#whelvenwings fic

[whelvenwings]

a coda. because WHATEVER

Castiel comes to him when it’s over and not before.

After the blood and the drive and the rushing of the water under the bridge, that’s when Castiel comes to him. 

Before that, Castiel waits. He holds steady. He goes to Earth - does the little things that are missing now that Dean isn’t there. Castiel hunts now and again. Like he always has done, Castiel helps.

And when it’s over, and not before, Castiel comes to Dean.

“So,” Dean says. “Took you a while.”

“I wanted to wait,” Castiel says.

“Right. I, uh. I missed you.”

Castiel says nothing. He isn’t sure how, or exactly why, he was missed. The peace inside him, the happiness, that’s been easy and calm since he last spoke to Dean - it’s stirring and humming inside him. Something about the look on Dean’s face is confusing. He doesn’t look stoic or conflicted, but he doesn’t look happy, either. He looks - it takes Castiel a moment to place it. 

Dean looks hopeful.

What could Dean be hoping for in Heaven? He has everything he could wish for. Everything he could dream.

“Cas,” Dean says, and then repeats, “I missed you.”

“I...” Castiel swallows. “I missed you, too.”

Dean’s eyes are searching Castiel’s. They’re standing in Heaven and somehow it’s suddenly not enough for either of them, not even with the walls all fallen. They’re looking at each other and Castiel wishes, wants, desperately hopes, and it seems - it seems almost within reach, and yet impossible, and -

“Cas,” Dean tries again. “Cas, what you said. Before. That...” He looks away, down at the ground, and then he breathes out a little hard, and says, “Look, would you just get over here.”

There’s a little space between them. Castiel crosses it in three steps.

“Better,” Dean says. And then he reaches out and, clumsy, he takes Castiel’s hand. 

Castiel holds it.

“Better,” Dean says.

[whelvenwings]

another fix-it coda to 15x20 and this one throws canon out into the garbage where it belongs

It’s in his heart. He’s dead. Dean can feel it. Of course, it’s in his heart.

Dean thinks about how he knew it would end like this. Knew it’d be his stupid goddamn heart that got him, one way or another. Hadn’t thought it’d be this literal, maybe, but here he is. And he thinks about how he always knew he’d die on a hunt. He knew, right? 

That’s why, when he looks at Sam, Dean holds it together. He speaks clearly. He tries not to let any of the heartbreak show on his face.

This is okay, he thinks. This has to be okay. He’s been okay with this ending once. He can be okay with it again. The way his future is crumbling around him - he has to be okay with it. There’s no way out. This is where he was always headed.

Shit, he thinks, this hurts. The dying part never gets easier. At least this is the last time he’ll have to do it. His brother looks distraught. 

Inside, Dean wavers. He wanted to go for more walks with the dog. He wanted to see more places just for himself, not for the sake of killing monsters. He wanted more life. He wanted more time.

Sam’s talking and Dean answers but he can feel his body failing him and he’s not sure he’s saying the right things. He asks for it to be okay. He needs it to be okay. If Sam says it, then it can be true. Sam opens his mouth to reply. But it’s another voice that says,

“No.”

Sam swings around, reaching for a weapon. But Dean’s shaking body goes still at the sound of that voice. He knows that voice. And beyond Sam, he can see another face. Someone coming out of the shadows and into the light. Blue eyes blazing, determined. Jaw set.

“No,” Castiel says. “Not like this.” Sam’s knife drops to his side. Castiel steps forward, and puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Not like this,” he says again. “Not for you.”

“C-” Dean tries, but Castiel is drawing him forward, away from the rusted point of the nail, and healing him at the same time. Dean’s breath is lost and he can’t finish the word until he’s free. “Cas,” he says. He takes a breath. He’s looking at Castiel. Castiel is in front of him. Castiel saved him. “Cas. You’re alive?”

“Thank God,” Sam says. He’s stepped away, still pale, giving Castiel and Dean a little space.

“Jack came for me,” Castiel says, like it’s nothing, a distraction. He still has his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean can feel grace crackling over his skin, searching for any lingering injury.

“Cas,” he says. “I’m - shit, man, I’m okay. You really... I thought I was... I thought I was gone. I thought you were gone. Holy crap, man, I thought that was it for us.” He reaches up, and puts his hand over Castiel’s. When Castiel’s face shifts, Dean tightens his grip, holding Castiel’s hand properly. He can feel his heart pounding. His living, beating heart, the heart that remembers Castiel’s last words to him.

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand. And Dean knows, when he looks at Castiel - knows that he wasn’t destined to end up dead on a hunt in some godforsaken wherever. No, he thinks, no, man, no. He wrecked that destiny, on purpose, a long time ago. He made his own choices. Tore up that script. He gave himself a different life, a better life than that. He can feel the love that led him out of the maze, thudding inside him, when he looks into Castiel’s eyes.

It’s in his heart, and he’s going to live for it. Dean can feel it. It’s in his heart.