I've been a member of this lovely site for a couple of years now and I've had another account, where I've uploaded some of my stories. I'm not proud of them and I felt like making a new account. My writingstyle has changed, you decide if it's good or not, and I see this a new start. Anyhow: Enjoy this small piece and leave a review! You know how much we writers like them, haha.
"Cas?" No reply. "Cas?" No recognition. He was a sad sight, his hair a no longer-perfect mess, while his piercing blue eyes had lost its sparkle. It seemed the light had faded, like a candle had been blown out. Something had been taken away from him and Dean had no idea how to get it back, how to return it to his friend. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The broken body in front of him should be his, it was supposed to be him. A lost tear trickled down his cheek, but he was too tired, too occupied to dare and brush it away. He wouldn't acknowledge it was there, because there was no reason to cry. He croaked it again, "Cas?", miserably staring down upon him.
It was a sad attempt, but he knew how this stuff worked. As long as there were no credits, the movie wasn't finished. So Dean kept repeating the name, childishly rocking back and forth, while comforting himself by saying that this was just illusion. His friend was just sleeping. He would wake up. He could, any minute now.
But the moment never came. The beautiful blue eyes he was so used to seeing, every day, refused to glitter. They stayed empty, while the bloodied face remained blank and unmoved.
Dean had never seen so much blood before. Sure, he was used to seeing it, his stomach could handle it. But now... It was different, all of a sudden. His stomach churned, while he fought the disgusted bile that rose in his throat, as the sticky liquid covered his hands, his arms... He told himself to make a joke about this later, when Cas would wake up, perhaps make him laugh. "Cas!"
The dark alley was exactly what he'd imagined it to be. But his dream had turned out all wrong. It had twisted and turned into a horrible nightmare, because he was still here. Still breathing. And Cas was asleep.
He only had to wake him up. "Wake up, Cas." He whispered into the mirthless night, the energy slowly escaping his body, his fingertips slowly turning cold and numb. But the angel didn't move, not even one miserable fucking inch. Dean even felt his wings slowly fade away, the fluttering of wings had silenced, leaving only threatening and strangling quiet behind.
But it was Cas, so Dean didn't give up. Because Cas always came back, no matter what. He was everything Dean was not and he just wasn't supposed to be in this godforsaken alley. So Dean kept whimpering his name, shamelessly. Cas would come back, he only needed a little help. With a little help, Dean's angel would be fine.
The gaping wounds in his chest and arms had stopped bleeding. No longer did the crimson trickle down the once flawless skin, splashing onto the ground, while Dean watched, helplessly. The puddles of blood no longer rippled, whenever a new drop fell. Everything had fallen still.
And when Dean realized this, he stopped. He closed his eyes, tightly, shutting them for one, two, three seconds. Breathe in and out, inhale and exhale. And then he opened his eyes, his lashes thick with salty tears. Once more, the puddle rippled. This time grieving the loss of a brother, a friend. Dean cleared his throat, nodded, bravely and took two fingers to close the lifeless eyes of his companion, his angel.
"Go to sleep, Castiel." He mumbled, shushing him, silently, like a father would do to a child. "It's okay. Just go to sleep."