I love you.
The words floated in the air.
Bliss.
"But, I want a baby"
Cas' eyes opened wide, as an angel, there was no limit to his power but as a human male there were many, starting with the wrong reproductive system.
"I can't change bodies anymore" Cas responded looking straight into Dean's eyes.
"I know" Dean looked down into his looped hands. "I want sons, possibly a daughter,"
Dean looked back at Castiel.. "I want a nuclear family, the mom, dad and two-point-five kids, maybe even a dog" Castiel felt his heart break, his eyes rounded out, his face troubled. "Am I not fit to be a parent?" Was it because he felt no sympathy for. For. What was her name? Chloe? Carol?
Claire.
Cas looked terrified. Angels were never meant to become parents, they had one just father but were never meant to have a family of their own. They were never meant to fall in love with a human or forgiven for choosing to stay.
His mouth clamped shut and he lost his voice. Castiel found that he could no longer look at him.
He felt Dean's hand fall on his shoulder but he shuddered at his touch. "Listen Cas"
"No."
Castiel rose from his seat on the couch,
"Cas!"
He heard Dean cry out behind him, his pretty face torn, tears flooding his field of vision.
Castiel slammed the door of their hotel room and strode to his stolen truck, the gravel and sand rose around him as he made his way through the parking lot and pulled the ancient door open which welcomed him with a screech and booked it.
Van Halen played loudly on the radio, playing but interrupted by static.
He didn't know where he was going but he couldn't stay where he was.
What was Dean thinking? After all he had done, after all they'd gone through and after the trial of convincing his father of allowing him to stay with Dean, he decided to rethink his plans of repopulating the earth?
There must be something else.
The road was bumpy, the golden humanoid amulet Dean had once left in the trash of a hotel room swung back and forth on the rear view mirror. Castiel eyed the pendant and sighed.
"Dear Lord," He began, He hadn't prayed before, he knew to communicate, he knew thought would work just as well, but he needed to be reverent.
He wanted to show respect.
He waited until he was just outside of the Oklahoma/ New Mexico border, this was of no significance, it didn't mean anything, there was no ritual in which to reach heaven louder, or more clearly. He just need to be away from Dean and to be alone, all focus on his prayer.
He parked in between the two state signs on the side of the road. He wandered out of the truck, past the metal fence and into the dusty field clustered with wild grass.
He kept walking until he could no longer see his truck in the distance and kept walking until his legs began to ache.
He knelled down, a cool breeze grazed Castiel's back and he waited, waited for his mind to cool down, to be quiet, he waited for nothing and everything but mostly he waited for a sign to begin.
The moment came, he closed his eyes, placed palms together to his sternum and began to pray.
He attempted to anyways.
A tear rolled down his cheek and he allowed himself the vulnerability he never had and the one he refused to show in front of Dean.
His heart was breaking ten fold and it was apparent, he felt his world was ending, not felt, he could've sworn it was.
He lowered his weight on to the balls of his feet.
"Dear Heavenly Father," He began, "I thank you for this day and thank you for all that you've done for me. I've come to you in a vulnerable state for understanding and possible guidance. The man I rebelled for, admired and loved has forsaken me for the possibility of a wife and child. I pray until you to for comfort. Please father. I need your help."
He was desperate.
He didn't want to fight to convince Dean to love him as he loved Dean, He didn't want to hurt him or yell. He wasn't angry, just . . .
b
r
o
k
e
n
.
A gust of wind rose, circling around him, he opened his eyes and relaxed his strained posture, allowing his arms to fall to his side. The more he looked around the more erratic it became until it seemed as though he was trapped in the eye of a tornado.
He was used to divine intervention but only when it came to killing or reviving him.
He jumped to his feet and prepared for the worst.
Maybe this was O.K, he had no need to live.
He felt something slap him, hard.