Work Text:
Wish We Could Turn Back Time
Dean is dying in his arms. Again. Castiel is cradling Dean’s head in his arms, trying to soothe the dying man because he doesn’t know what else to do- even after all this time, all these tries.
The consuming misery the angel is feeling has little to do with the dimming light in his human’s eyes. Well, that's the reason for his misery, but this particular occasion doesn’t have as much of an effect as the first times did. Castiel is used to seeing Dean die. It tends not to affect him because he simply refuses to accept it.
Dean’s recurring death is the root of all of Castiel’s problems. His misery is not because of Dean’s death, but due to the angel’s failure to save him- again.
He’s lost count of how many times this exact scene has played out. He remembers the first time with stark clarity, though. Castiel remembers the promise he made in that moment just as well. The angel plans to stay true to his word.
But by now, he knows the formula of Dean’s death by heart. Dean will slip away beneath his hands. Castiel will try to lessen his suffering, incapable of saving him.
The formula is so familiar that Castiel isn’t surprised when Dean chokes out,
“I love you.”
Because that happens every time, too.
The first time Dean said that, the first time he died, the angel’s heart stopped. It seemed that Dean only let himself slip when it was his last chance to say the things that had been left unsaid.
Castiel does the only thing he knows to do, the same thing he did the first time.
“I love you, too.”
Dean has just enough time left to manage a smile before his light dims entirely and his face goes from pained to peaceful. Castiel sits there for a few minutes, feeling his human go cold beneath his hands. His own hands are drenched in Dean’s blood. Castiel’s heart wrenches in his chest.
He wants to scream. He knows he doesn’t deserve this. He’s always tried to do the right thing. He never even meant to fall in love with Dean- he just did. He wants to curse his Father, to beg for forgiveness for whatever he’s done, to find a timeline where Dean won’t die.
Castiel closes his eyes and prays. Like always, there’s no reply. So Castiel heaves himself onto heavy feet, averting his gaze from Dean’s lifeless body as he turns back time to try again.
He’ll do it someday. He’ll find a way to keep Dean alive. He will. He loves Dean so much it hurts. He can’t allow himself to give up, can’t allow Dean to die for good. He’ll find the right combination of things to do someday.
Castiel is tired. He’s exhausted in every sense of the word. So many times, he’s failed. The angel’s tried everything.
Almost everything, anyways. It isn’t time he’s thought about one particular course of action. He swore at one point that he wouldn’t ever do it. But like his hope, his resolve has slowly melted away with each failed attempt.
So Castiel tries something incredibly different the next time he turns back time.
He walks away from the barn.
They never meet. Dean will never laugh will him, have friendship turn into something else- not in this world. They won’t ever know each other- except in Castiel’s memories.
Dean lives this time.
It’s unfair. No, it’s outright cruel. Castiel feels like his heart is breaking, shattering into thousands of pieces. No, that isn’t right. It feels more like his heart is being wrenched from his chest, torn out, and ripped apart. He watches Dean go on without him from afar. He knows Dean’s slipped away from him. Castiel convinces himself that this is better than letting Dean’s life slip away.
Dean can be happy without him, live on without him. Never mind that he’ll never know the happiness that came with loving his angel, the joy that Castiel brought him.
Castiel tries to move on.
He can’t. The pass of time doesn’t heal him.
Dean seems happy without him. Never mind that they’ll never spend time together laughing or hunting. Never mind that Dean won’t know what Castiel sacrificed for him, what Castiel gave up to allow him to live. Dean won’t ever know. He doesn’t have to. He can’t.
Castiel eventually rationalizes that if he has to go without Dean, he’d rather go on with the hunter alive than dead. It’s better never to meet him than to have him ripped away time and time again.
Castiel desperately wishes he could forget, though. There’s a piece missing from him. He can feel it- and it hurts.
Sometimes he wonders if Dean feels the same way. Castiel always wants to approach him, but he never does. He can’t risk losing him again. He hates that he’s the only one who notices that when Dean’s alone, he looks sad. He hates that he can’t do anything about it.
Castiel often wonders if Dean can feel the same hole that he does. He hates that he can’t ask.
Whenever Castiel wants to, he closes his eyes and reminds himself that at least Dean’s alive. A life without him is better than him having no life at all.
But his heart still twists in his chest at the unfairness of it all whenever Dean’s name crosses his mind. He’ll make it, somehow. He’s done it before.
It’s a chilly autumn day when Dean meets Castiel supposedly for the first time.
Dean doesn’t know the man who suddenly appears before him. The hunter stares at the man in confusion, a curse halfway to leaving his lips. Then, in a way that all too closely resembles a chick flick, Dean loses himself in brilliant azure eyes- utterly forgetting what he was going to say.
God, he could stare into those eyes all day. They’re strangely familiar and simultaneously foreign. Something is screaming at him from the depths of his mind, a lost memory struggling to surface. Dean tries to unearth the lost memory, but it slips away from his grasp like autumn leaves on the wind.
The man doesn’t speak. He’s in too much pain to do so. Both of his hands are grasping his side. Crimson blossoms beneath them, staining through various layers of clothing. The stranger’s awareness seems to flutter, unfocused eyes landing Dean’s face. They light up with recognition. He looks at Dean through hooded eyes with a look akin to relief. Peace, maybe. The permanent weariness etched deep into his face instantly disappears, replaced by a soft smile that shaves years off his face.
Then, one hand leaves his bleeding side to cup the side of Dean’s face. Those azure eyes graze into his bright green ones, searching for something. Dean doesn’t know if the stranger finds it. His words are strained with agony when he speaks, yet they’re just as strong, determined.
“I love you.”
Dean isn’t sure why he answers. Something’s stirring in the deepest corners of his minds, tugging at him and begging to be unleashed. Dean doesn’t think. He just feels. He feels something fluttering inside of him. Something he hasn’t ever felt with the same magnitude- it’s never been so strong before- but the hunter recognizes it, knows it. What Dean doesn’t know is why the feeling is directing itself towards an unfamiliar man.
It’s the feeling that compels him to instinctively blurt out a reply before he can think better of it.
“I love you, too.”
Dean isn’t sure, but he thinks a melancholy smile graces the face of the stranger. The stranger’s hand falls back to his side, smearing a bloody handprint on the side of Dean’s face. Then, Castiel slumps forward into Dean’s arms, lifeless.