prompt: “It’s torture, being human. Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off. Turn it all off.”
Warnings: Angst, Old Age, Death, Character Death, Major Character Death.
Word Count: 1,096
Note: Heavily influenced by Queen’s ‘Love Of My Life’.
*gif is mine - yes, I like B&W*
Sometimes, Castiel hated the Winchesters.
They get years upon years to frolic about, never ailing, never aging, and all the while you change. Your hearing fades, your stature stoops, your hands shake... but Castiel didn’t mind your change. You were still his first - and forever - love, and he’d always feel the same way about you. You’d stood by him from the beginning, why wouldn’t he?
Time and time again they’d go on, their time for their final rest coming only to be snatched away by God himself, the cruel being never wanting to lose his favorite toys. They would go only to be resurrected seemingly younger and more spritely than before, always in the mood to go, go, go.... and you weren’t, and Castiel hated it. You were tired more, always needing to sit because your back and knees always ached something fierce. Your hair that you’d taken such good care of because you viewed it as the only bright thing in your life (other than him, of course) had faded to an unsettlingly light grey before shifting to a snow white. Every single day you had grown weaker and weaker, but every single day you smiled - Still, even you had your worries despite your unwavering confidence in your angel.
“When I grow older-“ You had begun one night, your voice filled with fear and worry. Your hair had just started to grey then, and the reality of the situation surrounding your short (to him) lifespan had only really just dawned on the two of you, but Castiel had hushed you by placing a soft kiss onto your trembling lips.
“I’ll be by your side,” he promises, eyes warm with tenderness, love, and affection, “and I’ll remind you of how much I still love you.”
You’d smiled at him, that smile being just as breathtaking as the ones you’d thrown to him when you were in your twenties, and that was the end of those worries - for then, at least, and for you. But Castiel? Castiel always remembered, and he always mulled over his options, trying to find any possible way that you’d agree with that would make it so you were his forever... but he found none. That was why the two of you were in your bedroom now, your form shrunken and frail, wrinkled with time... but your eyes were still so bright.
“We both knew that it would end this way,” you say softly, sounding beyond tired and Castiel trembles Ah the sound of simple resignation in your voice, “but didn’t we have a hell of a run?”
“Y/N-“ he whispers, eyes red from crying, but you don’t allow it.
“No - would the mighty garrison leader Castiel really be crying over a human right now?” You ask sternly, recalling all of the tales he’d told you of the battles he’d won. He lets out a choked bark of laughter, eyes still red and steadily filling with tears, but a smile on his face.
“‘The mighty garrison leader’,” he says mockingly, “wouldn’t cry at all, no.”
He knew that you were teasing him, and he welcomed it wholeheartedly; it, at least, dragged his attention away from the solemn looking reaper waiting in the corner.
“Then why are you?” Y/N asks softly, and Castiel’s heart clenches as fresh tears roll down his cheeks.
“I - I don’t want you to go!” He whimpers, and the smile she gives him is soft and warm; she doesn’t say anything, and he pulls the frail hand that he’d been holding for the past few hours without ever letting go for a second to his face, pressing his forehead to the back of her palm. “P-Please, Y/N, I can’t - I can’t take it. Everyone else leaves, I need you.”
“You don’t-“
“I do! Can’t you see that you’ve stolen… you’ve stolen everything from me,” the angel exclaims, the tears falling. “My heart, my love, my life - and is do anything to relive it again… Fuck, Y/N, don’t leave me,” he begs next, and her soft smile only saddens.
“That’s not my choice.” She whispers, and her angel begins to weep, holding tight to her hand. She sighs softly, her shaky free hand reaching up to run its fingers through his thick, ink black hair. “It’s torture, being human,” she whispers, “Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off. Turn it all off, for you.”
She glances to the corner and her eyes shine with a sudden fear. In her soft panic, she attempts to get his attention, “Castiel,” but he didn’t notice, even when she repeated herself, and while he sobbed against the sheets, her grip on his hand loosened steadily until her hand was limp in his own. As her breathing slowed, Castiel felt his human heart speed up in fear. When it stopped completely, his heart broke.
