The shadows dancing across the discolored motel wall didn’t break Cas’ line of sight. His eyes were well trained by now, trained to watch over the single purest piece of humanity he had ever seemed to know in his existence. The days come and go, the leaves fall and frozen rain swirls, but something never changes. The way Cas’ heart aches when his eyes meets the sleeping face of the man he’d give up the world for.
Raking leaves, chomping on diner burgers, grease-stained from patching up Baby… every time Castiel was given even a second to see Dean Winchester in all of his greatness… he couldn’t help but yearn. Yearning was forbidden, it was not meant for the angelic being he was raised to be. But it didn’t stop him every time he heard a crackling fit of laughter.
His yearning made him fall, it embedded in his grace a sense of hope that became his heavenly downfall. There was no coming back from these feelings, these realizations that Dean Winchester made heaven a pale prison. Which is why Castiel finds himself in these motel rooms, that reek of sin and abandonment, on a nightly basis.
Sometimes he wishes he was strong enough to say something in these silent moments. He wishes he could part his parched lips and tell Dean, even if he won’t hear it, that he loves him. But he knows that it isn’t his place, that he doesn’t deserve Dean’s love or his trust anymore. He’s hurt him, betrayed him, too many times for him to be forgiven.
And still he yearns. He yearns and yearns in silence.
Tonight he was too tired. He left with a brisk flutter of his wings.
The sound of wings flickering opened Dean’s eyes. He stared at the ceiling, a pit in his stomach, wondering why his guardian angel left so early this night. Most nights he could sense Cas’ eyes on him until the brisk rays of morning poured onto his skin.
It wasn’t that Dean was scared to let Cas know he was awake, maybe he thought Cas could sense he was awake, all he knew was that he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t rest anymore without Cas near, couldn’t close his eyes without seeing nightmares unless his angel was watching over him. It was pathetic, a little needy, but Dean was too tired in life to fight it.
Watching the shadows race across the walls, he wondered idly if he would see Cas in the morning. Maybe they’d talk on the phone. Knowing the angel loved being included in ‘pop culture’ like ‘using a cellphone’ he tried to call Cas as often as possible.
But he missed praying. Praying to Cas had gotten him through a lot of shit these past years. He’d never admit it, took him a while to admit it to himself, but it was his saving grace.
Closing his eyes, Dean fought for a fitful slumber filled with blue eyes and burnt wings. Maybe tomorrow he’d tell Cas. He’d tell him he loved him, tell him he needed him more than ever, but for now he would pray that his angel would return to watch over him.