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In that motel room, Castiel wasn’t sure about time. He didn’t realize when night was over to let the day begin or when day started to become night. He didn’t care actually. Every day felt the same since he was in that motel room, waiting for Sam to call and tell him anything about Dean. Since Dean disappeared, Castiel hasn’t known anything about Dean. He isn’t sure if he is dead or if he is just possessed or something else. And it kills him.
He misses Dean a lot, to the point that it hurts more than his fading grace. He wants to find Dean, and hopefully help him with whatever is going on with him. He just wants his Dean back, the Dean he has known before he got the Mark of Cain, before Dean became a gloomy and psycho shadow of the extraordinary man he used to be. He wants that dorky badass Dean he has always known, with his sarcasm, with his charm, with his smile.
Castiel looks at his phone, resting on the bedside table, hoping that Sam will call him soon, but the screen doesn’t light up. So he just takes a deep breath and stares at the dark ceiling of the room. He is too exhausted; sometimes he doesn’t even find the strength to get up from bed. He just wants to stay there, trying to feel better, but that feeling never comes. It’s not only about the grace, it’s about the loss of Dean as well; it is what it is killing him faster than his stolen grace.
He closes his eyes, trying to get some sleep. Sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he doesn’t. It depends on his grace and his mood, he supposes. He doesn’t worry about it anymore. Castiel’s worries are only about Dean, and where he is and if he will ever find him.
Castiel needs to looks at those beautiful green eyes again, at that freckles face, trying to count every single one of the freckles that forms that huge galaxy, to see Dean smile, to hear him speak again, to look at him in that way that only Dean does. Maybe, if he is able to see him again, he will try to tell him what he really feels about him. He is scared of Dean’s reaction, but, he isn’t sure if he can hold back his feelings towards Dean anymore.
“I already know how you feel about me.” Dean says.
Castiel startles in his bed and turns to look at the man who is kneeling next to his bed, with one of his elbows resting on the mattress and one hand reaching to touch Castiel’s hip, caressing it gently. “You are not real.” Castiel murmurs.
“No. But you wish I was it.” Dean makes a comforting smile and he looks at the skin his hand is touching. “Your fever is making you to see me.”
“And why am I seeing you right now?” His eyes feel hot as they turn glassy. His heart aches to the knowledge that this Dean isn’t the real Dean, is a hallucination caused by his fever, but he wants so badly that it was the real Dean.
“Because you want to. And you keep blaming yourself for my death.”
“You aren’t dead.”
“You don’t know.” He takes a deep breath and with his left hand, the one which was resting on his face, goes towards Castiel’s hair, and Dean combs it gently and sweetly. Castiel closes his eyes and a tear falls down. He suppresses a sob. It isn’t Dean, Dean isn’t here, but still, he doesn’t want to cry. He has cried enough. “It wasn’t your fault, you know?” His fingers keep combing his messy dark hair, making Castiel wish that the real Dean would have ever done that. “You destroyed the tablet and locked Metatron.”
“But I did it too late.” He opens his glassy eyes to dedicate Dean a devastated look. “I did everything I could, like I always do, and as always I failed.”
Dean’s hand goes now to cup Castiel’s face. That hand isn’t real, but Castiel leans into the touch, feeling a warmth that doesn’t exist, but he wants to pretend that it is it. “You don’t always fail, Cas.”
“Yeah? Tell me just one occasion I didn’t fail.”
“When you saved me from hell.” His voice comes out in the sweetest possible way. Castiel sighs and closes his eyes. Unconsciously, his hand reaches the one Dean has cupping his face and he tangles their fingers together. “You didn’t do everything wrong after all.”
Castiel can’t help to let out an acid and heartbreaking chuckle. “I tried to watch over you and look how great I did.” He takes a deep breath and he kisses the back of Dean’s hand. “I wish nothing of this had happened, that things were so different, that you were really here with me.” He squeezes Dean’s hand with his and he shuns Dean’s eyes. They are as bright as Dean’s real ones. “Why does this hurt so much?” He asks with a heartbreaking voice.
“Because you love me.” Dean simply answers. Castiel closes his eyes. His chest is starting to feel oppressed, difficult his breathing. “And I love you too.”
The fading angel tilts his head to look into those eyes he has always loved to get lost in. “You know that’s something really hard to believe because it comes from a hallucination, right?” He sasses with a hurt voice.
Dean smirks. “Yeah. But deep down, you do know that I love you. I might not know it, I might not recognize it, but you do know well that I love you.”
Castiel wants to believe, he really wants, but Dean will never reciprocate his feelings. Why would Dean love someone as broken as Castiel? He keeps just screwing everything up and Dean has always to fix them. Dean is the righteous man, so wonderful and extraordinary and Castiel is just some broken fallen angel. He isn’t worth and he will never be.
“You want a proof of my love?” Dean asks.
“It’s not your love. You aren’t real, you are just some hallucination.” Castiel says desperate. It hurts too much to know that he is having this conversation with his mind, which has decided to shape into Dean.
“Forget about that, Cas, forget that it’s not really me, that I’m just your mind, forget it for just a single moment, can you?” He asks with a really needy and heartbreaking voice. His eyes rest on Castiel’s, giving him an intense look. Castiel just nods; he doesn’t know what else he can do. “While I had the Mark of Cain, you were the only one who made me smile. I could still be myself every time I was around you. Because I love you, because the love I felt for you make me get the best of me even when there was only darkness inside me.”
“You are exaggerating.” He says with tears in his eyes. He is fighting really hard not to let them out.
Dean sighs. “Keep denying it as long as you want to. But you know I’m telling you the truth. I love you, Cas. I will always love you. Maybe I won’t be able to say it out loud, but I do. I wish I was able to express all those things I feel for you but—” He takes a deep breath and rests his forehead on Castiel’s, making Castiel’s heart to do wild things at the image of having Dean this close, with the green forest of his eyes looking at his blue ones. “One day, when there aren’t more wars between angels and demons, when the gates of heaven and hell are closed, we will be able to love each other freely. No more bullshit, no more pain, no more secrets, just you and me together, loving each other, having that happy life that both of us really want but we don’t let anybody know.”
“Dean—” He wants to say so many things but he can’t; not only because words are stuck in his throat, because Dean is kissing him, tenderly and softly. It is not real, it’s just Castiel’s imagination, but still, it feels real and wonderful. Although it makes Castiel’s heart hurt because he knows that it isn’t real and it will never be it.
“Just rest, Cas.” Dean stands up and he presses a kiss on Castiel’s forehead.
Castiel closes his eyes, feeling the unreal touch of Dean’s lips on his feverish forehead. When he opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of Dean; Castiel is all alone once again in that motel room, only accompanied by the pain in his heart and the fever that is spreading through his body.
Again, Castiel closes his eyes and he takes a deep breath. He hopes that he will be able to fall asleep. And surprisingly, he does it, and like every time he is able to fall asleep, he dreams, and naturally, those dreams are always about the same person. The man with green eyes, freckles and a beautiful smile. About a man Castiel has always given everything up for. About a man Castiel wishes he could have a happy live with. About a man he loves more than everything. About a man named Dean Winchester.