“Y/N? Y/N?!” He whispers, gripping her limp hand tightly. He got no response, and his world shattered like the thinnest, most delicate glass after being carelessly dropped on a granite countertop.
“P-Please,” he begged to the empty room, knowing that no one cared enough to listen, “bring her back. Don’t take her away from me, you don’t know what she means to me.”
Silence.
“Please!” The angel cries, “I - I need - I need -!”
The angel’s breathing comes quickly, to quickly, as he panics beside her rapidly cooling body. For the next few minutes he hyperventilates, crying out in his mother tongue, begging for her to be given back to him until his eyes land on a photograph of them smiling together that she’d taken while he was unaware of the camera.
“You’ve hurt me,” he whispers, “and I let you… I’d let you do it all over again if you came back.”
His whispered pleas fall on unlistening ears as the angel takes his angel blade, slitting his own throat and withdrawing his grace, leaving just enough so he could speed up the process of aging by decades before even the Winchesters could stop him, only lasting a few years longer before he l himself is drifting off, hand in hand with a reaper of all things. He enters the heaven he shared with his wife, his mate, but she’s nowhere to be found?
“Y/N?”
“I’ll wait,” he murmurs to himself, “I’ll wait, she’ll no doubt hurry back.”
He forever remains blissfully - or perhaps painfully - unaware of the blistering heat that his wife had left him for however many years ago, alone in their heaven waiting for a woman who would never come.
Supernatural - @deanmonandnegansbitch
When I Grow Older [Castiel] - @imjustadrummer [I’ll send this to you sweetie!]
“Keep yourself alive.” You’d murmured against his lips. Steve, Nat and Clint were sitting on the quinjet waiting for him but Bucky just needed one more kiss goodbye. The mission wasn’t supposed to be a difficult one, in and out, that’s why it was such a small team. But he’d nodded and you’d given him a small smile then he’d joined the team on the jet.
The sweat is sliding down his skin, it was hot in the jungle. Why did Hydra always have to hide in the extreme temperatures? Is fighting in 60° (F) weather too much to ask? The ground shakes with yet another explosion and Bucky is hit by some dirt. He rolls out of the way of another explosion and curses as he presses his back to one of the trees and waits, they have to reload. They always have to reload. Sure enough the pause comes and Bucky leans around the tree and fires. Hydra is still shit at building things, one of Bucky’s bullets hits something and it explodes sending debris everywhere.
“Keep yourself alive.” You’d whispered into the phone last night. Just before he and Nat slipped out of the crappy safe house and into the darkness of the night.
The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Quick data gather, in and out in minutes. No one would even know he and Nat were there. But that’s not what happened. They’d been surrounded and surrounded fast. Nat has taken a bullet to the leg and he’d been outnumbered six to one but somehow they’d managed to get away. Hidden deep in the woods Bucky’d taken care of Nat’s leg then hoisted her up on his back and started moving. It was a longer walk than he’d thought and the rain starts less than a half hour into the trek but he keeps going.
“Keep yourself alive.” You muttered against his lips, it’d been early when he’d left, not wanting to wake you but when his warmth left the bed you’d woken anyways. He’d been able to convince you to stay in bed and with your request on his lips he’d left.
He and Steve had been caught, the guns on them too many and they hadn’t had a choice but to surrender. That was how they’d found themselves bound to two chairs in a cold, dark room.
“So this is fun.” Steve deadpans from behind him.
“Shut up Steve. If we die my girl’s gonna kill me.”
“Buck. They’ve literally used iron chains, I’m just curious as to what their plan is here.”
“Yea? Well I wanna get home,” Bucky flexes and pulls his hands apart. The chains snap like they’re made of paper. “Let’s go.” Steve sighs heavily and as Bucky heads for the door Steve snaps his own chains and they fall to the ground.
“Alright, lets get you back to your woman.” Steve teases but Bucky isn’t paying attention anymore. He busts down the door and the two of them run like hell. They make it down the hall and Steve blocks with his shield busting through the window, and after a tuck and roll they’re both back up on their feet and on the run. Bucky is shot twice covering Steve, hitting the ground with a shout. Steve, summons the shield jet and it appears quickly. Just in time for Bucky to black out.
Bucky moves gingerly through the hallway. Dr. Helen Cho has given him the green light but he’s still healing. When your door slides open he bites back a groan.
