I wrote this for my dear friend Estefania. I don’t know if she’s read it yet, but I wanted to share it. I love you so much, girl. I’m serious. I will always be here for you. If you guys could give her some support, it would mean so much. Seriously.
Castiel looked up at Dean from his place under the soft down comforter. He studied the way the light of the fire danced along Dean’s features, and Castiel found himself reaching up with gentle fingers to touch the back of his lover’s neck. As the Hunter turned to look down at the Angel, Castiel had to catch a breath after watching the way Dean’s back looked with a recent sheen of sweat. God, he loved that.
Dean smiled down at him, placing a hand of his own on Castiel’s stomach. It was a silent question that Castiel knew all too well, and Castiel was already answering, leaning up to meet Dean’s lips in a warm open-mouthed kiss. They’d been in bed for most of the day and he didn’t think they’d be leaving anytime soon.
It wasn’t until a few hours later that they lay together with the embers crackling in the fireplace, breathing soft and slow. Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair as Dean’s hand caressed Castiel’s back. The Angel whisper soft “I love you”s to his Hunter, and the Hunter would respond with calm, happy sighs and sweet kisses. They were, in a word, content, and stayed that way until they both dozed off when sunlight peeked through the slats of the blinds.
Note: Drug Use involved; set way after Gates of Hell closing, sort of an Alternate Time Line I guess. Drabbly shtuff for Brooke and Jess <3
The sky outside the window of the bedroom was dark, the light of the full moon casting a soft glow through the glass and onto the bed. A small fire had been set in the fireplace, but it had now whittled down to glowing embers. On the bed, Dean Winchester sat cross legged with his back to the foot of the bed, hunched over something in his lap as Castiel, leaning back against the headboard, looked on with lazy interest.
“When was the last time you did this?” The Angel asked, his voice soft. His friend glanced up from his hands and smirked.
“Not for a long time.” He responded. They were silent for a moment more before he finally chuckled, obviously pleased with himself as he held up a thin joint for the man before him. “Whaddya think, Cas?”
Castiel rolled his eyes, laughing quietly. “Dean, I’ve never taken part in anything of the sort. I am not the one to give an opinion on your craftsmanship.” A glint of humor appeared in his blue eyes, watching Dean as the man opposite him pushed Castiel’s foot playfully with his free hand.
“Smartass,” Dean quipped before getting to his knees and crawling up next to Castiel to reach across him to the bedside table and grab the lighter he had placed there earlier that night. Flopping back onto the bed, Dean lit the joint, taking a slow and long drag before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His past experience kept him from a coughing fit, but his eyes were still watery when he looked back at his friend. They sat in companionable peace, listening to the noises of the forest outside the window as Dean took another hit.
Nights like this were becoming more and more common for the pair of them, quiet reveries and hushed whispers against pillows. Now that he had begun hunting less, he felt empty, but honestly, Dean was tired. As his thoughts slowed, he felt a laziness settle in his bones, his eyelids drooping sleepily. He felt Castiel’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and he thoughtlessly lay himself down, his head in the Angel’s lap. He sighed softly as Castiel drug his fingers through Dean’s hair and Dean found he couldn’t make any move to stop him. Not that he couldn’t… He didn’t want to.
Instead, he found himself looking up at Castiel, studying the way the dim light played in Castiel’s deep blue eyes. A calmness washed over him as Castiel placed his free hand on Dean’s stomach, his eyes slipping closed. An unspoken understanding passed between them as Dean’s hand came to lay on top of Castiel’s, a silent thanks and a lingering wish that the night would last for so much longer.
“You should sleep, Dean,” Castiel murmured, his fingers pushing his bangs back gently. Dean’s lips turned up in a small smile as he hummed in return. He didn’t agree but something about the way his name rolled off Castiel’s lips made his heart thrum. A surge of confidence came over him and he opened his eyes to stare up at the Angel.
“Kiss me first,” he said simply, Castiel looking down at him in shock. Neither one moved for a tense moment, until Castiel’s eyes softened and a barely-there smile appeared on his lips.
“I think I like it when you smoke, Dean,” Castiel whispered and leaned down, their lips touching gingerly. As first kisses went, Dean felt that the spark was more than he could take, the chaste kiss alone leaving him breathless. Regardless of all signals in his brain ringing loud and clear, he grabbed the duvet and sucked in a breath, calming his nerves. “Dean.” Castiel breathed against his Hunter’s face, lips brushing his cheek in adoration.
