where's castiel

5

Supernatural 12x12

       ↳ In which, Cas is dying, Dean is still as dense as ever, and Sam is just pissed off about his ship. 

This originally was supposed to be a standalone - but I continued it because science. Part 1 (Part 2)

Gabriel: Sam I could kiss you right now!

Sam:

Sam: Neat.

*Later*

Sam: I can’t believe I said ‘Neat’! I’m not a teenager from the 50s!

Dean: It could be worse, remember what I said when Cas told me he loved me for the first time?

Sam: You said Thank you.

Dean, looking haunted: I said thank you.

Dean barely notices when Sam runs into the house to investigate the nephilim situation. His eyes dart this way and that, taking in the tattered, broken wingspan spread out before him.

All of the times that he lost Cas, he never saw his wings. Not once. And it feels so…final.

Dean’s lips tremble as he casts his gaze upwards towards where he knows heaven is watching. He wonders if the angels care. He wonders if God cares.

He knows Chuck probably isn’t even in heaven, and maybe he has his ears turned off while he’s having the family meeting to end all family meetings with Amara, but he tries anyway. He wants to beg, bargain, and scream, but he’s not sure he can speak. He sends up a plea, his lips mouthing silent prayers.

The air is still. Too still. Deathly still.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and slumps down to the ground. He bows his head down, but he can’t yet bear to look. Not yet. Not again.

He breathes, and it feels like a monumental effort. He is hyper aware of being alive, of his lungs filling with oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide, and suddenly he thinks he might understand why yoga helps to clear the mind. Maybe he’ll take it up. He could do with a nice, clear mind after…after…

He opens his eyes. Cas is there, but he isn’t.

Dean swallows against the burning lump in his throat as he reaches a hand out. Hand touches hand. One is cold.

Dean stares at the eyes and wills them to open as he curls his fingers around the still, cold hand. And finally, after much effort, he finds that he can speak.

“Please,” Dean pleads, his voice smaller than he thinks it has ever been. “Please. Cas. I need you.”

No. That’s not right. That’s not enough.

“I love you.”

Too late. He says it, finally, after all of these years, and it falls on deaf ears. Ears that will never hear those words.

Dean’s eyes sting. “Come back. Like you always do.” His voice cracks. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Please come back.”

The world is still. Too still.

He’s not coming back this time.

Dean folds himself over Cas’s body and finally allows himself to break.

Actual cinnamon rolls too precious for this world

Originally posted by inacatastrophicmind

Originally posted by whatisthepointofyouhardy

Originally posted by remusmoony

Originally posted by spookyparkerr

Originally posted by tsundereslasher

Originally posted by limegreenmonkey

Just humans


(I used a ref for this, and it ended up looking more sketchy than I intended but Imma leave it like that :p) 

(Have a flat colored version under the cut) :

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I have a list of things I think they should let Cas do: Talk more in enochian , smile more, kiss Dean, wear funny underwear and socks, kick even more asses, flip his angel blade more, kiss Dean again.