Disclaimer : I own none of the characters involved, that honour goes to Eric Kripke. Title and lyrics included are taken from Nightwish's version of "Wish You Were Here" which I also do not own, except on CD. :D I make no money from this, it's purely for entertainment purposes.
Wish You Were Here.
From the first time I laid my eyes on youFelt the joy of livingI saw heaven in your eyesIn your eyesDean watched Castiel leave the place, feeling a sense of loss at the angel's departure. He didn't expect to feel the sudden crashing loneliness that fell upon him, as Castiel's last words replayed in his mind, over and over again like a tainted echo.
"I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven. I do not serve man and I certainly don't serve you," Cas had said, before turning his back on him, and walking away, seemingly out of Dean's life, or so it had seemed to Dean right then.
Dean had been too stunned to say anything, to call the angel back, to ask what he'd meant and to explain himself further. Dean soon realized that there was no point. Even if Castiel had walked back when called, the usually cryptic angel would not give Dean the straight answer Dean thought he deserved. All Dean could do was watch the slight figure walk away, taking the warmth of life with him.
Dean had left himself soon after, to brood on his own outside in the fresh night air, leaving Sam inside to make sure Amelia and Claire were going to be alright. He barely looked up, and barely spoke when Sam returned to him moments later.
He didn't even have a lot to say to Sam while in the car itself - he was far too tired to deal with his brother now and as Dean had said himself to Sam - he was done. The memory of seeing his brother with a blood stained mouth would remain with him for a long time - but even that didn't hurt as much as Castiel walking away from him, Castiel leaving him.
At that moment, Dean felt the loneliest he'd ever felt in his whole life, and that was going some distance. He sighed and barely reacted to the phone call that Sam received - of course he already knew it was Bobby. He'd made the necessary phone call to him, because of what he was planning for his brother.
He remained impassive during the rest of the drive to Bobby's, still barely talking and remained impassive whilst at Bobby's place, even when they locked Sam in Bobby's specially built panic room. Not even when Sam shouted himself hoarse within the salt soaked iron room did Dean flinch, crack or waver; he remained stoically silent, thinking about Castiel.
It was at this moment that Dean realized the worst heart ache he'd ever felt in his whole life; a similar heartache to when he'd had to leave Cassie the first time, only infinitely stronger. It was then, that the hunter realized how much he truly loved the angel, and Dean was surprised at how unmoved, how unsurprised he was by his own admission.
Dean Winchester was in love with a freaking angel of the Lord, and he didn't care.
Dean closed his eyes, bowing his head against the weight of his own emotions, a single tear slipping from one eye as he thought. He thought of Jimmy Novak, of how he must have felt at the thought of knowing he had to leave behind Amelia and Claire behind, so that they could remain safe. Now Dean could understand how Amelia must have felt knowing that Jimmy had had to walk away.
Dean snorted a mirthless laugh at that - for in a way, both Amelia and Dean himself were both pining after the same man, at least physically the same man. He had no doubt that Jimmy was still in there, in that body somewhere, but it was Castiel that was controlling the vessel now, Castiel that Dean was missing, not Jimmy. It was Castiel that mattered to Dean, and always had mattered, even if Dean himself hadn't known it.
He sighed again, scrubbing at his eyes with weary fingertips, brushing away unshed tears.
Bobby came back from the kitchen, looking unimpressed with the current situation, but he didn't comment about it, nor the younger Winchester's earlier pleas and cries for help, for release.
"You'd best get yourself some shut eye, Dean," Bobby murmured to the other hunter, as he passed Dean a beer. "You've had a rough time."
"Tell me about it," Dean said, grimly, downing half the proffered beer in one gulp.
He drank the second half of the bottle more slowly, letting the liquid soothe his dry throat and dull his senses, hoping for release from the pain he felt over Castiel. It helped, if only marginally.
After finishing the beer, he stood with a soft groan, joints protesting with slight pops and creaks, before he went to lay himself down on the mattress upon the floor that Bobby had rolled out for him. Dean tried not to think of a time not too long ago, when Castiel had appeared to him in that self same kitchen, demanding that Dean show him respect, and telling him of the 66 Seals and the rising of Lucifer.
Dean would even welcome the invasion of his personal space by the imposing angel, if it meant that Castiel was there, was back again.
"Cas," Dean said softly into the night, into the pillow beneath his head. "I hope wherever you are, you feathery son of a bitch, that you come back here. I wish you were here."
Dean did not fall asleep easily that night, eyes staring into the blank canvas of the night for what seemed like hours, before his eyes closed shut on the wings of sleep.
At first he thought he was dreaming when he heard the sound of wings beating nearby, large wings that sounded so alien, yet familiar at the same time. He smiled slightly, in relief, before opening his eyes to turn over in bed hopefully. There was Castiel, in pretty much the same position he'd been in the last time, leaning up against the kitchen work surface, face tilted downwards towards the floor almost thoughtfully.
"Cas?" Dean said softly, as he rolled off the mattress, getting to his feet slowly, almost as though he was afraid to make a sudden movement and make the angel disappear.
