Dean has been torn between wanting to call Cas and tell him to get his angelic cul, ass down there and keeping him as far away as possible for the last week. His little trip to that fucked up alternate universe courtesy of Balthazar and Cas actually taught him a few things. One actors are dicks, two he's really glad Cas is…well Cas and not some freak with a weird name like Misha who constantly has a phone glued to his hand, and three that Cas actually was trying to protect them, in his own weird, socially inept way and he is damn grateful. Not that he would ever admit that out loud of course, he isn't a girl ou Sam, but he gets it now ou at least he kind of does and he knows he should apologize, avaler, hirondelle his pride and stop being such a dick (as Sam so kindly pointed out) but hell that just goes against ever fiber of his being.
Leaning against the capuche, hotte of the Impala, which is currently in Bobby's scrap yard, and taking a long swig of bière Dean smiles as he looks in the window. The sight he sees is Bobby and Sammy huddled up over some new-old book that came in the mail earlier, looking like Christmas had come incredibly early this year. He laughed, when seeing Sam's full, dorky smile, that smile took him back to days before everything went wrong. Days before Jess, Azazel, and Lucifer, days before hell, when he was just a kid in a field looking at Dean like he held the whole damn world in the palm of his hand. Like he was some kind of a hero, instead of some kind of monster. And if that smile made his cœur, coeur clinch in some pathetic and really fucking girly way that caused the hint of tears to sting at his eyes with the memory of the innocence he had somehow been able to let Sam keep, even if only for a little while, well then, nobody would have been able to prove it.
Dean was torn from these thoughts when he heard the unmistakable flurry of wings somewhere in the wreckage to his left. He immediately froze, his cœur, coeur picking up speed as he pulled his gun out without even pausing for a moment to think. It couldn't be Cas. He would never have appeared off in some aléatoire place, a hiding place; he would have just appeared way too fucking close to Dean for him to notice anything but the blue of his eyes and the gravel of his voice.
Shaking himself from his thoughts to focus on the situation at hand one name came to mind. Balthazar. And yeah, he really hoped it was that manipulative dick because he'd like to give him a piece of his mind. Maybe he could sort of understand why Cas had done it, but that assclown was another thing. They didn't have some embarrassing 'profound bond' as Cas had so unabashedly put it and he sure as hell wouldn't have any qualms about sticking him in a holy feu in the middle of a desert where it never fucking rains. Now that he was thinking about it, Dean really needed to have a conversation with Cas about who he called friends.
Once again forcing himself to focus he crept toward the place the noise was coming from and the closer he got the plus he heard. Some sort of rustle, heavy breathing, a groan perhaps. Then it all went silent, an otherworldly, eerie kind of silent. The silent kind of shit they make horror films about. When he stepped around the corner, as quietly as this world would allow, he saw a foot jutting out from the car and how damn pathetic was it that he would recognize that shoe anywhere? But hell it wasn't like he hadn't been wearing the same pair for over three years now, poor guy he should probably take him shopping too. When his mind finally caught up with itself he realized he was just standing there gun drawn on the other side of the car out of Cas' view, but with Cas in his. At that moment Cas turned around, facing him and that is when it hit him. Cas. He quickly put his gun away and rushed between the cars stopping right in front of him not exactly sure what was going to come next. And he just knew he would have trouble banishing the sight that met him in Bobby's yard that jour from his nightmares for years to come, then well it was nobodies' damn business.
"Cas!" he half whispered, half yelled cœur, coeur clinching in an entirely different way than before as he tried to déplacer closer to the man who had somehow wormed his way into Dean's life, and maybe even his heart.
"Hello, Dean," he responded and if the situation hadn't been so utterly terrifying he might have allowed a small smile to grace his features at the thought that some things about Cas really would never change, but as it stood he almost grimaced.
"What the hell happened, dude? Are toi okay?" growing steadily plus frightened the plus he looked at the man standing in front of him his entire chemise soaked red with blood, blood coated his face, and even hands, a bloody angelic blade held loosely par his side. He had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to pull him toward Bobby's house and make him lay down, ou take him to the doctor. Just do something. But he knew Cas would simply look at him with his head cocked to the side and tell him he was fine. At least he imagined that's how that conversation would have gone.
Then Cas' expression changed. And during the brief moment that something of triumph, terror, and tragedy crossed the angel's features he allowed himself to wonder if they had won. The thought taking him par surprise because he'd never considered the war in Heaven his to win, he didn't even know shit about it, but somehow he had always believed Cas. Believed that if Cas Lost everyone did. He wondered if there was plus to it than that, but didn't have time to contemplate further as a tiny breath, wrecked with the kind of pain that Dean wished his friend would never have to know, escaped.