“Hi Buck.” You say softly, watching him from your doorway.
“Hi Doll.” He doesn’t move, staring at you from his spot in the hallway.
“I know you’re hurt.”
“Steve wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
“He didn’t,” you take his bag from him and he gives it up without a fight. “The only reason you’re not already kissin’ me is because you got hurt.” You tell him from just in front of him and he laughs softly. You’re not wrong.
“Well then,” he mumbles, stopping just inside your door, “get your pretty ass over here and kiss me already.”
“Not until you’re healed.”
“Baby I’m good.”
“Prove it.” You smirk at him before heading into the bathroom. Bucky growls and stalks forward, ignoring the small pangs of pain and before you can respond he’s got you pinned against the glass of the shower, his lips pressed to yours.
“Shower with me?”
“Yea okay.” You agree before pulling his lips back to yours once more.
The only reason Bucky had ducked into the small building was because of the downpour. Had he read the sign above the door he probably wouldn’t have gone in at all.
The club was dingy, he could see the dust in the air like it was smoke and for a moment he was at ease. He probably wouldn’t be noticed as quickly in a place like this.
Bucky makes his way to the bar, orders a beer, then waits for the sound of rain to stop hitting the rooftop.
When the music starts up he doesn’t look. Not until, he hears the voice. It’s smoky and sweet and it nearly knocks the wind out of Bucky. He turns slowly, his eyes landing on you. You’re center stage, in a black dress that hugs all your curves perfectly, his mouth goes dry as he stares at you. Jesus, you’ve gotta be the most beautiful dame he’s ever seen. Wide hips sway along to the music, your eyes closed as you sing.
He can’t tear his eyes away from you, at least not until one of the drunks yells from the middle of the room.
“Get off the stage!” When you ignore him and keep singing he yells again, “Fat ass! Get off the stage!” Then throws an empty beer can toward the stage. It doesn’t hit you but it does fluster you enough, that the song that you’re singing, one from Bucky’s youth, stops for a moment before you continue.
Bucky is out of his seat and has his hand wrapped around the front of the man’s shirt faster than security can get to him.
“You’re going to apologize to the lady and then you’re going to get out.” Bucky snarls and the man pales, nodding quickly. Bucky drags him to his feet and the man stumbles along behind Bucky as he moves rapidly to the stage.
Your song ends and Bucky shoves the man toward you.
“Say it.” Bucky growls, you look down at him wide-eyed and damn it you’re even more beautiful up close.
“What?” You breathe, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Not you Sugar. This asshole has something to say to you.” He pulls the man forward.
“Sorry.” The drunk grumbles.
“Like you mean it.” Bucky snarls.
“S-s-sorry.”
“For?” Bucky prompts, he’s not letting this guy off with a half assed apology.
“Ye-yellin’ at you.”
“And.” Bucky snaps
“Callin’ ya what I did.”
“And.” Bucky prompts again, turning his furious glare on the other man.
“F-for for throwin’ shit at ya.”
“Now get out.” Bucky shoves the man toward the door. He watches as the man scurries out of the bar then turns back to you. “Sorry about that Sugar.”
“It’s, it’s okay. I get that a lot, I’m not one of the dancers so they don’t really want me and my big butt on the stage.” You laugh softly but he sees the hurt in your eyes. You go to leave when he shoots out a hand and wraps it tenderly around your wrist. There’s surprise in your eyes again.
“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” He whispers, “and you sound just like one of the women from back in the forties. I’d know. My sister loved singin’ along with the radio so I’ve heard that song about a million times. Never as pretty as when you sang it.”
“Thank you.” A blush dusts your cheeks and Bucky’s heart flutters. “I thought you might be one of the super soldiers.” Your voice holds no fear, and when he risks a glance up at your eyes he doesn’t see any there either.
“Can, can I take you out tonight? Once your shift is over?”
“Me?”
“Yea Sugar. If you’ll let me.” You blink at him in surprise then nod slowly.
“I’m done in two hours.”
“I’ll wait.”
That night when he takes you out, he finds that his nickname for you, Sugar, was more than appropriate. You’re the sweetest woman he’s ever met. Warm and kind and he falls fast and hard. The date isn’t even over when he knows that he could easily spend the rest of his life with you.
