And when our hearts unfold
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 6.22
-I-
It's a love story for a new age—"National Anthem" by Lana Del Rey
"All of this, I do all of this for you."
Nothing is certain, not in the mortal world, this place where death is just a heartbeat away. Nothing is certain but people try to make it that way, humans with all their flaws trying to make it so, desperate, dying creatures so lovely in the time that passes. So lovely, so tragic.
Dean Winchester only has one life to live. All living creatures know this, animals, humans and angels. Death is a figure that hovers, hovers, until a time fate decrees and then it is over, just like that. Castiel knows this. He has been born to accept this.
But he cannot.
For Dean Winchester, he cannot.
Angels accept that death must come to all those who are mortal, but God does not. God makes His own rules, and mortals can become immortal with just a thought. For the life of Dean Winchester, this is what the angel Castiel becomes. A monster or a God—such a thin line between the two—Castiel does not become God for just anyone, no, no. Even if his intentions appear good…
Castiel knows what it means to be selfish, and he's not about to give Dean up to anything, not even Death.
"This will destroy you both in the end, no matter how strong you become," Anna told him once, too long ago now, as she stared up at the stars. "It will destroy you."
But what is destruction?
Castiel used to know what it was; now he only knows how to cause it and absolve it. A thing, like all others, that bends to his will, destruction is his to utilize and for Dean, for Dean—
"We will have eternity," Castiel says as the world creaks, as the humans look on at him in horror, in awe. Sam Winchester looks sick. Bobby Singer looks terrified. And Dean Winchester—
"For you, Dean Winchester, I give you eternity as mine, and mine alone."
Dean looks at him like he expected it, but his eyes are sad and lost. But never mind that; Castiel is God now, and God will erase that look from his face. When he kisses Dean—finally, finally—there is the taste of ashes somewhere between the slide of tongues and Dean's touch on his chest, a single hand as though to push him away, is so cold.
"You can't deny me anything," Castiel tells him as he moves inside of the human body, so breakable beneath him. It is not the revelation it should have been. "You are mine." It is a universal fact now, seen in the bruises that mar Dean's body, bruises the shapes of hands on his hips. Hidden worlds and wonders in those dark marks, constellations for the new age, Castiel's age.
Dean bows his head as though he is praying, but Castiel doesn't hear it over the sound of flesh on flesh on flesh.
Outside, the sky is so light it hurts, the clouds like splinters, the world a slow moving decay of love.
-I-