Dean smiled. He felt sleepiness slow his thinking, and his free hand reached up to rest on Castiel’s cheek. “Join me next time.” He muttered, and Castiel gave a soft chuckle.
With that, Dean sighed, Castiel continuing his gentle attentions, and the Hunter gave in to sleep.
Author’s Note: I started this a while back and then Chrome quit unexpectedly and I lost the will to rewrite a whole ‘nother 900 words ): I dedicate this to Ellie, because it’s her birthday, and I wanted to write her something. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUTTFACE) This prompt has come in handy. Sorry to say it deviated from a silly drabble to a more serious piece. Takes place during Season Five, but no set place.1,480 Words
“Careful, Cas, watch his head,” Sam’s voice was strained with frustration, his arm underneath Dean’s shoulder blades, trying to support him as he attempted to get the Motel Room’s door open. Castiel watched Sam’s hand turn the key, the weight of worry in his chest gripping at him. Getting hit on the head didn’t normally cause much damage to Dean, but they had been searching along the ledge of a canyon when Dean took a spill and ended up ten feet below Sam and Castiel.
Hefting the unconscious hunter closer to himself, he helped Sam move his brother to the bed. They carefully laid him down, Castiel’s hand moving to touch Dean’s forehead. Of all the times for him to be cut off from Heaven, this had to have been the worst. He wasn’t one to worry openly, but this wasn’t good. His fingers trailed to the back of Dean’s head, pulling away to reveal blood. There wasn’t much, but just enough to cause Sam to groan. “Shit,” the taller brother groaned, rushing to the bathroom. Castiel watched after him until he heard the faucet turn on. Looking back down at Dean, his heart throbbed, thinking there must have been something he could have done to prevent this from taking place.
Destiel AU - They say talking to a stranger can be therapeutic.
└ Dean gets a wrong number and finds himself drawn into a conversation with the strange individual on other end.
The blaring noise of Dean’s cell phone drug him from his couch, an irritated groan vibrating in his throat. Taking a swig from his beer before setting it down on the table, Dean grabbed his phone, flipping it open to see an unknown number blinking on the screen. Normally, he never would have answered it, but seeing as he’d already had perhaps one too many beers, he figured he may as well. Who knows, maybe Garth fucked up his phone? Dean wouldn’t have put it past him.
Or Sam got his hair it’s own number.
As he raises the phone to his ear, Dean can hear a truck passing in the back ground and suddenly he wasn’t so sure. “Hello?” He asked, leaning up against the window sill. He heard shuffling on the other end before a voice answered him.
“Gabriel, this isn’t funny.” The voice was deep and rough, nearly taking Dean by surprise. “You know I don’t know how to use this phone yet.” The man on the other end was obviously upset, and Dean knew how he felt, having been pulled from his comfortable situation on the couch.
“Dude,” Dean said, picking up his beer as he heard another truck pass in the back ground. “I think you have the wrong number.” He finished his beer and opened the fridge to get a new one as he heard more traffic pass by. Wherever this guys was, it was busy.
An exasperated huff preceded the response. “What?” Dean began to grin a little, but snuffed it out quick. “I didn’t hear that. Gabriel, just come pick me up.”
Glancing over at the TV as it hummed softly, Dean sighed a little bit, beginning to lose his patience. “Look man,” he said, moving back to the couch and sitting down with a grunt. “This isn’t Gabriel. My name is Dean, and you have the wrong number.”
There was a pause and, for a moment, Dean thought that the call had dropped.
“What?” What the hell is a Castiel? This guy was pretty weird if Dean had anything to say about it.
“My name. It’s Castiel.”
No, that was not a normal response.
It took Dean a moment to realize that this guy was being serious. When the man on the other end didn’t offer up any more information, he just shook his head. “That’s great.” Dean replied and hung up. That was too much for one night, and he really didn’t care to talk on the phone while he was working with a buzz. Letting himself settle back into the cushions, Dean’s mind began to wander. With out realizing it, he began to doze off, his thoughts on the strange call.
It wasn’t too long before Dean found himself face down in his bed, trying to breath evenly and fall asleep. As he began to feel himself pass out, the phone rang to life. An irritated groan was muffled by the pillow before he turned on his side and reached out in a near blind attempt to tell whoever it was to fuck off and let him sleep.
Work tomorrow was going to be unforgiving, he knew it.
