[A/N]: I never planned on writing something like this, but here I am. Also, a note, I haven't seen the episodes with Demon!Dean yet. This is just a story I wrote while watching the middle of Season Eight.
White. White represented good. White was the color of Dean Winchester's soul when Castiel first saw him in hell, despite the fact that he was there in the first place. White like the soul of Jimmy Novak, his vessel. White, that reminded him of heaven. White was a color associated with heroes. With the good guys.
Grey. Grey was indecision. Grey was wrestling with right and wrong, with choosing a side. Grey was the color of the sky the day he rebelled against Zachariah, his superior. Grey was an angel blade hidden in his pocket, capable of destroying one of his brothers or sisters. Grey was the color of secrets and avoiding the truth.
Yellow. Yellow was warmth and acceptance. Yellow was sunshine and the lights at Bobby Singer's house. Yellow was the color of the pages him skimmed through, helping Bobby translate the dead languages in the middle of the night. Yellow was contentment and calm.
Orange. Orange was holy fire in a circle surrounding him, blocking all chance of escape. Orange was feeling trapped. Orange was the reflection of flames on Dean's face as he insulted Raphael, one of the most powerful archangels in heaven. Orange was nervousness.
Blue. Blue was hope. Blue was the color of his vessel's eyes. Blue was the tie that hung around his neck, and Jimmy's favorite color. Blue was his Grace, burning bright but slowly fading. Blue was Bobby Singer's hat, the one that Dean still kept in the trunk of his car. Blue was remembrance.
Purple. Purple was the sky at dusk when the Winchesters drove all night and he watched over them. Purple was early mornings, right before the sun came up; early mornings that Dean hated. Purple was that one shirt Sam wore that Dean always threatened to burn, but never did.
Brown. Brown was Dean's leather jacket, the one that belonged to his father. Brown was the beer bottle or liquor Dean always had in his hand. Brown was the trees' trunks in purgatory. Brown was the mud on the edge of the lake where the leviathan had forced him to walk in. Brown was the sediment on the lake floor, and the last thing he remembered before closing his eyes.
Green. Green was Earth's vegetation. Green was Dean's eyes, light when they were laughing at something that he didn't understand or dark when looking at him in disappointment and betrayal. Green was his favorite color, for reasons he didn't quite understand.
Red. Red was blood. Red was pulling Dean out of hell, fighting thousands of demons. Red was the demon blood Sam was addicted to when Castiel first met him. Red was the blood on Dean's face while Castiel punched him mercilessly, not raising a hand to defend himself. Red was the blood Dean spit into his hand, pain on his face. Red was desperation. Red was fear. Red was helplessness. Red covered Dean as he whispered his last words and his breathing stopped.
Black. Black was the strongest emotion Castiel had ever felt. Black was grief. Black was the color of Dean's car, his most prized possession. Black was life without the oldest Winchester. Black was loneliness. Black was the color he wore when they buried Dean. Black was feeling empty. Black was the eyes of the demons that he smote for revenge, but it never filled the void. Black was the eyes of the man who stood before him, a smirk he knew so well on his face.
"Hello, Castiel."
Black was feeling your whole world crumble under your feet.
[A/N]: This writing style is a bit different from my usual, but I may be using it more often. Please tell me what you think of the story.
