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dean loves the angel’s coat
it’s worn roughness and damp texture (he swears he doesn’t wear it when it rains so it will always smell like him he really doesn’t honest) were a sensory overload of memories that tore fresh holes but kept cas alive… it was only in his head, and despite himself he was starting to forget what the angel… his angel looked like
…
when dean gave him his coat back it was slightly damp and still dirty, still stained with blood
castiel made it new again. it still smelt of rain.
…
blood splashed on the sleeve of the angel’s trench coat. an implacable fist descended again and again
we’re family cas. we need you. i need you… .. no cas no please
the hunter’s fingers grasped the coat…