For Jo. Happy birthday 3

He felt the ground gave from underneath his feet. He felt the world shattering into a million pieces as he looked into Dean's eyes and saw the resignation, the fear, the weariness,... in that piercing green stare. He felt his heart clenching up so tightly, and he wondered whether it could ever truly burst open under the pressure, even though it was technically impossible for that to happen.

Castiel felt many things as he reached out and took hold of Dean's left hand, hanging onto to dear life as the cracks beneath their feet widening like a beast opening its big mouth, waiting to swallow them whole, consuming them and drowning them in oblivion forever.

Then, they fell.

It was what jerked Castiel up. The feeling of free falling.

He bolted upright from the bed, chest heaving, eyes wide and frantic, searching in the dark for something he couldn't quite give a name to.

But then a hand reached out and touched his shoulder, a deep, gruff voice echoed off the walls and into his eardrums and he relaxed. It was just a dream. It was all just a dream.

"Hey, hey,... It's alright, you're okay. None of it was real. I'm still here," he heard Dean said as the hand on his shoulder began to massage the tension away.

Cas didn't say anything. He just sat there for a moment, thinking back on the dream.

His dreams were always very creative. Various scenarios where he and Dean facing death and unlike before, in reality, giving into it. There was always a feeling of free fall. The feeling of how he fell. For Dean. And then there were those extremely rare ones where Dean dies and the only thing he could do was watch as it unfolds right in front of his eyes. Powerless to stop it. That was even worse than the free fall.

But it was all just a dream. All just a dream as Dean had said it was. A dream.

Castiel finally nodded, shifting to lay down the bed again, facing Dean. His hunter. His beautiful, wonderful, courageous, selfless, caring, kind,... human. His everything.

Staring into those green irises, even in the dark, Cas could make out the love, the adoration, the fierceness in them. It made his heart swells. No one on this Earth will ever be as beautiful as Dean Winchester. The hunter, the righteous man, the one who made Castiel fall.

"I love you, Dean," he said, his hand coming up to touch Dean's face, feeling the stubble tickling his palm. It was a nice feeling.

"I know," Dean smiled sadly at him.

Cas smiled back and moved closer to him, slinging his arm across Dean's torso and pulling him close with his head tucked under Dean's chin. The position made Cas felt safe. He felt protected. With Dean close to him and his arms around him, he felt as if there was nothing that they couldn't get through. Not even when Heaven brainwashed him to turn him into one of their good little soldiers. Not even when they tried to stop him from falling. Not even when they tried to kill Dean afterwards and drag him back to heaven for re-education. They were invincible.

"Dean," he said.

"Hmm?" He asked sleepily.

"Tell me a story."

Dean just chuckled and spoke: "Alright. I think you're gonna like this one."

Cas smile at the teasing not in Dean's voice.

"There once was an angel who raised a righteous man from perdition.. And the righteous man, you see, he didn't know that angels existed back then so when they first met, he shot the angel many, many times. He even stabbed him in the chest! But the angel, thank God, didn't die. Instead he -" And so it went, Dean told Castiel their love story, whispering it quietly in the dark like it was some trade secret he didn't dare let out as Castiel focused on his words, listening to the deep, quiet and soothing sound and letting it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Wrapped around by Dean's arms, hearing his words ringing in his ears as he slipped further and further into oblivion, he felt safe. Content. Loved. At home.

It was the alarm clock that woke him up.

Cas woke with a start, his eyes shot open like a freight train before remembering last night, smiling softly at the memory and turning onto his side, awaiting to see Dean's familiar features in front of him, to see him rubbing his eyes groggily and to see him turn to Cas and say "good morning".

But what he was met with was blank space. Nobody was there. Nobody.

Castiel stared numbly at the empty sheets. He reached out a hand and ran it up and down the sheets to feel that it was cold. So cold. As if nobody had even slept between them the night before.

But that wasn't quite correct. Dean was with him. Dean told him a story about how an angel fell for a human. Dean held him in his arms and whispered to him. Dean was there.

And now he isn't.

But then Cas remembered.

Dean was killed.

Many months ago.

By Heaven.

Who were looking for Cas to bring him back. He was on the run.

Sam's dead, too. He couldn't deal with the fact that his brother was gone.

Everyone who mattered to him was gone. Dead. Deceased.

It was just him now.