The angel looked up, large blue eyes seemingly larger than ever, more puppy dog like in their intensity. His lips were puckered in what called be called a "bitch face" in others more ... human.
"Cas, are you really here? Is this a dream? Again?" Dean asked, padding forward on sock clad feet, to stand before the smaller angel and to stare upon him in wonder.
"No, Dean, not this time. This is real," Castiel said, in the familiar gruff tones of the angel, rather than the higher voice of Jimmy.
"What happened to you, Cas? In Heaven? What the Hell did they do to you up there?" Dean said, brow furrowing as he watched the angel.
Castiel's lips thinned as he frowned, before he looked away, averting his gaze to the far wall, eyes narrowed slightly.
"Cas?" Dean pressed, almost reaching out to touch the angel's arm, to try and get him to talk.
"I can't, Dean. I can't tell you, not yet. It's too soon," the angel said, gaze flickering to Dean's for just a moment, before flickering away again.
Dean could well understand the angel's need for silence right then - after all, didn't he do the same with Sam not so long ago over his time in Hell?
"Okay," Dean said, with a brief nod. "Then why are you here? I thought you didn't serve me?"
Castiel's eyes closed as though in pain, lips turning down at the corners in remembrance of his own words.
"I had orders, a reminder of who and what I am. What I said still goes. I am an angel, a warrior of God; I serve Heaven, not Man," Castiel said, still not looking up at Dean, as though that action would have been too painful for him.
"So why are you here? Now?" Dean asked, a faint stirring of hope stirring in his chest.
"I can't stay away," the angel murmured. "No matter what they say to me, no matter what they do, they can't take this away from me. It's all I have."
"What?" Dean questioned, eyeing the angel suspiciously. "I don't know what you mean, you cryptic son of a ... "
The rest of his words were lost as Castiel's lips closed over his own in a fervent, desperate kiss, his fingers threading through Dean's short hair. Without thinking, Dean kissed back, just as hungrily, just as desperately, thinking all the while that this is all he ever wanted. He wanted to touch Castiel, to be kissed by him, to feel him beneath his hands, as warm and solid as his own body. He explored Castiel's mouth as eagerly as Castiel explored his, the hunter's hand splayed out across the angel's back, while the other bunched in the angel's dark hair.
It didn't matter to Dean right then, that this essentially was a guy he was kissing; it didn't matter because it was Castiel, and he wanted him and him alone.
Castiel was the one to break the kiss, pulling away almost reluctantly, eyes staring intently into Dean's, almost as though the angel was reading the hunter's mind, looking into Dean's soul and seeing the love laid bare there that was all for him.
Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's never breaking the contact of his gaze, only dropping it when Bobby stirred somewhere in the depths of the house.
Castiel pulled away slightly, the warmth of his body leaving Dean's for a moment as he stared up at the ceiling, at the sounds of Bobby moving overhead, heading for the bathroom.
"I have to go, Dean," he announced, slowly, almost sadly, as he touched Dean's face tenderly.
"Please don't leave me," Dean almost begged, leaning into the angel's touch again.
"I have to," Castiel said, the first faint stirrings of something that could be sorrow reflected in his voice. "I will be back, Dean. You can be sure of that."
"Not even Heaven's attack dogs can keep you away, huh?" Dean asked, with a small smile at the angel.
Surprisingly the angel almost smiled back, faint humour lighting up his eyes for an all too fleeting instant.
"Not even those attack dogs," he confirmed, but there was still that unspoken promise between them, that no one should find out about this.
Dean understood that Castiel wasn't saying this was a one off performance by his unspoken words, rather he was saying it was something to be kept between them - a dirty little secret of sorts. Dean could live with that. He'd rather the secrecy than not have Castiel in his life at all. If that meant stolen moments in the middle of the night, stolen kisses promising so much more, then so be it.
At least he wasn't alone any more. At least he knew he was loved, and could love in return.
He stared at Castiel for a moment longer, and he swore he could see Heaven reflected in his gaze, countless stars and infinite power held within, and he was trapped; a willing prisoner of the angel's.
He blinked, felt the vague brush of wings and the gust of Castiel's passing, accompanied by heavy wing beats sounding in the night air, and when Dean opened his eyes once again, his angel was gone.
This time though, he did not feel as though his heart had been crushed, his soul broken by the angel leaving him. This time he felt hope, hope that one day he would see Castiel again, to feel him against him once again, to kiss him once more.
He sagged against the work surface, eyes closed and a slight smile touching his lips, his hand brushing against a feather left seemingly carelessly on the work surface beside him. Dean opened his eyes, picked up the feather and examined it closely.
He knew that this was Castiel's unspoken promise of his imminent return to him and this gesture comforted Dean much more than unspoken words and stolen glances from the angel. This was definite proof.
He tucked the feather into his pocket, gently, before returning to his mattress upon the floor. This time, sleep came easier for him, claiming him quicker into a dreamless embrace and Dean knew no more until morning light.