12x09 pre-coda. spoilers. Mary’s perspective of Castiel as he pines. Loning retcon related.
“They’ve only been gone-”
“Six weeks, two days, and ten hours…”
Mary frowns at that, it has been a while, but she doesn’t have a basis to go off of. She doesn’t know how long or how short of a time frame they give each other before the others start to worry. She’s beginning to realize it’s shorter than six weeks, two days, and ten hours.
“They’ll turn up. I just know it.”
Cas sighs, palming his face with his hands, rubbing his cheeks in a way that is so human. She can’t believe angels are so expressive, she wonders if they’re all that way or if Castiel is an anomaly. He strikes her as one-of-a-kind, but she’s not sure why. When Cas’ index and middle finger start rubbing circles into his own temple, Mary eyes the pain lines in his forehead.
“Is there- are you okay?” Mary asks, hesitantly, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.
Cas’ breath hitches, like someone stuck a pin in his side, and he hisses, “I- I don’t know. It’s… I’ve felt- pain, for the past few weeks. It was distant, aimless, from somewhere or something unknown to me. At first I thought it was a side effect of the Nephilim being conceived, but- as it’s gotten stronger, I realized-” Castiel stops himself, glancing warily at Mary.
“You realized what?” She pressed.
Castiel shook his head. “This pain is familiar. I’ve felt it before. It leaves me hollow and fills me with a sense of helplessness that I can’t-” He stops himself again, looking down at his hands as he splays them out in front of him. “It’s… an echo, of someone else’s pain.” He leaves it at that.
Mary notes the way Cas’ fingers are shaking slightly as he lowers them to the bar. She almost doesn’t want to ask, feels like it’s too intimate or too personal, but she knows if it is, he just won’t answer. He does that sometimes, acts like she didn’t say a thing when she clearly did. It frustrates her. Just the other day she asked him if he knew any good place to order pizza and instead of answering he just up and left. He came back with a large cheese and pepperoni from the local spot, but she was stuck there in the bunker wondering what the hell happened.
Castiel’s eyes point toward the ceiling, or the sky, she isn’t sure exactly which one, “Dean’s.”
She isn’t sure what she expected, but when the word, the name, tosses and turns in her head enough, it hits her that there’s something missing. There’s a lot missing, actually. She’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she doesn’t know anything about Castiel’s relationship with her sons. She doesn’t know how they met, she doesn’t know why he’s on Earth, informally living with them, she doesn’t know a damn thing. But she does know how singular and definitive the name sounds as if leaves Cas’ mouth.
Dean’s pain. Not Sam and Dean. Not the boys. Dean.
It’s a pain Castiel calls familiar, and leaves him hollow. She doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night, but the darkened John-sized hole in her chest speaks volumes inside of her.