Title: Hey Jude
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, mentions of Sam.
Warnings: Angst, dying but not-yet-dead character.
Prompts Used: Dean sees it out of the corner of his eye, sometimes as an afterimage against the back of his lids when he blinks. He's not sure if Cas is even aware that Dean can see his wings, and maybe it's just a side effect of being stuck in Purgatory. Regardless, Dean finds it distracting.
Summary: Hey Jude don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.
Authors Notes; I am so sorry for missing my posting date by a few days because my Internet broke. I hope this story is still good. I tried for humour, smut, but all that worked was angst.
Dean lay with Castiel's head pillowed on his thigh. Such closeness would have unnerved him, caused him to seek personal space, but not today. Not now. He ran his fingers over Castiel's matted hair, humming 'Hey Jude' to lighten their desolate moods, however ineffectively.
For the first time in his life, Dean allowed himself to acknowledge that there was nothing he could do. That there was not some hidden loophole, a plan waiting to be discovered. For the first time in his life, Dean allowed himself to do nothing. To sit and wait and hope for a good hand.
If Sam didn't find a way for them both to get out, they would waste away, because Purgatory was not a place for those who were alive. It was a place where the dead went when they were in need of judgement. When Heaven and Hell did not have a place for them.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Castiel's chest hitched as he whimpered, his wings spilling out onto the ground. Finally, Purgatory had drained enough of his grace to allow them to materialise.
For a live angel, Dean knew, this fate was infinitely worse. Day by day, minute by minute, Castiel was losing more of himself. The thought brought tears to Dean's eyes; he couldn't help his dying friend as his grace frayed and fizzled into nothing.
It wouldn't be long now before Dean was alone in this fight for freedom. If Sam brought them both back, Dean was sure that only he would appear at Sam's feet.
And any time you feel pain, hey Jude, refrain.
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
Dean brushed his fingers over one wing lightly, leaning down to kiss Castiel's sweaty forehead. Castiel whimpered again, arching into it. His hand found Dean's, squeezing, fingers twitching as a little more energy started to leave him.
For well you know you're a fool who plays it cool,
By making his world a little colder.
Sam would come for them in time. He would, because Dean had to believe he would. Because he wasn't ready to lose the only friend he'd ever had.