He’s so fucking perfect. You fucking hate it. Mostly you hate his eyes, they’re bright blue, like the sky after a summer storm. They see too much.
“Hey doll,” he’d muttered one night at one of Tony’s extra parties. “What’s wrong.” You’d spent most of your evening with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a scowl on your face.
“Nothin.” You’d lied scowling down at your drink.
“Where’s Mike?” You’d shot him an annoyed look and it was like a light had clicked, “ah, what’d he do?”
“Oh, you know, just slept with Darlene in accounting.” You said before tossing back the remainder of your drink. “Apparently, I’m too distant and didn’t pay him enough attention.” Mike had also accused you of being in love with Bucky, which was laughable. Bucky Barnes was a pain in the ass.
You hate that fucking crooked smile he gives you. The one that always pops up once he’s pinned you for the millionth time in a training session.
“Fuck!”
“Mouthy.” Bucky teased quietly, his knee were on either side of your waist he’d gotten your arm pinned behind you and your face to the mat.
“Get off me Barnes.” You’d growled bucking your hips to try and get him to move, “Shit how much do you weigh?”
“Calling me fat Doll?”
“Yea.” You deadpanned, “get off me fat ass.” Bucky had laughed then swung off of you before reaching down a hand to help you up.
“That was better than last time.”
“Yea, yea I get it. You’re better than me. My bruises are gonna have bruises.” It was then he’d shot you that crooked smile, laughter behind his eyes. God it was so annoying.
You hate his hair, that’s got to be it.
You hate the dark color of it, you hate when he twists it back into a bun or secures it in a little pony. Oh but the worst was the time that he’d asked you if you knew how to French braid.
“How to French braid?”
“Yea, can you?”
“I can, I’m not very good though.”
“That’s okay. I lost a bet and Sam’s making me pay up tonight at the party. I have to have lights in my hair,” He’d grumbled.
“Amazing.” You’d laughed softly, “come on, I’ll French braid your hair. Do you have the lights? I can braid them in.”
“Here,” He’d huffed passing you the red and green fairy lights. You’d directed him to sit on the ground and you’d sat on your bed behind him. His broad shoulders brushing your legs. You’d worked quickly and couldn’t help the laugh that had passed your lips when you’d turned the lights on.
No, it wasn’t his hair, eyes or crooked smile that you hated, it was his hands. The flesh and the metal. You hated them equally.
“I don’t need your help.” You’d snarled, shoving Steve’s hands off of you.
“Darlin’ you shouldn’t be walking on it.” He’d said gently following you like the mother hen he is.
“I’m a grown ass woman Rogers. I’ll be fine.” You’d said through gritted teeth, you’d sprained your ankle, not lost a leg. Steve sighed and moved away from you and toward Bucky. The next thing you’d known Bucky had stalked over to you and thrown you over his shoulder.
“What the hell! Put me down!”
“No.” He’d snapped as he trekked through the woods. “You’ve sprained your ankle, you keep walking on it it’s gonna get worse. And you’re slowing us down. So shut up and quit squirming.” You’d glared over at a laughing Sam and if Bucky’s warm, calloused hand hadn’t wrapped around yours you may have thrown something at Sam. Preferably a knife.
No, no it’s not his hands either. It’s that Brooklyn accent that drops the 30’s slang. That’s what you hate the most.
“Hey doll.” He’d whispered into your ear. “You as sick of hearin’ this bag of hot air talk as I am?” You’d hummed lowly, while it was important for the Avengers to make their presence known in the political scene. But if this dude didn’t stop talking soon, about woman’s bodies and how they worked nonetheless, you might actually shoot him.
“Wanna sneak out?” Bucky has your full attention now and you glance at him with a raised brow.
“Captain America would be so disappointed in us if we bail.” You’d whispered back and Bucky gave you a wide smile. “Let’s go.” You tell him grabbing his arm.
“You look real nice Darlin’. Prettiest dame in the room.” You’d scoffed.
“Buck, I was the youngest person in there by like two decades.”
You hate him.
At least that’s what you tell yourself, that’s what you tell Steve when he asks, earning a disbelieving look from him.
