Supernatural – Destiel – Just a Chance
Dean hated this place. It was like a god damn prison. Hell, there was no 'like' about it. This place was a prison, complete with psychos and nut-jobs, some drooling, some screaming, and others completely unaware that their shit shouldn't be used as paint. They all nearly look alike with those white gowns on though. Could have blended into the walls if the brick wasn't painted a few shades too yellow. No sane person should ever step foot here, but here Dean was, trudging through the halls of this well manned psych-ward, following the only demon he wouldn't shank with the glorified demon hunting knife. He kept close to that auburn hair but didn't keep an eye on it. Instead, his green hues darted from side to side, looking for his reason for stepping into this building to begin with.
His so-called demon friend, Meg, phoned them hours ago, telling Dean and Sam to drive their asses all the way back because Castiel wanted to see him. So, they did. Took them all afternoon, but they made it. And now that he was here, regretting each step. His stomach lurched, heart tightening in his chest. A lump was already building in his throat. He tried to force it out with a swallow, but it lingered, taunting him.
Suddenly, Meg stopped walking. Dean managed to take a step back before he ran into her. She turned, facing the door just to their left. "This is it." Dean only stared at the off-white paint over the metal. He couldn't even get himself to look through the glass pane. His hands clenching at his sides as he tried to steady his still racing heart. Really, he didn't want to go in. Part of his mind begged him not to. But Meg turned and looked at him, that usual smirk void from her face. "Well sunshine? You gonna go in?" It was like an invitation back to hell. Dean glared at her, then turned fully to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.
Painted just like the hallway, only this room came with a white sheeted bed and one barred off window. Nothing to look at, really. To be honest, Dean wasn't expecting much of anything else. Castiel was seated on the bed, back to him, that white psycho-gown looking more like a wall than anything else here. Dean hesitated and swallowed once before shutting the door behind him.
"Cas?" His voice thundered across the room. Dean half-expected Castiel to jump. Instead, he merely turned, those blue eyes connected with Dean's green ones. Dean immediately felt his heart wrench tight. The sparkle of those blue hues was gone, replaced with the custard glow of the artificial light above. The angel's skin paled in Dean's absence, nearly mirroring the color of that gown. It only made those reddened lips and dark circles around Castiel's eyes stand out more.
"You came," Castiel muttered.
"Yeah," Dean answered, "Meg said it was urgent." Blue eyes drifted away, shoulders stiffened, reddened lips pressed together in a fine line. Dean's brow furrowed, mouth opening to speak, but the angel cut him off.
"I've found a way to get rid of Lucifer." Dean's heart eased a little, a smile picking up the corner of his lips.
"Great! Then let's get started a get that bastard out of your he-"
"I must die."
Dean stopped. He forgot how to breathe as his heart clenched, the deep ache nearly killing him. Die? No way. This wasn't happening. He lost enough people, he wasn't about to lose Castiel as well. Dean shook his head, taking a quick breath in, his eyes shifting anywhere but towards the angel. "No, that's not going to happen."
"Dean-"
"I'm not letting you die, Cas." Eyes met again. Blue fought with green in silence before Dean tore his eyes away again. "There's got to be another way."
"It is the only way." Silence. "I'm sorry, Dean. I asked Meg to call because I wanted to say goodbye."
Dean closed his eyes, trying to search for words through that frantic mind. If he didn't say the right things here, he could lose Castiel forever. There would be no miracles. No one would save him now. Just Dean.
"You can't die." The words came out weak. His hands clenched, a string of swear words coursing through his head. That wasn't going to be good enough.
"Plenty of angels have died in the past. It is merely-"
"You can't." Dean looked over at Castiel finally, his voice rising in volume. He could feel all of his fear pour into his words, but he tried to keep them together. He couldn't fail here. "After all this time, I believed you would come back, and now you're giving up?"
"I'm not giving up."
"Then what the hell are you doing?" Dean was losing it now. Each word shook with fear and tension. Tears glassed over his green eyes, leaving Castiel a blurry mess. His heart jumped into his throat, joining that lump in a feeble attempt to shut him up, but there was no way he was quitting. "You're not even giving me and Sam a chance to save you. You're just doing whatever the hell you want and leaving us out. Again."
"If there was another option-"
"Let us find one!"
"There isn't one."
Silence hovered between them again. Dean couldn't find the words. His lips pressed together painfully as Dean jerked his eyes away, turning his back on Castiel as he tried to regain his composure. "Dean, believe me. If there was another option, I would inform you. I do not want to die. I do not want to leave you. But Lucifer is here, inside me, and I can take him with me. The world will be without him. It will be a far better place."
Dean closed his eyes again, a tear escaping. This couldn't be happening. This angel, his angel, was leaving him. Saying goodbye. Castiel was giving up. Any sensible person would cave, wouldn't they? They would just let the angel die and take the devil with him. It was logical. But Dean felt he sacrificed enough for this and regardless of what Castiel said, he wasn't about to give in. He opened his eyes and turned back around, wiping the tear away.
"I'm not giving up on you. There's got to be some way to get that sick bastard out of your head without you dying."
"There isn't."
