The door closes with a click and you feel the life being sucked out of you just as quickly as it had been shoved back in. You’re back, you said, but what you meant to say was, stay. There is a softness in his eyes but there is great distance too. There’s someone waiting in the car for him but you don’t ask who. You’re sure he left the engine running for her, a quick stop and he’d be gone. He’s never stayed before, why would now be any different?
He shoved the air back in your lungs and just as quickly you are drowning. All you want is for him to be sitting there at the kitchen table when the first coffee you’ve had in 6 weeks passes your lips in the morning. You’re human once more but you still don’t know how to ask for what you need.
Without even thinking your legs are moving, willing you to get outside the door before it’s too late. He’s not outside in the hall, but at the top of the steps, seconds away from disappearing.
“Cas,” you manage to choke out, and you barely recognize your own voice.
He stops dead in his tracks and before he can even turn around you’re standing mere inches away from him on the landing. When he finally does turn to face you, your hands are on his lapels before your once again human mind can convince you this is probably a bad idea.
You’ve got him pressed against the wall so fast your head is spinning and your legs feel weak from the way his breath hitches when you kiss him. He tastes electric, sweet, and just a little bitter, because you know when you pull away, this is it. He’s going to walk out that door and leave you for good.
You release him, on shaky legs you step back, leaving him there against the wall, frozen, slack jawed and wide eyed, jacket a rumpled mess from where you balled it in your fists and held on to him for dear life. Like if you let him go he would have just drifted away, a brilliant blue memory in the epic fucking tragedy of your life.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, averting his gaze the best you can.
In the end he doesn’t drift away, but you do instead. Down the stairs and back to your room, leaving him standing there unmoving, silent, breathless. You fucked up big this time, Winchester. He’s got his girl back in the car, someone he found that could treat him right and have his back. Someone he would return to when the job was done. He’s never coming back to you.
Sam brings you food shortly after and you ask him in passing if Cas stuck around. He just says he must have slipped out before he got back. No sign of him or that big, ugly boat of a car he’s getting around in these days. He’s gone. He’s gone. It’s over.
You eat until you’re stuffed and slip into a dreamless sleep shortly after. At some point in the night you’re awoken by the gentle dip of someone sitting on the edge of your mattress. There’s a body slipping in beside you moments later, under the covers, his arms wrapping tightly around you. In the dead of night, blinded by dark, you know it is him in an instant. You don’t speak, you can’t, instead you gently lace your fingers together and drift back to sleep with the warmth of his lips on your neck.