The suivant moment was one Dean would never forget. He could be trapped in hell for all of eternity and become some sick and twisted kind of monster, but he knew with absolute certainty no matter what happened in this life ou the suivant this moment was going to stick with him forever. Cas had merely looked up at him, too blue eyes growing moist with what looked like tears, and if it wasn't the most heartbreaking thing he could imagine to see an Angel cry he damn sure didn't know what was. And when he spoke his voice was deeper and clearer than Dean had ever heard before, even though it was only a whisper. "Raphael is dead."
Leaning against the capuche, hotte of the Impala, which is currently in Bobby's scrap yard, and taking a long swig of bière Dean smiles as he looks in the window. The sight he sees is Bobby and Sammy huddled up over some new-old book that came in the mail earlier, looking like Christmas had come incredibly early this year. He laughed, when seeing Sam's full, dorky smile, that smile took him back to days before everything went wrong. Days before Jess, Azazel, and Lucifer, days before hell, when he was just a kid in a field looking at Dean like he held the whole damn world in the palm of his hand. Like he was some kind of a hero, instead of some kind of monster. And if that smile made his cœur, coeur clinch in some pathetic and really fucking girly way that caused the hint of tears to sting at his eyes with the memory of the innocence he had somehow been able to let Sam keep, even if only for a little while, well then, nobody would have been able to prove it.
Dean was torn from these thoughts when he heard the unmistakable flurry of wings somewhere in the wreckage to his left. He immediately froze, his cœur, coeur picking up speed as he pulled his gun out without even pausing for a moment to think. It couldn't be Cas. He would never have appeared off in some aléatoire place, a hiding place; he would have just appeared way too fucking close to Dean for him to notice anything but the blue of his eyes and the gravel of his voice.
Shaking himself from his thoughts to focus on the situation at hand one name came to mind. Balthazar. And yeah, he really hoped it was that manipulative dick because he'd like to give him a piece of his mind. Maybe he could sort of understand why Cas had done it, but that assclown was another thing. They didn't have some embarrassing 'profound bond' as Cas had so unabashedly put it and he sure as hell wouldn't have any qualms about sticking him in a holy feu in the middle of a desert where it never fucking rains. Now that he was thinking about it, Dean really needed to have a conversation with Cas about who he called friends.
Once again forcing himself to focus he crept toward the place the noise was coming from and the closer he got the plus he heard. Some sort of rustle, heavy breathing, a groan perhaps. Then it all went silent, an otherworldly, eerie kind of silent. The silent kind of shit they make horror films about. When he stepped around the corner, as quietly as this world would allow, he saw a foot jutting out from the car and how damn pathetic was it that he would recognize that shoe anywhere? But hell it wasn't like he hadn't been wearing the same pair for over three years now, poor guy he should probably take him shopping too. When his mind finally caught up with itself he realized he was just standing there gun drawn on the other side of the car out of Cas' view, but with Cas in his. At that moment Cas turned around, facing him and that is when it hit him. Cas. He quickly put his gun away and rushed between the cars stopping right in front of him not exactly sure what was going to come next. And he just knew he would have trouble banishing the sight that met him in Bobby's yard that jour from his nightmares for years to come, then well it was nobodies' damn business.
"Cas!" he half whispered, half yelled cœur, coeur clinching in an entirely different way than before as he tried to déplacer closer to the man who had somehow wormed his way into Dean's life, and maybe even his heart.
"Hello, Dean," he responded and if the situation hadn't been so utterly terrifying he might have allowed a small smile to grace his features at the thought that some things about Cas really would never change, but as it stood he almost grimaced.
"What the hell happened, dude? Are toi okay?" growing steadily plus frightened the plus he looked at the man standing in front of him his entire chemise soaked red with blood, blood coated his face, and even hands, a bloody angelic blade held loosely par his side. He had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to pull him toward Bobby's house and make him lay down, ou take him to the doctor. Just do something. But he knew Cas would simply look at him with his head cocked to the side and tell him he was fine. At least he imagined that's how that conversation would have gone.
Then Cas' expression changed. And during the brief moment that something of triumph, terror, and tragedy crossed the angel's features he allowed himself to wonder if they had won. The thought taking him par surprise because he'd never considered the war in Heaven his to win, he didn't even know shit about it, but somehow he had always believed Cas. Believed that if Cas Lost everyone did. He wondered if there was plus to it than that, but didn't have time to contemplate further as a tiny breath, wrecked with the kind of pain that Dean wished his friend would never have to know, escaped.
The suivant moment was one Dean would never forget. He could be trapped in hell for all of eternity and become some sick and twisted kind of monster, but he knew with absolute certainty no matter what happened in this life ou the suivant this moment was going to stick with him forever. Cas had merely looked up at him, too blue eyes growing moist with what looked like tears, and if it wasn't the most heartbreaking thing he could imagine to see an Angel cry he damn sure didn't know what was. And when he spoke his voice was deeper and clearer than Dean had ever heard before, even though it was only a whisper. "Raphael is dead."