“What?” Dean snapped, though the effect he had wanted was dulled by the obvious sleep in his voice.
There was a pause and then he heard a low sigh. “Dean?”
It was Castiel, but for some reason Dean found this almost… funny, and he finds himself smiling. “Do you even know this guy’s number?” Dean asks, blinking away sleep and sitting up against the wall, a hand running through his hair.
“Apparently not,” Castiel answers, and Dean could have sworn he heard a soft chuckle.
There’s silence, filled with Dean’s thoughts. He really did want to ask Castiel questions, mostly about what had him calling “Gabriel” in the middle of the night. Honestly, there were more questions rolling around, but even thinking them made him a little uneasy. “Well, Cas,” Dean said, fighting a yawn. “I don’t know what to tell you, but you’re just going to have to get a different ride.”
Okay, Castiel was definitely chuckling this time. Some thing about it sent chills up Dean’s spine. “I already did. Figured a Cab was a more reliable way home than that jerk.” Castiel gave a huff on the other end, and Dean heard shuffling. “I actually just got home and I was trying to call him to give him a piece of my mind.”
The situation was entertaining to say the least, sitting in bed during the early hours of the morning talking to a stranger. Dean didn’t even like talking on the phone, but what could he say? He was intrigued. “If it helps at all, I can listen.” He hears himself say. Dean chalks it up to booze and his lack of sleep.
“Brothers.” Castiel said, and although he was obviously irritated, Dean could hear a smile. “They know just how to make you want to commit homicide.”
“I hear ya on that,” Dean laughed, looking up at his ceiling. “I’ve got one of my own, and as irritating as he is, I love ‘im.”
He heard a laugh on the other end and then they were both quiet. A few moments passed, long enough for Dean to realize that it didn’t feel awkward like most pauses on the phone felt to him. It felt comfortable and familiar. Castiel took a deep breath, and Dean looked at the clock. He really needed to sleep…
“I’m Castiel Milton. I work at a bank and I live alone in an uptown apartment.” Dean fought back a laugh at how strange this conversation was turning out to be. “I enjoy reading and writing. Occasionally I go out for a drink with friends, but then my older brother decides he’s got better things to do, like the tall brunette at the bar, and stands me up.”
Dean broke into a grin, closing his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean Winchester.”
“Hi, Dean,” Castiel laughed softly.
He was wrong. Sleep could wait.
I’m kinda confused with myself. I remember in the Summer, I was churning out fic like… once a day. Why is it I stopped writing? Am I just blocked or something? I have so many ideas but I have no idea how to write them. It makes me so upset.
There was something in the way that Castiel would unfurl his wings that caused Dean’s heart to feel light as air. He felt the rush of unsettled space before he actually saw the feathers, but when they would materialize, Dean felt himself suck in a tight breath, fighting the urge to reach out and touch them. Castiel stood before him in the dark motel room, his eyes strong and unwavering as he watched Dean examine the sheen of his wings, something like pride pulsing through him and Dean could practically feel it.
“Dean,” Castiel said, his voice cutting through the silence and pulling Dean’s attention away from the vast wings that seemed to take up the room’s width. He took a step forward, further into Dean’s personal space demanding that Dean look at him. Rustling feathers distracted Dean as Castiel’s expansive wings curled around them both, his heart hammering against his rib cage. This was the first time that Castiel had really and truly trusted Dean with the sight of his wings. He knew this was not something he showed humans often, if at all, and his chest hurt with the knowledge of what Cas has sacrificed and given for him.
“Dean,” Castiel said again, taking one more step closer. Dean’s eyes moved to fall on Castiel’s, swallowing deep and hard. The Hunter felt himself shiver, feeling a near electric current flowing through him. He thought he could hear crackling but instead pushed it aside to instead focus on how close he and Castiel had now come. Normally, Dean would come up with a smart ass comment about it, but he didn’t dare break the tension. Castiel’s thoughts were almost crystal clear to Dean. He wanted Dean to trust him, to come close. He wanted Dean.
Castiel raised his hand to touch Dean’s throat, the muscles tensing as he braced himself for whatever Castiel had planned. Closing the last few inches, the Angel placed his lips on Dean’s, his tongue softly asking for passage, and it was granted. Dean was, at first, still, tense and unsure, but as Castiel began to make a more aggressive pass, he began to snap out of it, relishing the metallic taste of the Angel’s mouth. Castiel tasted like a summer thunderstorm, warm rain, and Dean was reminded of wet tarmac, days spent in the impala with the windows down after the downpour had stopped.