You hate that he’s not kissing you.
“Ooooooh.” Tony said pointing at the space above your and Bucky’s heads. You’d glanced up and groaned, there it was. Mistletoe.
“Fair is fair Doll.” Bucky’d muttered leaning down toward you. You’d always wondered what kissing him would be like but you’d never imagined that it would happen in front of all of the team. He’d leaned in close, and pressed a kiss to your cheek before laughing at Tony’s annoyed noise and moving away.
You hate that he’s not holding your hand. That you walk next to him not touching.
“Hurry up doll!” Bucky had laughed, he’d reached behind him and caught your hand. He’d been so excited to get to the carnival, according to Steve carnival rides had been one of Bucky’s favorite things. He’d dragged you behind him and through the crowd of people. He’d brought you to one of the spinning rides, you’d been anxious but excited to be spending the day with him. Once you were in line he’d dropped your hand, watching the spinning ride with a wide grin on his face.
You mostly hated that you didn’t hate Bucky at all.
“They’ll kill you for this.” The man says spitting blood out of his mouth, you laugh humorlessly.
“They already did.” You tell him raising the gun and firing once.
Another one bites the dust.
“Having fun?” A low voice asks and you whirl around, gun at the ready. You relax when you see him standing there. Your only ally.
“What do I call you now? You’re not the soldier anymore right?”
“Right.” It’s strange to be having a conversation like this with him. Especially in English, all your previous communication was in Russian. “I’m Bucky.”
“Bucky.” You repeat the word feeling funny in your mouth. “Are you here to stop me Bucky?”
“No.” Your mouth ticks up on one side, it wouldn’t have gone well for either of you had he said yes. “I’m here to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Really? The two Hydra goons I took care of on the way would say otherwise.”
“I would’ve taken care of them too.”
“You’re welcome,” Bucky says with a smile and you glare over at him.
“Quit your yapping, I’ve got the location of another base.”
“Keep your shirt on.” Bucky grumbles and you roll your eyes moving past him.
“There! Stop!” The gunfire causes you and Bucky to dive into another room.
“I thought you said that you took care of them!”
“I took care of the ones I saw, I can’t do everything.” He huffs and for a moment you consider shooting him before one of the agents come up the stairs. There are six of them, the first one you tackle, knocking him off of his feet. You snap his neck before he can retaliate.
Another one bites the dust.
Bucky blocks the gunshots with his metal hand before you kick the man in the hip sending him flying out of the fifth story window. These old buildings really make your job easy.
And another one gone.
Bucky charges at the two men still coming into the room. They don’t realize the danger they’re in until it’s too late. Bucky grabs the first man and throws him at you. You fire a single shot.
And another one gone.
You’d forgotten how fast he moved. One second a hydra agent is shooting at him the next Bucky has the agent’s gun in one hand and his throat in another.
And another one gone.
You let your guard down, the last man gets a shot off at you hitting you in the side. You let out a hiss of pain as you hit the ground. You fire two rounds at the fucker for good measure and he hits the ground with a thud. He won’t get back up.
Another one bites the dust.
“Where to next?” Bucky asks, glancing at the blood on your torso. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, he knows you’re fine. You’re a winter soldier, you heal just as fast as he does. If not faster due to your small size.
“Here,” you pass him the photo you’d kept and the black marker that goes with it, “you can cross out the third from the left.”
“I remember him. Sick fucker, liked to watch you change.”
“Yea, he’ll never get the pleasure again.” You say gathering up two new weapons.
“Sorry I couldn’t do more.” He says crossing out the man’s face. “Two left huh?”
“Yea, and he told me where to find that one,” You tap the photo above the middle head.
“Where?” He asks staring down at the face that had given you both so many orders. The face that had forced you to forget so many times.
“Chile.” You tell him, lighting the fuse you’d set out on your way into the building. Hydra would never use this facility again. The pair of you keep walking, you’ve done this hundreds of times, the only person they’d ever paired you with was him. Soldier One.
“Looks like we’re going to Chile.” Bucky says passing you back the photo just as the explosion rips through the air. You tuck the photo into your back pocket and the pen goes into the side pocket of your bag, you keep walking.