"What makes you so sure?" Their eyes connected again. He could see those blue eyes wavering now. That custard glimmer from the light was met with a little white dancing near the pupil. Dean felt his heart lift a little. Hope. There was still hope. Maybe Castiel would hang on. "Are you just that desperate to die? Do you hate yourself so much that you'd be willing to take your own damn life?"
"It is not a matter of hate."
"Then what is it?"
"It's for the best."
"The best? There's no 'best' here. It's just you and your lack of willpower."
"Dean, I-"
"No, Cas. I didn't hang on to that damn coat because of the memories. I kept it so I could give it to you. To show you that I forgive you. To let you know that, despite everything you did, I wanted you back. And this is how you repay me? By giving up and taking your life so Lucifer could die with you? Do you just not believe that me and Sam can help you? Is that what this is? A lack of trust?"
"No."
"Then what the hell is it? What the hell makes you think that I would just give up on you?"
"I'm suffering."
A heavy silence fell between them. That hope Dean held now faded away. That white reflection dancing in those eyes wasn't showing his change of mind – it revealed his agony. They were begging him, pleading for an end. Even when those blue hues fell away, Dean could feel that pain ripple through him. "Being connected to Lucifer like this... it is very unpleasant. This way, I can be free of this pain and Lucifer will no longer walk the earth. It is... the only option."
Dean's mind ran in circles, trying to search for the right words, the key words. Instead, he fell on one thing – his trip to hell. Castiel pulled him out then, but it came too late. Dean gave up on the unrelenting agony and tortured others. Part of him even enjoyed it, deep down, and it killed him. He became a monster. Could that happen to Castiel? Could he die and be thrown into a situation far worse? Castiel dealing with Lucifer like this must be as close to hell as anyone could get on earth. Even for an angel, it must be agonizing. But he couldn't let Castiel die and not know what happened after that. No way. He had to save him from Lucifer, not make them both die.
"Is it really the only one or just the quickest?" Dean asked.
Castiel didn't answer. Dean watched him for a moment before walking to the bed and taking a seat next to him. Those blue eyes didn't meet him. In fact, they seemed to look anywhere but Dean. Still, Dean spoke, knowing the angel would hear him. "I get it, Cas. I've been in hell. I know what it's like to suffer with seemingly no end, but you're not giving us a chance to help you." Those blue eyes still didn't connect. Dean hesitated a moment before dipping his head low, trying to catch at least a small glance. Nothing. Dean straightened up and peered over at that pale hand lingering on the sheets next to him. Slowly, he reached, his tanned fingers cupping over those chilled ones. He watched those eyes flicker over to their hands.
"It's okay, Cas."
Finally, those blue eyes flickered up. Dean could see the light return a little, that usually stare nearly his again. "I know it's hard, but I'll always be there when you call. Don't let that douche bag tell you otherwise." Dean could see tears shimmer over those eyes before they jerked away again.
"I don't deserve your support."
"Don't start that crap."
"But-"
"No. Just don't." Silence fell between them. Then Castiel leaned in, head tipping, resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean let his hand tighten around those pale fingers as the other reached, fiddling with loose strands of dark hair.
Castiel winced against him, drawing closer. Dean pulled back enough to that face scrunch, eyes screwing shut, lips trembling. A gasp escaped the angel's mouth as Castiel's free hand reached up, clenching against Dean's shirt. Dean ran his hand through Castiel's hair and gave him a slow, comforting kiss on the forehead. "It's okay," he whispered, letting his other thumb run over the angel's hand. A quick shiver ran through that pale skin before Castiel eased against him, face relaxing, hand loosening. Dean watched those blue eyes open, hand pressing against Dean's chest. Silence followed, but it was only momentary.
"I can feel your heart beat," Castiel muttered, fingers lingering over the fabric of Dean's shirt, "It's very reassuring." Dean watched him for a moment before pulling his hand away from Castiel's hair and digging into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone.
"Here." Castiel looked at it for a moment before taking it from Dean's hand. "It'll work just like the last one did, but you won't have to worry about minutes. Our phone numbers are programmed into it. If you need anything, call. If we're not in the middle of fighting, we'll pick up." Castiel nodded against Dean's shoulder, running his fingers over the cell phone buttons. After a second, Dean kissed Castiel's forehead again, running his hand through that unruly hair one last time. "We'll find a way to make you right again, I promise. Just hang in there."
Castiel nodded again and leaned away from his shoulder, giving Dean the opportunity to stand. He took it, but didn't slip his hand away. Not yet. He edged in front of Cas and leaned towards him, catching those blue eyes, which mirrored a tentative confusion, that brow furrowing, lips slacking a little. Slowly, Dean leaned in and took those lips with his own. It only lasted a second, but he could feel his emotions slip through. Everything that needed to be said was put into that light touch. When he pulled away, it looked like a little more color returned to Castiel's face. Those blue eyes widened on him, flicking between his green ones.
"I'll come back for you."
With one last brush of his thumb, Dean pushed back and walked to the door, his heart attempting to pull him back to the bed.
"Dean." He hesitated and looked back. Those blue eyes immediately connected with his. "Thank you." Dean gave a light smile and nodded.
"Yeah."
The light twitch of Castiel's lips and piercing eyes told him all he needed. He opened the door and walked out in the hall. Meg was gone, and with it was an odd sense power. He was going to get Castiel free from Lucifer, if it was the last thing he ever did.