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Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh but it's gone again.
There was a distinct point at which something or maybe everything about his life had changed. Of course there were many points like that in any one persons life. Especially one as gruesome and brutal as his. But this moment defined the rest of his life and he had no idea at the time.
He often referred to it as Before Hell and After Hell when talking to other people. But in his heart and only to himself he gives it the correct term. It wasn't hell per se that changed him. Of course it had, there was no denying the damage it had inflicted. No, what changed everything was the angel who touched his soul in hell and rebuilt him and saved him. It was the flash of bursting lights and ringing in his ears. The words spoken to only him in the darkness of that barn. The shadow of wings against warding and lightning flashes. In private it's Before Cas and After Cas.
Meeting Cas was the event that singlehandedly changed Dean into something he'd never been before. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it. But he knows the man Cas found and in hell and the one he became because of Cas are not the same.
Falling in love with Cas was like catching lightning, electric, hot and dangerous. Every touch a chemical reaction so intense and pure. Every glance charged and heavy with something words could never truly define. Not for lack of trying on Dean's part. Every stolen moment alone, something precious and dangerous. Like any one of them could've been the moment one of them slipped. He always agonized about never crossing that line. He never imagined Cas felt the same way, never thought he could. That angels could.
Losing Cas was the feeling of all consuming, heart stopping, silence. It was like his brain stopped the moment he was gone. It got worse each time, leaving him craving only one thing, death. Release of everything. It was all his mind could focus on. It was automatic. Like he needed to follow him into the darkness. He began to understand Romeo and Juliet and their whole thing years ago.
At one point, Cas' death hadn't done this to him, when Rapheal killed him, that first time, at Chuck's. And when he was snapped out of existence in front of him, in the graveyard. But then he watched the leviathan kill him and walk his body into the lake, and it was like his heart walked in after him. Life was losing all meaning and he wasn't sure if he could keep fighting every day for a world without his purpose. Until he saw him again.
The next time he watched him die, caressed his lifeless face, and Gadreel brought him back.
He'd thought he knew grief completely before, he was sure he knew how bad it could get. Until he saw Lucifer drive an angel blade through Cas' heart, and all his hopes and dreams and will to live faded with the light of his angel dying. He was certain his heart had actually stopped, that he died from the pain of it. All he could do was stare at his lifeless form in the sand, broken wings burned into the ground, solidifying it in a way that felt more permanent. No deals this time. The days without him were empty in a way that left him unable to properly breathe. Like the air he was inhaling was toxic, slowly killing him. He couldn't think right. He'd taken the first chance to give up his life. Suicidal actions thinly disguised as a noble cause. He knew the odds of him coming back from that were low. He hadn't even considered Sam in that moment. Too wrapped up in his own desire too follow Cas always, even in death. His need to give up without him.
None of that compares to being left alone on the dungeon floor, Cas' confession repeating in his head. Every word hitting harder each time. The only sounds, his sobbing and the ringing phone. Once again, he hadn't even considered Sam. He'd been forced to watch him die again, he'd had to feel the bloody handprint soak through his clothing; And stayed there falling apart in every possible way long after it dried. If it felt final the last time, this was the end of every road, nothing else felt like it had mattered in that moment. Like anything else deserved to matter.
And it was written, I got cursed like Eve got bitten, Oh was it punishment?
He'd wondered if he was cursed, in that moment on the floor. Holding his head in his hands. He must me, Cas must be. He always loses the people he loves and he loses Cas in the worst ways. He always has to watch him die, nearly every time. And this time was the worst of all because he'd heard things about Cas' feelings that confirmed all his deepest wishes before it was ripped away. One final time. And instead of secretly wishing in the darkest shadows of his grief, he was realizing he always had what he wanted, and never took it. He'd messed this up with his fears, and it was all his fault that they'd never held each other, really. Never kissed, or even held hands. Every realization felt like something was scraping out his insides. He'd promised himself he'd never beg God again after he didn't bring Cas back last time he prayed. And yet he found himself, next to Sam, surrendereding to him. Once again asking him to bring Cas back. And everyone else. It hadn't worked. They eventually dealt with him. Dean still felt empty.
A greater woman wouldn't beg but I looked to the sky and said
Please, I've been on my knees
Change The Prophecy
He's remembered that when he'd lost Cas to Lucifer that he'd fallen to his knees. It was inevitable like the ground pulled him down of it's own accord. Like there was nothing else he could've done but fall, not caring what rocks his knees hit when they landed, barely even noticing. Compared to the insurmountable grief that was coursing through his veins like icy hot venom. Compared to that, the physical pain was nothing. It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered in that moment. His world had stopped and he could've done nothing to stop it. All he could do was watch in horror and scream Cas' name.
He'd looked to sky and begged for Cas to be there. Begged for this prophecy of theirs to end. He wasn't even sure he was asking God, just anyone that would listen. In hopes of getting Cas back. In a desperate attempt to see him again. To touch his warm skin and feel that he was alive. Not the cold skin he'd had to feel when caring him into the house. And wrapping him in sheets and curtain shreds. He'd understood what it was like to lose a lover and that was the moment he'd stopped lying to himself about what he was feeling. He'd then prayed to Chuck directly and gotten no response. He'd given up hope completely at that point.
Slow is the quicksand
Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand, oh
Still I dream of him
Every day without Cas left him sinking further into his grief. An unrecognizable mess. An ever so slow fate of becoming something not worthy of life anymore. It was becoming more and more difficult to pretend like he even wants to live. Losing Cas isn't something he knew how to recover from. Life without him feels like the color has been stripped from everything.