He secretly loved the way Castiel’s hand was possessive on his jaw, the way he felt small against the powerful Angel that was currently claiming him as his own. It was then that Dean’s hands reached up to bury his fingers in the dark feathers, breathing in Castiel’s audible gasp. His lips turned up in a smirk, finally able to fully appreciate the passing moments. Instead of opening his mouth and breaking the silence, Dean leaned forward, catching Castiel’s lips with his own once more. In the back of his mind, he thought he could almost feel a soft gust of wind, and his heart felt heavy with affection for the one who could ride it.
It was becoming a regular thing for Dean to lie in bed and think to himself for long periods of time before he would drift off to sleep. Sam would point it out from time to time, but Dean ignored him or told him to shove it. It wasn’t a problem, so Sam shouldn’t worry about it. If anything, he didn’t even want to share what he thought about late at night. He didn’t want to even acknowledge the fact that his thoughts on the matter were beginning to seep into his day to day life.
Fuck no, he wasn’t about to spill his guts to his brother about his sexuality.
As he was laying back against his pillows, having totally disregarded kicking off his boots or even removing a single article of clothing, Dean thought. He thought about how, yeah, maybe he had checked men out before, but he never thought it was anything to analyze. Dean could perfectly well appreciate the male body with out being… Well, fact was, lately he had started to feel like every time he told himself he was straight as an arrow, he had honestly had doubt nagging at the back of his mind.
And if Dean could blame anything, or in this case anyone, for his personal anxiety, it was that feathery bastard. Castiel had a way of getting underneath his skin. The older Winchester was constantly catching himself thinking something that honestly surprised him.
“God damn, could his voice get any rougher?” He would think. Then, with out warning: “I want him to say my name.”
Another occasion: Dean caught himself admiring Castiel’s back as he shed his clothes to inspect the gash along his side. A side effect of falling was that he didn’t heal as easily as he used to, or so Castiel had said. Honestly, Dean didn’t hear much else of what he had said, since his attention was on the fact that Castiel was more well built that he had given him credit for.
Of course there were more instances when Dean began to question if some one had spiked his coffee, but at one point he began to roll with it, even if it caused an inner turmoil during the more quiet parts of the night.
No way was Dean going to say anything about it to anyone. Least of all the Angel that chose this very moment to appear beside his bed and exchange greetings with his brother. No, especially not him.
Sam Winchester was always the one in the Library. Even when Dean decided to come with him, he would just grumble half the time and decide that his time would be better spent talking up witnesses at the local bar. It just so happened that, as he had his face buried in some book that he had pulled off the shelf, his research was interrupted by the harsh sound of wooden chair legs sliding along tile. “Hello, Sam,” Castiel greeted him, his hands placed atop the table in a proper fashion.
The youngest Winchester looked over his shoulder, confused and turning a questioning glance at the Angel. “You know… that Dean’s not here. Right?” he finally said, absentmindedly closing his book.
“I’m not here for Dean,” Castiel intones, causing Sam to give him a somewhat baffled look. To Sam, the fact that Castiel is here to talk to him kind of… surprises him. It wasn’t like it had never happened, but lately, whenever the Angel would appear, he’d turn to look straight at Dean and Sam would fall by the wayside.
“Oh,” he says and Castiel tilts his head before Sam finally shakes himself, clearing his throat. “Uhm, what do you need?” He didn’t really expect it to be of much importance, since Castiel rarely came to him about anything, but it was obviously something he couldn’t go to Dean about.
The Angel gave a clipped sigh and his hands clenched into soft fists on top of the hardwood table, turning his face down to stare at his hands. “I am having a difficult time understanding something and I was hoping you could perhaps clarify it for me,” he said, lifting his eyes to look at the younger brother in a silent plea.
Of course the fact that a nearly ageless being was asking him for advice kind of humbled him in a way, and Sam gave a soft chuckle, raising his eyebrows as he pushed his book to the side to give Castiel his full attention. “Okay, Cas, shoot.”
