The barn was silent but for the low creak of aging wood and the occasional rustle of wind slipping through the cracks in the siding. Dust hung in the still air, disturbed only by the hurried footsteps of an angel falling from the sky.
Castiel didn’t know how he found Dean. He had only felt it—something yanked deep in his grace, a magnetic pull of worry and pain that led him here, to the outskirts of nowhere, into this forgotten place.
Dean was unresponsive. Cas found him lying on his stomach, body limp and twisted in a pitiful position on the barn floor. The sight might have bordered on absurdity, had it not been for the overwhelming flood of fear that crashed through Castiel’s vessel like a broken dam.
He dropped to his knees in front of Dean’s head, the trench coat whipping violently around them as though it too felt the panic. His hand found Dean’s cheek, trembling slightly as he turned his face gently toward him.
“Dean,” he whispered, breath barely catching in his throat. “Dean, please.”
There was no answer. No flutter of an eyelash, no groan of protest, not even the ghost of a sarcastic comment. Just the unbearable stillness.
Cas swallowed hard. The grace within him stirred, ancient and burning, already readying itself. He hadn’t done this in years.
He looked down at Dean, this human, the man who had always dragged him back from the brink, time and time again.
With a quiet, desperate breath, Castiel leaned in – and kissed him.
The moment their lips touched, Castiel let the floodgate open.
Grace poured from him in a searing wave, ancient and blue, slipping past the veil of mortality to wrap around Dean’s soul like fire meeting gasoline. The kiss deepened as Dean's chest jolted once, then again – his fingers twitching in the dirt, breath rasping in like it was the first he’d ever taken.
Cas cupped his face, kept kissing him, pouring everything he had into it.
And then Dean was kissing him back – clumsy and dazed, first. His hands reached up, weak but urgent, curling into the front of Castiel’s shirt like he was anchoring himself to the world again
When they finally parted, their foreheads pressed together, Dean’s eyes fluttered open.
“You kissed me,” he breathed, voice rough and raw.
Castiel stilled. “I poured some of my grace into–”
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