He'd thought more about the bloody handprint Cas had left on his shoulder, the same one he marked all those years ago. He'd absently wondered if Cas' blood was a poison that infected him in that moment. Eating away at his life slowly.
Back when he'd lost Cas to the leviathan, he'd dream of him every night. Nightmares of the lake. The black ooze tearing him apart. He'd wake in cold sweats and drank to drown the pain. When he'd lost him when Jack was born, he dreamt of him, each night. The bright light of his grace burning out in front of him. He'd dreamt of a life they could have together, happy. It was always ripped away when he woke up. He dreams of him now, of him being ripped away by the gooey wringling empty. He dreams of all the times he almost made a move, and of that causing Cas to get ripped away. He watches him get torn from memory after memory. When they'd met back up in purgatory when they were getting the blossom. He'd almost said it then. Later that night, after everything went down with Chuck, he almost said it again. So many stares that almost lead to him leaning in and closing that distance finally. He dreams of moments they never had, different confessions or actions and it all ends the same. With Cas being ripped from him again and again. He doesn't have happy dreams anymore.
But even statues crumble if they're made to wait
I'm so afraid I've sealed my fate
The longer this drags on, the longer each day feels. Like a movie with a boring plot, it drags you into some sort of bubble where time drags slower and every ache is worse in the discomfort. Maybe he's just losing his mind after all these years, figures, he'd lose it once he was finally free. Except, it didn't feel like freedom. It felt suffocating and suspended in place. Like he was stuck waiting for something that would never happen. Not now, no more deals are left to be made, no more spells.
He'd thought of the spell Nick tried to use, they didn't have it or any way to procure it. He'd had one ingredient, that much he knew, Cas' blood. On his jacket. He still has it, safe and untouched. He can't bring himself to look at it, much less touch it. He feared the mess he'd become if he did. He doesn't know if he's ready to face his grief head on, ignoring it certainly didn't help. That lead him to a close call with vampire mimes and months of recovery. He wasn't sure he could ever face it.
He's always been impatient, and temperamental. So to him, waiting was like holding your breath, underwater. You're not sure when you can breathe out again, or more importantly, in again. He hadn't known what to do with this feeling of waiting, like some part of him still thought he would see him again, some day. Like that is the only thing keeping him functioning. He wonders if he sealed his fate, choosing this life, he supposes Chuck sealed his fate, all of their fates. Dean still blames him for Cas' death, the deal had to be a part of his fucked up story. It was one last blow, one Dean couldn't survive. Sure he was alive, but he wasn't really living. He felt his facade crumbling every day as the grief stretches on, wrapping around him in a thick fog. He doesn't pretend around Sam anymore, he's too tired. He wasn't sure of who he was anymore. Wasn't sure when he stopped knowing, if it slipped away quietly or if one day he just turned it all off. He felt like a child, emotions too fucking big to process. He supposes it's because he was never taught how. Not really. Mary was gone. And John, was never really there, even when he was. And he'd get drunk, and angry, and say things. Awful things, made him believe he was weak for all the crying and desperate attempts for attention. He feels like he waited his whole life to be loved, cherished, and he still missed out on it. He was too late and too cowardice. He froze and Cas never knew and now he was gone, forever. Dean wonders if he'll ever love again. He laughs bitterly, knowing he won't. Cas is, was, it for him. No one else will ever fill that place in his life. He's known that for years.
Dean never believed in soulmates, especially after learning the true nature of them. But, sometimes, the idea sounded nice. Someone you're meant to find and when you do, that's it, no one else. He secretly loved forbidden romances too, something about the longing and private moments. Hiding and running. Sometimes, with Cas, that's how it felt. Like the whole world was against them and there was nothing they could do. And yet, they always found one another, they somehow stayed together. Even if they were never, together. He supposes, in a way, that was true. Cas wasn't supposed to chose Dean, Chuck didn't plan that. Cas was right when he said that they were what was real. Their love, was his one true act of free will. Fuck, he misses him. The idea of soulmates stopped sounding nice when he realized that finding a deep and complex connection was a lot more meaningful than having someone picked out for you. He wanted Cas and no one else. That's the love he built, the love he worked for. But if he did give a label to what he feels for Cas, soulmate would be a pretty perfect fit, except there was no sign of him. No sign he'll ever see him again.
But I looked to the sky and said "please"
He's had this nightly ritual ever since he healed from the vamp hunt, drive to a lake and pray to Cas under the stars. He knows it won't do anything. But part of him hopes. He almost can't help it. He never says everything that he wants to say in regards to Cas' confession or his goodbye. It's almost too painful to touch that with him not here. He knows he's missed his chance, whispering in the dark will do nothing. Instead he just begs for him to come back, to not be gone. Just to be here, with him.
It always starts the same, he parks the car, waits there for a moment to gather his thoughts, his feelings. To bottle all the right ones up before he spills all the small truths he can. He doesn't know if he could say it out loud unless Cas was here. After that, he paces outside the car, breathing in the cool night air. He fiddles with ring on his left hand, he'd bought it a few weeks ago. Something about it felt right and when shit got extra hard, it grounded him. Connected him to Cas in some strange perfect way. Sam never questioned it, though he did stare at it sometimes, wanting to ask. He'd actually bought a set and wears the other one around his throat tucked under his shirt, just for him. He finally walks down the dark beach and falls to his knees, searching for a sign of him in the stars and he prays.
Tonight, only one word escaped his mouth. "Please..." Broken, like he was, now, without Cas. Without his faith, without hope, he wished not for the first time in his life, that he couldn't feel a damn thing. This is too much.