Castiel took a soft breath, straightening in his seat and looking up at the ceiling, at the bookshelves, almost anywhere but making eye contact with Sam. It was strange, but Sam thought he almost looked shy. “I don’t know exactly how to express the issue correctly, but lately I have been feeling emotions that I am not too familiar with, even in passing,” Castiel started, and as he kept speaking, he finally managed to level his gaze with Sam’s. “At first it was faint, just warmth, and now it’s turned into almost a physical manifestation. I feel my vessel reacting in ways that it shouldn’t. My—” Castiel swallowed, looking back at his hands as he laid the palms flat against the table. “My heart hurts and my palms sweat. I feel like my stomach is flipping over inside of myself.” Sam could already tell exactly what was happening, but he couldn’t think of a reason why. He didn’t think that Castiel was ever around anyone other than him and his brother very often, so it ruled out a majority of the (if not the whole) population.
“Also,” Castiel’s voice sounded softer, his eyes staring off into the distance, “it only happens around Dean.”
Sam stared at Castiel as soon as his brother’s name was mentioned, but when he began to really turn the situation over in his head, the more he started to remember witnessing the way the two would share small touches; the way they looked at one another when the other wasn’t looking. Sam chuckled to himself and shook his head, running a hand through his hair, only to find the Angel looking at him with a bewildered expression. “Sorry, uhm, I was just thinking about what you said.”
Castiel nodded as indication that he understood, and Sam began to try and figure out a simple enough way to explain everything to Castiel that wouldn’t make it totally awkward. Though, he knew it was going to be awkward no matter what. Finally resigning himself to having to explain something as complicated as romantic emotions to an Angel, Sam caught Castiel’s eye and exhaled deeply. “Cas, most of what you explained to me… you probably like my brother.”
“Of course I like your brother,” Castiel interjected, seeming almost offended, having obviously misunderstood Sam’s meaning.
“In a more… intimate way,” Sam added, finding Castiel’s annoyance entertaining, smiling at the Angel sitting across from him, though a little uncomfortable that they were referring to Dean. “It’s nothing bad. I just don’t want to jump the gun and tell you that he likes you back because he’d probably beat the shit out of me if I did.”
Castiel seemed lost, and that didn’t surprise Sam, honestly. He was thankful then for his ability to be patient (so far as Dean wasn’t concerned), and he wondered if there was anything else he could say to ease his friend’s obvious anxiety about the matter. “I think you need to talk to Dean about this.” Sam said plainly, fingering the pen that was laying to the side. “Other than that, there’s not much else I can say.”
“Very well,” Castiel said, though Sam didn’t seem convinced that he was ready for this. “I’ll do so tonight.”
Sam opened his mouth to tell him he should wait until he was ready, not to act on his advice right away, but he felt a hand clap down onto his shoulder and Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do what tonight?” Dean asked, and Sam could hear the smirk in his voice, causing him to slump over, his face in his hand.
Looking through his fingers at Castiel, he noticed an obvious pink hue to his cheeks, and felt a wave of pity wash over him. This was Castiel’s first experience with this sort of thing, and it made Sam think of a child. If anything, confessing to Dean of all people was going to be difficult, but Sam would be there for the clean up if things went downhill.
Sighing, he straightened up as Dean sat down beside him, reaching across to grab a book from the pile, and Castiel was watching Dean intently. Oh God, he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. “Oh, fine, don’t tell me anything. I’m just the guy that picked up our next lead,” Dean quipped, laughing to himself. Always the joker.
“Well?” Sam ground out, trying to distract from the fact that Castiel wasn’t being covert in the least.
“Buy me a beer, Sammy, and then we can talk. I’ve had a long day of being hit on by that weird ol’ grandma, and I need to forget it fast.” Standing up from his chair, Dean moved around the table to pat Castiel on the shoulder, the Angel visibly holding his breath as he closed his eyes. Sam’s heart stung for the guy; having a crush on Dean was probably not easy. “C’mon, Cas, I know you won’t leave me hangin’,” his brother said over his shoulder as he walked out of the room, laughing to himself.
Sam could tell Dean was in a good mood, so maybe today was the best time for Castiel to say something. “I’m still your friend, Cas,” Sam said as they walked out to the Impala after putting all their books back, throwing a small smile at Castiel. “If anything goes wrong, just come to me.”
Castiel stopped and looked up at Sam with wide disturbed eyes. Before Sam could ask what was wrong, the Angel’s face calmed and then he actually gave a nearly non-existent smile. “Yes, of course, Sam,” he answered. “I’m sure I can handle Dean myself, though. Thank you for your concern.”
