AN: So, I decided to finally post my first story after reading other stories on Fanfiction for years and writing a few for my own enjoyment. The fact that this is a destiel story is really strange because I typically don't ship it, although I do feel like it's most likely to become cannon. Anyway, this whole story is based off of one line in Taylor Swift's song, 'Last Kiss'. I got a minor idea, took it, and ran. I love the song and listened to it while writing the first part of this story. I would highly recommend listening to it. It's on Youtube. The line that inspired this was: "I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep." You can probably guess how I got that. Oh, and, just so you know, the hurt/comfort part doesn't come up until close to the end.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural :(
I'm not a perfect writer. Constructive criticism is welcome, but be nice to my first published work, please! No beta, all mistakes are purely mine.
Warnings: Slash, self-harm, almost-suicide (I guess…), angst, mild violence/torture
It started with Cas waking up alone and leaving the motel room he shared with Dean to see if Dean was in Sam's room. He and Dean had started getting a room separate from Sam's, not only so they could do what they pleased, but also so that Dean could say what he pleased, because it was only Cas who he would allow to see his soft, mushy, almost vulnerable side as he whispered 'I love you' into the dark.
Cas had soon found a note on Sam's bed alerting him to the fact that they had heard of a hunt nearby and would return in a few days. The note should have set off warning bells, because it wasn't like them to leave him behind, and the note had been in Sam's handwriting instead of Dean's. Cas wouldn't accept that things were wrong though, so he accepted the note and went back to his room to await their return. He tried not to allow himself to sink into the empty feeling of self-doubt, but all he could think about was why they had left him behind. The only reason he could come up with was that they didn't think he was capable enough for whatever hunt it was. He wouldn't allow himself to think that Dean just wanted to get away from him, although Dean never once called.
A week after Cas woke up alone, he got a call from Sam telling him that they had been led to another hunt a few states over and wouldn't be back for a while. Cas asked if he could talk to Dean. Sam told him that Dean was in the shower. Cas couldn't – wouldn't – believe that there was something off about Sam calling him while Dean was in the shower instead of the other way around. He told Sam to give Dean his regards before they hung up.
It was a month after Cas had last seen Dean before he finally got a call from the man himself rather than his younger brother. When Dean's caller ID had come up, Cas had been thrilled. When he'd answered the phone and heard Dean's voice, instead of feeling the rush of happiness as he expected, he felt apprehension. Something was wrong in Dean's voice when he said, "Hey Cas." Not 'hey sweetheart' or 'hey sexy' or any of his other usual greetings. Soon Cas knew why. "Cas, listen. I want you to know that you were one of the best things to ever happen to me. What I'm about to do is not your fault." There was a pause and Cas braced himself. "I… we… this isn't working anymore. Cas, I could give you a thousand excuses, but it's not gonna change anything. I just can't…" He could hear Dean taking a breath over the phone as he abandoned one line of conversation for another. "Our relationship is over Cas. We aren't going to be together anymore, and I think it would be best if we didn't see each other at all ever again. I'm sorry, and this might be the hardest thing I've ever had to do because I do love you, but what we had is over now." There was so much pain in Dean's voice when he said that, but Cas didn't pay attention to that. All he heard then were the words.
"Wait," Cas had said, feeling like he might be about to cry. "If this is so hard, and you still do love me, why are you doing this?" He couldn't control the desperation in his voice as he tried to fight for the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"Please don't ask me to explain. Just remember, I do love you." That was the last thing Dean had said before he hung up. Cas had immediately collapsed onto the floor, the cell phone dropping from his shaking hand as tears slid down his cheeks. What had just happened?
The next few days Cas spent in deep thought, which always brought him closer to spiraling out of control the longer he continued to think. He thought about the last time he'd seen Dean, unaware it was the last time they'd be wrapped in each other in the dark, kissing each other softly; the last time he'd look into Dean's beautiful green eyes and lose himself in them only to be brought out by Dean saying his name, amusement in his voice. He remembered times he would be talking to Sam in the bunker and Dean would saunter into the room, kissing him in the middle of a sentence. Sam had always made a face, and so had Cas, but Cas had secretly loved when Dean did that. He never would again. Cas briefly wondered if this would be what it would feel like if Dean had died. No, he decided, Dean's death would be worse. At least now he might be able to call Sam up occasionally on the ruse of asking information for a hunt – because what else would he do with his life but hunt – and hearing Dean's voice in the background, asking who was on the phone. He wondered what Sam would say.
He found himself one day sitting against the wall a corner of the motel room, not a weapon near him, just curled with his knees to his chest and wearing one of the shirts Dean had left behind. He almost wished something would come into the room and kill him. He felt like there was nothing left for him. Dean had loved him and now he was gone. But Dean had said he still loved him. This was the hardest thing he had ever done. So why had he done it? Cas felt the now familiar tears on his cheeks once again.
The next time he was conscious he realized he was saying Dean's name. The realization that he'd cried himself to sleep and then began to dream about Dean hit him hard. Now, not even sure what he was thinking, he went over to his duffle and pulled out the silver knife he kept there. He began to drag it down his left wrist, not going deep enough to hit any veins just yet, but definitely deep enough sting. He understood now that there wasn't much left for him. He would never be able to love someone else as deeply as he had Dean. He would never even see Dean again. Though he had thought of calling Sam just to hear Dean's voice distantly, he told himself it would only make things worse because Dean would refuse to talk to him.
He would never again feel Dean against him, never look into those eyes again, never watch him sleep as he once had as an angel before he had needed sleep himself, never kiss Dean's perfect lips again. The smell of Dean was slowly fading from the shirt he had left behind, and soon all that he had left of Dean would be gone. There was no going back to heaven now – not as he used to anyway – no mission and no Winchesters, so there was nothing at all. Time to end the heartache, he decided. He was on his third cut, still not going deep enough to kill himself yet as he thought of how 'out of the blue' it was for Dean to change his mind about their relationship when the thought hit him.
Maybe this wasn't what it appeared to be. Forgetting his grief, forcing himself to think objectively for the first time in days, he recognized something was wrong with this whole scenario. The last time he'd seen Dean, things had been great. Then he had just left, just like that. It wasn't like Dean, not at all. Comprehension flooded his consciousness and he felt like the most supreme idiot of all time. Sam and Dean had been taken a month ago, and there was no way to know if they were still okay, or what they were going through, or what had taken them, or why, or where, but he knew he had to find out or else he would never forgive himself for letting something happen to them. He just didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. If he was right, he was sure Dean or Sam or both would berate him for it later, and he wasn't sure if that was what he wanted or not – either Dean was safe but wanted to never see him again, or Dean wanted to see him again but his life was in danger.
Deciding he could figure that out later, he put a bandage on his self-inflicted wounds, put on his over coat, and walked himself to the library. Finding a computer in the back while yet mourning the fact that Sam's was gone, he somehow managed to get a program running and put a trace on Dean's cell. The signal was coming from a small town in Nebraska. It was a start. If he was wrong and Dean was perfectly safe, then he would accept the punches that might be thrown. He wasn't willing to be in doubt about Dean's safety though. He just wasn't.
AN: So, is Cas just desperate for Dean to still love him, or is he right about him and Sam being taken?