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“I love you.” Shining eyes. A sad smile on his mouth.
“Don’t do this, Cass.” Desperation coursed through Dean.
He smiled softly, tears streaming down his face. The Empty appeared. The door finally gave.
“Goodbye, Dean.”
Dean jolted awake, sweat sticking his shirt to his chest, tears wetting his cheeks. Still shaking slightly, he rolled onto his side to check the alarm clock, groaning when its soft, blinking light showed 8:00 pm. Sam would be in to check on him soon, worried that Dean had slept so late, and he needed to look presentable.
“Pull yourself together for five fucking minutes, Winchester,” he muttered, ripping the covers off of himself and standing up. He immediately collapsed back into the bed, knees giving out, muscles quivering with the effort it had taken to hold him up. “Fuck,” he whispered. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he buried his head in his hands, letting the tears take over again.
That was how Sam found him five minutes later- sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, shoulders quaking with the force of his muffled sobs.
“Dean?” Sam asked cautiously, approaching Dean, waiting for him to react. “Get the fuck out of my room, Sammy!” Dean yelled, lifting his red, tear-stained face to stare defiantly at his brother. “Dean.” Sam sighed, moving to sit beside his brother despite the latter’s immediate, violent shift away from him.
“I mean it, Sam. Go away,” Dean warned, voice low.
“Dean, you know I can’t leave you alone like this,” Sam reasoned, moving a hand to his brother’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Dean glared at him, anger marring his features, when something shifted quietly in his eyes. His eyebrows drew together, eyes squeezing shut as tears leaked out, before he collapsed into Sam’s arms, shuddering violently under a fresh onslaught of stifled cries. Memories of Cass infiltrated Dean’s thoughts, taking over everything in their path.
“Sammy…he’s dead, he’s gone…and I never even got to tell him that I-” Dean choked, unable to continue. His breathing quickened, harsh wheezing noises filling the room as he became increasingly upset.
Dean lay there, encircled by Sam’s gentle embrace, struggling to breathe as he desperately tried not to think of Castiel, his voice, his hands, those beautiful blue eyes-
“Dean, Dean, you need to breathe-” Sam slid a hand under Dean’s chin, lifting his head to force him to meet Sam’s gaze. “Breathe with me, okay?” Sam began taking deep, exaggerated breaths, not stopping until Dean followed suit. His breathing gradually slowed until he could inhale normally again, only a few tears escaping his eyes every few seconds.
“Sorry.” Dean muttered, fidgeting with his hands and refusing to look at Sam.
“It’s fine, Dean. Do you want me to make dinner for you?”
Dean shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll try that new diner that opened down the street. What’s it called, uh, Buckey’s.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Dean, you haven’t left the house since-”
Dean stood up, cutting Sam off by loudly announcing, “I’m gonna go now. Bye, Sammy,” and leaving the room.
He wanted to see those eyes again.
Bright, neon lights flashed by, advertising bars, restaurants, stores. Dean didn’t care.
Nothing really registered in his mind during the drive, haunting blue eyes flashing in his vision like the hint of a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. He pulled Baby into a spot, putting her in park with shaking hands, and grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the backseat.
Hey, Sammy.
I’m so sorry. I wish I didn’t have to do this. You’ve lost so much already. But you’ll be okay. I promise.
I love you. I always have, always will.
I hope you can forgive me for this, someday.
-Dean
Dean got out of the car, tucking the note behind the wheel, and stepped up to stand on the edge of the bridge. The water was still, dark, almost serene in its appearance. It bore an eerie resemblance to the Empty. An escape.
Dean took one step closer, now grasping the railing to avoid falling. He looked around, making sure there were no civilians nearby.
He inhaled.
Closed his eyes.
Let go of the railing, and for a second he was leaning, then falling, falling, falling until-
A hand curled around his left shoulder, the faint noise of flapping wings audible as Dean felt himself be lifted upwards. What?
Dean opened his eyes cautiously. The first thing he saw was light brown fabric whipping around him, right before his feet landed on solid ground. He turned around, not daring to hope but still whispering, “Cass?”
His eyes landed on familiar, vibrant blue eyes and his vision instantly blurred. A surprised grunt was audible as he lunged for the angel, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug as his tears returned at full force. “Cass, fuck, Cass,” he sobbed, grasping desperately at the back of Castiel’s trench coat.
“Dean,” rasped the angel, bringing a hand up to rest gently between his shoulder blades.
They stayed there for half an hour, clinging to each other, both unwilling to let go under any circumstances. Finally, after Dean’s cries had subsided, he pulled away, keeping his hands firmly on Castiel’s shoulders, unable to let go after wishing for him for so long.
“Dean-” Cass began, but Dean shook his head.
“I’m going first.” Castiel looked surprised, but nodded.
“Cass, I-” Dean’s voice cracked. “Fuck. Cass, I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
Castiel tilted his chin upwards, two sets of glistening eyes meeting in the quiet of the night. “Dean. I know.”
Dean brought a hand up to cup Castiel’s cheek, drawing him forwards until their lips brushed in a soft, tender kiss.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back at the bunker, Dean rushing Castiel by a shocked-looking Sam before locking his bedroom door and slamming the angel up against it, licking into his mouth with the fervor of a man who had been deprived of a vital substance for far too long.
Dean broke away, panting. “Fuck, Cass, how far do you want to go?”
Cass’s lips stretched into a soft smile. “Everything, Dean, I want everything.”