The Coffee
Author's note: A short fic that came to my mind today. Kind of my way of coping with the season finale. Follows 6x22. Hope you enjoy it!
Spoiler warning: Spoilers up to episode 6x22.
He wasn't with Dean anymore.
It was now a fact, no matter how much he tried to fight against it. For some time now, Dean felt like being caught in an inner monologue:
Cas is gone.
- No, it can't be!
His denial sent a shiver across his back. Over the years, Castiel had become an ally, a friend and eventually even family to him. The fact that this relationship was gone now… it was a concept Dean couldn't grasp. In his head, it didn't make sense.
The diner was full of people that night. It had started raining a while ago and since then people were coming inside looking for shelter. The wet, rainy scent of their skin and their clothes mixed with the smoke of cigarettes.
Dean turned away from them, looking at the raindrops running down the window. Even though it was dusking outside, only the lights right above the bar were lit, leaving the diner in dismal twilight.
If everything were still alright, Cas would be sitting here at the table opposite him, serious, concentrated and maybe even a bit nervous around humans. Dean had been so sure Cas would keep these traits forever. He couldn't have known that forever would only be such a short time.
He could still hear him call his name, his confused voice.
Dean?
His imploring voice.
Dean.
His threatening voice.
Dean!
"Yes!" Dean looked up, angered, but he was still sitting there alone.
"Your order?" A waitress was standing next to him.
"Coffee", he murmured, before he could say vodka.
The raindrops kept running down the window.
Ever since Castiel had become part of his family, Dean had unwillingly assumed he would stay with them forever. A family bond that couldn't be broken. The possibility that Castiel could be gone someday hadn't even crossed his mind.
Not until a few days ago, at least. Ever since he had started doubting the angel, there had been this wall between them, the sudden feeling of being apart, even when they were standing so close to each other. He had started to accept the possibility then, the possibility that Cas could be gone someday, but that hadn't prepared him for that one moment.
That one moment that had affected Dean so deeply: The sharp, silver angel blade through Castiel's chest.
A few seconds before, Castiel had been standing there right in front of Dean, tall, proud, aloof. Dean had been so sure that he could get through to him, and almost… yes, almost...
"I would do anything you ask."
Yeah right. Where are you now then?
Then there had been Sam, doing the only right thing to do: stop the madness. Dean would have done the same. If it had been anyone but Cas.
The blade had cut so suddenly through his chest, so unexpectedly, and by doing so it had also cut right through Dean's heart. He had accepted the possibility that Cas could be gone someday, but he hadn't even thought of the possibility that Cas could die.
He had seen so many angels die, lying on the floor, cold and pale, large black wings burned into the ground with a last desperate sigh. He never, ever wanted to see Cas lying somewhere like that, an image that had hunted his dreams more often than he could remember.
Now, yesterday, for just one moment, it had almost become reality.
"Your coffee." The waitress put a cup on the table in front of him.
"Thanks." Dean didn't look at her. He took the spoon and started stirring the liquid.
He noticed the rain had stopped.
The blade though Castiel's chest had hurt himself more than it had hurt the angel. It had happened so fast, so unexpected. For one moment Dean had felt panic, horror even. He had been scared a decision could have been made that couldn't ever be taken back.
If Castiel had died, a friend would have died. A part of his family. A person he loved.
Castiel wasn't with Dean anymore. But at least he was alive.
Dean's thoughts went back to that night yet again, when he had lost more than a friend. A constant in his life. It would take a long time until he would be able to answer his inner monologue by saying, "Yes, that's true. He is indeed gone."
Would they meet again? Could he be saved? Dean didn't know. Thinking of ways to answer these questions hurt him, so he stopped.
That night back then, Dean had professed his love just like Castiel had demanded, but that love was worth so much less than the love Dean had already given him willingly.
And so he stirred his coffee one last time, then threw a few bucks on the table and left without even once touching the cup.