"As strong as you were, tender you go. And watching you breath in, for the last time. A song for your heart, but when it is quiet. I know what it means, and I'll carry you home."
-Carry you home by James Blunt
The worst part is, Dean knows he's dreaming.
If he could just be blissfully unaware, and try to lose himself in this perfect world he created inside his head, maybe he could be happy. Maybe he could enjoy these stolen moments with Castiel. If only he was real. If only, when Dean woke up, Castiel would be lying next to him. But for now, he would accept the escape into the dreams.
This dream was one of the best he'd had in a while. Immediately after Castiel died, for about a week Dean had relived Castiel's final moments over and over again. Everytime exactly the same. He was always just a few seconds too late. The nameless fallen angel would stab him in the stomach, and then Castiel would die in Dean's arms. That was when Dean was at his weakest. He'd convinced himself that it was his fault. The question of 'what if' sat on his lips. What if I'd been faster. What if I'd woken up when he left. What if I'd tried harder to keep him. What if.
Tonight though, the dream was peaceful. Castiel was standing on a peir, looking out over a placid lake, his hands shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Dean smiled sadly and decided to loose himself in the dream, not worrying about the ache in his chest that would be sure to come when he awoke. He moved behind Castiel, and wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him tight, like he was afraid to let go.
He felt Castiel stiffen at first, then relax when he realised it was Dean. "Hello Dean." Dean could basically hear his smile in his deep voice. God he missed him. He missed him so much.
Without a second thought, Dean turned him around and hugged him tight, their chests pressed together. He wanted to breathe Cas in, memorise every curve of his body, inhale his scent, taste him.
Castiel was obviously surprised by Dean's sudden affection, but he didn't hestitate to return the embrace. "Are you feeling ok Dean?" He asked softly.
Dean nodded and buried his head into the curve of Castiel's neck. "I'm fine." He choked out, pressing his lips to Castiel's skin. Whenever he'd seen Castiel in dreams like this, where everything was peaceful and ok, he would distance himself, afraid of getting too close. If he got too close, he may never want to leave. It was too late for that now though. And for God's sake, he deserved some kind of closure. He knew that this dream would only end badly, but for now, he let himself enjoy Castiel.
Castiel pulled away, his eyes studying Dean's face. The eyes were one of the things Dean missed the most. He'd never been a romantic, but he often found himself falling head first into those bright blue eyes. They changed too. When he was angry, they would harden, and look more stormy gray than they did blue. And when he was laughing, the edges of his eyes would crinkle, and they would shine with life, almost too blue to be real. Right now, they were focused on Dean, and his eyebrows where pulled together in a concerned frown.
"You're sad." He said, no stated. Castiel had always been good at reading people when he was an angel, but it seemed that this trait had stayed with him, even as a human.
Dean didn't know what to say. Of course, Castiel was right, but he didn't want him worrying, even if he wasn't exactly real. "Cas, it's fine." He took a deep breath. "Can we just enjoy right now?" He asked.
Castiel's face smoothed over, his concerned expression being replaced by one of affection. "Of course." He said softly, and leant in towards Dean's face.
Dean's breath caught in his throat, and he brought his hands up to cup Castiel's face. He knew that if he kissed him, that would be it, it would ruin him. The dam would be broken, and he would spend all of his time just trying to return to this dream, just so that he could steal a few more minutes, just enough to hold Castiel, to be reminded of what he'd had.
"Wake up." He murmured under his breath, just before his lips collided with Castiels.
He awoke in his bed, and he couldn't stop the habit of reaching out the the other side. Empty, of course. Remember Dean? Cas is dead. Gone. You'll never have him here again. He reached for Castiel's pillow, and held it close to him. The dream was starting to fade, but the faint smell of Castiel left on the pillow brought it back to him. He couldn't decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.