Title: Can I Open My Eyes?
Author: Avery (narrativeliving at livejournal)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fic. I own only my own angst and need to psychologically torture every character that I remotely relate to.
A/N: Chapter Four of Wings to the Wall is in progress, but as Legolyn was headed out of town for the weekend, I, Avery, decided to treat you all to a little angst I wrote a few weeks back. I hope you enjoy it.
Inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song "Cry". I highly recommend you listen to it while reading. You can find it here: .com/watch?v=LHa-7YY1vS4
Spoilers: 5x04 Future fic.
Warnings: Implied Dean/Cas, in the past.
There are certain things that, even at the end of the world, are apparent to people. Mostly things inside of themselves, such as hunger, thirst, loneliness or elation. Castiel knows all of these things. As more and more angels left the field of battle, and more and more of his divinity slipped away from him, he began to appreciate the human things. Pie was, of course, delicious, but what made it really mean something was the first time Dean Winchester shared his own piece with him. Sleep was wonderful, but better when Dean curled around him, breathing into his hair. Loneliness was the hardest to accept. The first time he'd been unable to hear his brother's voices, Dean had been there, telling him he didn't need the other angels, they were all they really needed, and Castiel believed him, and felt lonely no longer.
And when the world finally broke down, and Dean became the leader of the Last Outfit of Goodness, Castiel stood by his side, and even the Apocalypse could not mask his joy. Dean made it clear that Castiel was to be respected, and in turn, Castiel saw to it that everything ran smoothly, to lessen Dean's load. If someone needed something, they went to Castiel, who would see to it Dean was made aware, or take care of it himself. If Dean was angry, everyone stayed well out of his way, and trusted Castiel to bear the brunt of their leader's frustration. And no one went near Castiel's tent after a battle, because Dean would be there, losing himself in Cas's willing arms. They became almost one in the same. "Dean'n'Cas". The ex-angel had pull with their leader, and people accepted him, angel or not, because Dean respected him, and some days, even loved him. And Cas's unswerving loyalty gave Dean the strength he needed to keep going.
But their world had no room for happy endings, and as days went on, Dean slipped further and further away from his angel. It was a different feeling than the loss of Grace. When he'd begun to lose his divinity, it had felt like water, or blood, running out of him. It had filled him with despair, but Dean had held him through it, rocking him like a child, and soothing him with gentle whispers.
Losing Dean burned. It felt like his heart was being torn from his chest, and thrown to the dirt. And this time, there was no soothing hands, no soft whispers. Only cold green eyes that had once held so much love.
To watch Dean rush past him without a look or a nod, to have people ask him where to find Dean, and to have no answer, was painful, so much more painful than anything he had ever known. He had no word for it, but everyone could read it in his face. An angel with a broken heart is terrible to look upon, but no one, even Castiel himself, believed it would last.
But the first time he fell in battle, and Dean did not come to his aid, he knew what they'd had was really broken. That night in his tent, he felt a prickling behind his eyes, strange and unfamiliar. Before he knew it, there was moisture on his face. And as the night wore on, and there was no sign of Dean, Castiel began to sob.
