Come Back, Please.
There's a dull ache in Dean's chest. While the pain isn't exactly "real" Dean can feel the walls closing in. It's absolutely suffocating him. The last thing he wanted to do was send Castiel away with his tail between his legs. Castiel had just died and Dean had saved him with the help of Sam and Ezekiel. Dean had brought Cas back to the bunker only to kick him out within the few hours he had finally come home. Dean's lying to everyone around him. He's keeping secrets that are creating a heavy-weighing burden on his heart and shoulders and it's becoming more than he can bear. The male just lays there in his bed. His head rests on his pillow. He's got a thousand thoughts in his head – but there's just one that stands out to him; screaming, begging to be heard, to be carried out.
Dean swallows. His hand reaches over to the nightstand where he always places his phone before he goes to sleep. He stares at the screen of the phone. 11:30PM. It's pretty late. He wonders if Cas even kept the phone he had handed him when he left the bunker. It was the only thing Dean had sent him off with. Which, Dean admits to himself, was pretty damn shitty of him. Cas needs more than that to survive and he knows it. But hey, he's a tough customer, right? It's the only reason Dean was able to send him off the way he had. Cas had so much more of a chance of living compared to Sam's 0%. God, Dean hated choosing. Sam and Castiel meant everything to him and making him choose was a pretty fucked up thing to go through. Dean continues to stare at the phone. It isn't that hard to text someone. His fingers don't move. Dean gives another sigh – this one more irritated than the ones he had given before. It isn't hard. It just involves a few movements and bam he's got a text to send. He still doesn't move.
Fuck it, He thinks. Dean unlocks the phone and scrolls for Castiel's name. Finding it he clicks it with his thumb and selects the send message option. His fingers begin to type out a message.
Cas? Delivered, the phone says. Time passes. Ten minutes. Dean gets uncomfortable and sends another message, his mind racing as he does so.
Cas, I'm sorry. Again, no answer. Again, Dean sends a message.
I did this for a good reason. I promise you I'll make it up to you. Delivered.
Message after message he sends and they all say delivered. Each one contains variations of apologies and how he had fucked everything up and yet he's getting nowhere and that's the worst part. Dean knows Cas is probably pissed to the max with him. Hell, he has every right to be. He can even come back to the Bunker pissed for all Dean cares. He just wants his best friend back home and safe; because it doesn't feel like home without all of his family. He's got Sam and Kevin here and that's great. He wouldn't deny that. But there's something missing and Dean knows exactly what it is. He feels his head spinning. He's still getting no answers. Perhaps Cas is just really mad at him. Which, again Dean knows he can't blame him for. He just didn't expect him to be this pissed. An hour passes. All too quickly. Dean gives up, he knows what he wants to say now. He types the message out slowly and surely. Fuck what Ezekiel thinks, Dean is absolutely positive that tattoo was working. Sending Cas out is his worst idea ever. Dean's well aware.
Come home. I'm sorry. I fucked it up. I fucked us up. And I fucked a lot of other things up but if you come home I swear I'll find a way to make it up to ya. We've been through a lot together, right? Well what's to say we can't do this like any other thing we've been through.
He sends the message. His eyes close and his heart continues to race. The phone's face-down on his chest so he'll feel it vibrate if it rings. But it doesn't. It doesn't ring. Not even into the early morning hours does it ring. Dean can feel an unwanted tightness in his chest. He can only pray Cas is okay. Because if not, God help the soul who's hurt Castiel.
Because Dean Winchester will be coming for them.
Castiel stares at the puddle in slight distress. The one thing Dean had given him in order for him to survive has been totally trashed. He supposes the fact that most electronics constructed in this given time are made of cheap, easily breakable materials doesn't help either. But he doubts that even the best of the best could have made it. He plucks the small phone from the water and is scowling. It doesn't start up. It just flickers each time he tries until it finally dies out. Cas can't help but to feel slightly deflated. If that was even the proper word for his situation. Dean's kicked him out on his ass, his tail between his legs. Cas wasn't sure what was worse for him. He knows he's a liability. He knows he's everything he doesn't want to be – yet somewhere, beneath it all, a small sliver of him doesn't want to care. He just misses the people he called family. But if Dean didn't want him. Well, Dean didn't want him.
"S'not like the phone would have been put to good use anyways." Cas tells himself and he trudges through the rain. He flips up his hood of his jacket and tosses the phone into the trash. It's useless now he's got no need for it.
And you're useless. He thinks bitterly. It's true. He knows it is. Castiel is virtually useless now and due to a past of things like "baby in a trenchcoat" and "you were bad everything" on top of his mistakes he's completely sure that all he's done is mess up. Cas gets the message Dean wanted to send. Cas was useless and he couldn't do anything productive for the Winchesters anymore.
So Dean's got no use for you.