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The thought he is dead, he is dead, he is fucking-really dead kept repeating in his mind and it was as if that was the only thing he could hear.
He couldn’t take his eyes away, his world narrowed down to the almost translucent, bone-white face - to pale, plum lips he never had a chance to taste- to the chest that doesn’t move.
He'd stopped breathing himself, everything suspended, he felt numb and hollow. It was as if Cas had taken his heart and everything that mattered away with him on his glowing lights.
Maybe it’d be a relief to give up his life after all, only if he could just stop breathing ....
He was so tired, so empty, he just really didn't want to go on. There wasn’t a reason for him to go on. Not anymore. Not without him.
All he wanted was to have Cas back with him again, not perfect and not always present but he’d feel him, impossibly weird, grumpy and his. He just wanted to have those impossibly blue eyes stare at him with that intense look, like he was something precious, like he’d hung the moon. He wanted those eyes to roll in fond exhaustion at his fucked up choices and stubbornness. He wanted that mouth to curl up into half smiles which made his knee go all jittery.
He heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath behind him. Then a sigh: slow, shaky and labored. Running footsteps getting distant.
His legs gave out. He dropped to his knees and crumbled down to the ground, limp like a ragdoll.
Then he’d breathed in, sharp and greedy and it was loud in his ears, his bloody lungs forced him to breathe despite knowing Cas wouldn’t breathe again.
His heart rebelled at the unfairness of it all. How could he live when Cas was gone? Cas's gone, he's gone, this time he’s really gone.
And of all the times of the universe they never had enough. They never had a fucking minute to tell him...
He swallowed, took an erratic breath. It was too painful to imagine if Cas had lived. To imagine admitting he loved him, imagine Cas' wide-eyed reaction, imagine Cas returning his feelings.
Something angry and violent ripped through him. He dug his fingernails into his palms so hard the skin broke, and he knew if he looked there’d be blood, red and sticky, welling from the wounds.
His hand clutched tight on the lapels of Cas’ coat as he pulled him into his lap, cradling that beloved, stubborn head. "You just keep doing this, don't you? Damn you Cas, you have to stop! How many times do I have to see you die? Just— why do you have to be such a pig-headed, fucking dumbass?" he choked, tone filled with affection.
Tears started to spill down his cheeks and he didn't move to wipe them away, just let them drip down onto Cas’ face. Reaching out a tentative, trembling hand, he smothered his tears on that dear face, flinching slightly at how cold it felt. He ran his thumb over Cas' full lips and the pad of his thumb caught on those characteristically chapped skin. "God, you're such an idiot. A stupid, brave, beautiful idiot. And I'll never be able to tell you just how much—"
He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder, ’’Dean?’’ Sam asked softly, giving him a searching, worrying look before he said quietly. ’'We need to go.’’
Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes never strayed from Cas’ face as he entwined their fingers, then pulled and pressed the back of Cas' hand against his chest.
“No,” he snapped, shaking Sam’s hand off. ’’No,’’ he whispered again, his fingers clutching Cas’ in a tight grip.
“Dean -” Sam tried again, his voice shaky but Dean shook his head. He didn't want to hear it, he didn’t care.
“You don't understand,” Dean muttered. Bowing his head he let out a small, self-deciphering laugh, “I love him,” he admitted. Pulling Cas closer, he buried his face in the crook of his angel’s neck and shoulder, ’’And I just don’t know if I can go on without him Sammy... I just--’’ his voice came out cracked and anguished, ’’I’ve never had the chance to tell him... to tell him... what he really meant to me," Dean choked on a broken sob.
“Of course,” Sam sighed and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder again. He pressed slightly down for a moment before he turned on his heels.
Dean inhaled long and rickety and swallowed all the things he still wanted to say to Cas.
So much wasted time.
Pulling back, Dean cupped Cas' cheek and pressed his forehead against Cas’ cool skin. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. Sinking his fingers into Cas' hair, he leaned down and kissed those bloodless, cold, full lips he's longed for years to taste, and his heart clenched at the thought that it was their first and last kiss.
And then Cas breathed.
It was a harsh sound, shallow and struggling, cracking through Dean like an electric bolt- but it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Cas' body jerked in Dean's arms as he was gasping for breath. His eyes flew open, a burning gold that seemed to stare straight into Dean’s soul.
“Cas?” Dean choked, feeling his arms slacken in shock before he quickly wrapped and tightened them around Cas' with a sound, that was half a laugh and half a sob.
The gold faded from Cas’ eyes and he blinked up at Dean in confusion, a frown pinching his brows. “Dean?” he slurred, trying to sit up.
Dean laughed again with a rush of joyful relief. He trailed his fingers through Cas' adorably messy hair, then cupping the back of his neck, he pulled Cas' head closer, and pressed his lips to Cas'. And he just stayed like that, breathing Cas in, feeling shattered, how those small, hot puffs of air of Cas's breath could send shivers of happiness down his spine.
After long seconds, when he pulled reluctantly back, Cas' eyes were wide, his pale cheeks still cool but the deathly cold was gone. And with eyes still brimming with tears, Dean just grinned down at Cas and grinned... he just couldn’t stop it.
Because Dean didn't care how it happened, didn't care if God or Hell or the Nephilim or whatever miracle brought him back.
He had Cas alive again, and it was all that mattered. It was everything.