In the Stillness

The church was silent now, the only sound the soft drip of rainwater leaking through the roof. Dean and Castiel stood together in the stillness, their breaths mingling in the cool air, their hearts still pounding from the intensity of the moment.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The kiss they'd just shared was still buzzing in his veins, a warmth that pushed away the cold of the storm outside. He looked at Castiel, who hadn't moved away, and felt an unfamiliar yet welcome sense of peace settle over him.

"We should, uh…" Dean started, though he wasn't sure what to say. There was a hunt to finish, and then there was… whatever this was between them. Whatever it was becoming.

"Check the place out," Castiel finished for him, his voice as calm as ever. But there was something in his eyes, a softness that hadn't been there before, and it made Dean's heart ache in a way he wasn't used to.

"Right," Dean agreed, nodding. He took a step back, feeling the loss of Castiel's warmth almost immediately. They needed to focus. They could talk later—figure out what this meant for them later.

But as they moved deeper into the church, searching for any sign of the creature they were hunting, Dean couldn't help but steal glances at Cas. The way his trench coat clung to him, damp from the rain; the way his eyes still held that quiet, steady light even in the darkened corners of the church.

It hit him then, In a way it hadn't before: how much Cas meant to him. How much he had always meant to him. And how stupid he'd been to deny it, to push it away because he was afraid. Afraid of losing him, or worse, of being left behind if Castiel ever decided to return to Heaven for good.

But Cas was still here. He'd chosen to stay. And now, after everything, after all the fights and the losses and the near-death experiences, he was choosing Dean again, in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Dean," Castiel's voice broke through his thoughts, drawing him back to the present. "Over here."

Dean shook his head to clear it and followed Cas to the far end of the church, where a door led to a small, hidden room. The air inside was heavy with age, dust motes dancing in the beam of Dean's flashlight as they stepped inside.

The room was empty, save for an old wooden altar covered in a tattered cloth. Castiel approached it cautiously, his brow furrowing in concentration. "There's something here," he said, his voice low. "A residue of power. Ancient."

Dean moved closer, squinting at the altar. It looked ordinary enough, but he trusted Cas's instincts. "What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure," Castiel admitted, placing his hand on the altar. A faint, blue light pulsed beneath his palm, and Dean watched as Castiel's eyes narrowed in concentration.

For a moment, the room was filled with that soft blue glow, and then it faded, leaving them in darkness once more. Castiel stepped back, a look of frustration crossing his features.

"It's gone," he said, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Whatever power was here, it's no longer active. But I fear it was a remnant of something… dangerous."

Dean frowned, glancing around the room again. It was small, unassuming, the kind of place that might have once been used for private prayer or confession. But now, it felt heavy with something unseen, like a weight pressing down on them.

"We should head back," Dean suggested, his instincts telling him that lingering here might not be the best idea. "Figure out what we're dealing with before we make a move."

Castiel nodded in agreement, but as they turned to leave, a sudden noise echoed through the church—a faint, almost imperceptible sound, like the whisper of a distant voice.

Dean tensed, hand immediately going to the gun at his side. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, his gaze snapping to the door they'd just exited. "It's not human."

They moved quickly, weapons drawn, following the sound back to the main hall of the church. The air had grown colder, the temperature dropping rapidly as they scanned the area.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.

It was tall, cloaked in darkness, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Dean felt a shiver run down his spine as the creature stepped into the dim light filtering through the broken windows.

It was ancient—its form twisted and skeletal, draped in tattered robes that whispered as it moved. It seemed to exude a power that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand on end.

"Dean Winchester," the creature hissed, its voice like the rustle of dead leaves. "And Castiel. How far you've come."

Dean aimed his gun at the creature, though he doubted it would do much good. "Who are you?"

"I am the last of the Forgotten," it replied, its voice tinged with something akin to sorrow. "Once, we were worshiped here, in this place. But now… we are nothing. And soon, you will join us in the shadows."

Dean's finger twitched on the trigger, but Castiel stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the creature. "You were once a god," Castiel said, his voice filled with recognition. "But your time has passed. You must move on."

The creature let out a low, rattling laugh. "Move on? There is nowhere left for me to go. I am trapped in this world, as you are trapped in your mortal form, Castiel."

Dean felt the tension in the air tighten, the situation teetering on the edge of something he couldn't control. "Cas…" he started, but Castiel shook his head.

"This being is not our enemy, Dean," Castiel said, his voice gentle. "It is lost, just as we were once lost."

The creature's glowing eyes dimmed slightly, as if Castiel's words had struck a chord. "Lost… yes. But I am also forgotten. And I cannot bear the weight of oblivion."

Dean didn't lower his gun, but he could see the sadness in the creature's form, the way it seemed to sag under the weight of its own existence. It wasn't a monster, not really. Just something that had outlived its time.

Castiel stepped closer to the creature, his hand outstretched. "You don't have to be alone," he said softly. "There is still a place for you. A place where you can find peace."

For a moment, the creature hesitated, its form wavering like mist in the wind. Then, slowly, it reached out, its skeletal hand brushing against Castiel's.

There was a flash of light, bright and pure, and the creature's form began to dissolve, the darkness around it fading away. Dean watched as it disappeared, the weight in the air lifting as the light dimmed and the church was plunged into quiet once more.

Castiel stood in the center of the room, his hand still outstretched, his expression one of deep compassion.

Dean lowered his gun, a strange sense of relief washing over him. "You did it," he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Cas turned to him, a small, tired smile on his lips. "It just wanted to be remembered," he said simply. "To be seen."

Dean felt a lump form in his throat as he nodded. He understood that feeling all too well.

Castiel's brow furrowed as he took in the aura of the now forgotten church and spoke voice grim. "There's 's still a malevolence here one unlike I've felt in millennia past but I can't place it now, nor could I long ago." Cas stared into the distance for a long while before speaking again. "This doesn't bode well. We should regroup at the bunker"

They left the church together, the rain having stopped while they were inside. The sky was still cloudy, but there was a lightness to the air that hadn't been there before, despite Cas' foreboding declaration. As they walked back to the Impala, Dean found himself glancing at Cas, the man who had become so much more than just an angel or a friend.

He wasn't sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long while, Dean wasn't afraid of what the future might bring. As long as Cas was by his side, he knew they could face whatever came their way…. But according to Cas it wasn't good even if they didn't know what it was…..