A/N: Hopping on the Destiel ship. Knew it was going to happen eventually. Anyway, this is just a little one shot I wrote...maybe it'll turn into more since this actually wasn't the story I had set out on writing. XD But oh well. As for my other stories, I'm getting to them...just give me time to get my inspiration back up. Also, sorry if the characters are OOC.
Story: This is Me, Unraveling
Couple: Destiel (One Sided)
Warnings: SPOILERS FROM THE END OF SEASON 5 AND UP! Hinted Male/Male
There are a lot of looks Dean has. Most of them are serious, with the weight of the world constantly on his shoulders, with the memories of hell haunting him, the blood of those he couldn't protect on his hands. Even now, as he attempts to get some sleep in the arms of the woman he'd gone to for healing...I can see it. He keeps dreaming, seeing Sam jumping into the box with Michael. He was examining every angle, attempting to figure out how he could stop him.
"Dean, it's pointless. What's done is done."
It was odd how he seemed to shift and react, as if I had actually been heard but I know that's only wishful thinking. What's even stranger is how much I wish I could be speaking to him right now. Confess everything that was going on around me, confess to even considering working with Crowley...which common sense dictates is an awful idea to begin with.
I could wake him now, take him to somewhere private and discuss this and already I can hear what Dean's response would be. Something along the lines of 'You've got to be kidding me Cas, working with Crowley?! To what, blow the gates to Purgatory and let all those sons of bitches that I've killed back on earth?!'
"You don't understand Dean, it wouldn't be like that. I would be absorbing the souls into myself. Then I could be strong enough to kill Raphael."
'Is that what this is about? Look Cas, if you need help beating Raphael then so be it, I'll help you do it but man there's got to be another way to do it. We'll find a way.'
I have to admit, Dean's voice in my head isn't as convincing as Dean usually is. Perhaps it was the lack of his eyes...the green portals into all that determination that he was going to do things his way or not at all. It's something I've always admired about Dean, even if he is brash and foolish.
I don't remember when I moved from across the room to Dean's side of the bed, but there he was, now laying on his back. He's somewhere between consciousness and sleeping and for a moment his green eyes crack and look right at me. I know he can't see me...but for a moment I grow tense with anticipation, waiting for the nickname he had donned on me to escape his lips. He would ask what I was doing there, but I'd have no response for him. As much as I wanted Dean's help, I couldn't pull him away from his 'normal' life here...with this woman, this boy. There was no room for an angel anymore.
I watched the sleep heavy eyes of Dean a little longer before he finally closed them again and he shifted to a better sleeping position. Though I don't feel the need to breathe, I let out a breath before I looked down at my feet. It was about time I left. Dean would sense me eventually...our bond profound. But I didn't want to leave...life with Dean would be simple. But he had fought so hard to end the apocalypse before it could do any real damage, and Raphael would undo all of that. If I'm night fighting for the angels' right to choose...I'm fighting for the sacrifices that were made...I'm fighting for the choices Dean made...and the choices Dean allowed me to make.
Reaching out, I placed my fingers to the resting Winchester's forehead and watched as he fell into a peaceful dream of a life he would never have. I then allowed myself the small gift of being able to touch Dean, who normally was so guarded. My hand slid down to rest on his cheek, the stubble that Dean would no doubt shave off tomorrow pressing into the callused skin of Jimmy's hand.
"Things will be alright Dean...I promise I won't let you down."
After one last long look at Dean, the world around me shifted and I was standing in the front of an impossibly long line. I shifted to look at the people standing there, and though they regarded me with confusion and quiet resentment, they did nothing but continued waiting. I turned my back to them, not surprised that Crowley was already there, waiting for me.
"Castiel, I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you again." There was a grin on his face, and I already knew that he had expected this of me.
"I have some conditions..."