“Anytime,” Sam said, smiling as he turned to walk the rest of the way to the car, sliding in. As he heard Castiel get into the back and shut the door, he looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye. His brother was looking into the rear view mirror, tender warmth in his eyes, only making his smile that much more potent. Sam knew his brother better than he knew himself, and he knew that look. That alone just gave Sam confidence that, maybe, he would have to get a different room tonight.
Warnings: Major Character Death
Word Count: 2,777
Author’s Note: I meant for this to be a drabble but it turned into a straight one shot. Enjoy this super late entry to my 30 day challenge. Two more drabbles are coming tonight. Thanks!
“Just pick one, Cas,” Dean said, trying not to laugh out loud in public. If there was one thing he didn’t want, it was unwanted attention. Especially right now.
“Dean, I do not understand why you want me to pick one. I thought we were here for you.” Castiel said, his voice wavering with uncertainty as he was led to the next case. He looked down the bridge of his nose as if the pieces inside offended him, though, really, Castiel cared little for material objects.
Snappapple just wrote a beautiful recommendation for my Endverse!fic, Never Leave Me, and it was so wonderful. I don’t really know how to express how thankful I am to her, but she pretty much summed up my fic better than I ever could have!
You guys should check her out, she’s awesome, and has some pretty cool art!
Soon enough, the last of the plates and glasses had been packed away, the newspaper crinkling as Castiel gently pushed the flaps of the box closed, looking about the kitchen to check if he missed anything. A hint of sadness tugged at his heart momentarily as he looked around the room, his hands in his pockets. They’d lived there for years, now, and for some reason their move was still as strange to him as when he had first heard about his new job.
The soft pattering of little feet dragged him from his daze, looking down to see his daughter, Emma, running in from the living room, Dean following closely behind. They smiled at one another as little hands grabbed at Castiel’s slacks, and he knelt down to pick her up, running a hand through her raven black hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I see her nap didn’t last long,” he said, grinning at his husband.
Dean shrugged, obviously lacking to energy to care very much. The last few days had been nothing but packing, and with a 4 year old running around, it wasn’t as easy as they had hoped, causing Dean to become sleep deprived. Castiel had woken up a number of times that week and found him wide awake, obviously frustrated and exhausted. Moving closer to Dean’s side, Castiel placed his hands on either side of his face, looking into his eyes with an understanding gaze. He hated it when Dean suffered like this, especially when there was almost nothing he could do about it.
They would lie together in silence, Dean kissing Castiel’s face from time to time in a quiet thank you, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
“Daddy,” Emma said, her hands touching Castiel’s hair, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled up at him, her large brown eyes shining as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Daddy, when are we supposed to leave?” Her question was softly spoken, as if she could sense the amount of stress the move was putting on her parents, and Castiel thanked God for his empathetic child.
“Tomorrow morning, Emma,” he replied, giving her an eskimo kiss and handing her off to Dean. “So we all need to relax today. Don’t wear Dean out. He’s tired as it is.” He finished his short lecture by pulling Dean closer for a soft kiss.
Dean grinned, kissing him back briefly before Emma began to whine and laugh at the same time. “Okay, baby, let’s go take a nap, then,” he said with a chuckle, giving Castiel a gentle smile over his shoulder as he carried Emma back upstairs to their room.
Castiel had to tell himself that the move would be good for his family, that his new job at the University would be worth this whole week. As he moved the last of the boxes to the side, he finally nodded to himself. Yes, things were fine. Everything was perfect. The move was a blessing, the job was a gift, all for his family, and he couldn’t think any less of it.
Purgatory was lonely. It was quiet, dark, dangerous. Dean’s ears had learned to pick up the smallest of sounds, and his eyes had started to adjust to the gloom. He would always find himself thinking about home, about humans, about his brother, about Bobby… The Hunter had lost track of the days he had been stuck in this nightmare, and it wasn’t getting any better.
But then there was Castiel, the one who gladly followed him when he had told Dean time and again that he didn’t want to fight. He would look up from his place against a tree to watch him looking off into the distance, alert and ready to protect his friend with everything he had. He even stuck around when all Dean did was take his anger out on him, and it was more than he had expected from Castiel. Truth be told, Dean had thought the Angel would have left him long ago to try and find his own way home, sick of Dean’s attitude. The fact that he didn’t caused Dean to let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. Castiel was a true friend, and a better one than Dean felt he deserved.
As he shoved the thought away, Dean looked back up at Castiel, who had turned around to look down at him, his blue eyes bright with curiosity.
So, Purgatory was lonely… But Dean Winchester wasn’t alone.