[ Two. Alone and aching, pressed by a loss they can't fathom and don't know how to live with. Misery connects them and pain fills out the rest. A hollow feeling stirs inside him at the request but he nods nonetheless. Slow and deliberate, holding his eyes. He won't deny him. He can't. Not when he knows what's waiting for him between the hours of the night.
He's seen enough of his brothers suffer and die. Wings seared into the ground, and he could do nothing for them. Here, at least, he can help. He prayed to him, asked for his help, and having felt a part of his pain, endured it, it gives him something to hold onto. Whatever he's going through, it can't hold a candle to what he must be feeling. He hasn't lost nearly as much and already he's falling apart. Dean may not have left him something to smite, but he was still here. The last remnants of a life he'd barely skimmed the surface of. He needed this too, a reason to endure the days that still lay ahead of them. ]
It doesn't have to be for one night.
[ An offer laid out between them. He knows how long it takes for the dead to come back. The stretch of time between now and then seems almost unbearable to him, and if he feels this way then... he reaches for him, hand outstretched to grant him freedom from his pain. ]
[ It's tempting. The other easy way out. A sleep until Dean returns, except...
Cas thinks, briefly, of Skye's tears and the mentions of Eddie.
Thinks, even, of Castiel, and the horrible tremor of his grace in shambles. Cas' existence may have no point, he might be surplus and not needed, but it doesn't mean there's not work to be done. Who else will think to handle their pain in Dean's absence?
No one ever watches over them - over Cas or Castiel. So Cas cannot allow himself to be the subject of Castiel's guard, when Castiel has no one to return the favour. It's not fair - it never was, to either of them.
So he shakes his head minutely, reaches up and wraps his hand around Castiel's wrist. Cas' fingers are cold. They tremble. ]
Just one night. It's enough.
[ His grip flexes, briefly, and then he slides his hand into Castiel's, brings his other up to cup it. Holds Castiel's hand there, tender in his despair. ]
It's enough, I promise.
[ You're enough. You always were, but no one ever told you, and now look at me, please don't look at me. ]
[ Intention made clear, he reaches for him to send him to sleep but stops short when Castiel covers his wrist. He stills, uncertain, and stares back at him with a question in his eyes. Tilting his head a notch to the left, he takes in his words. ]
One night.
[ He promises, noting the temperature difference between them, and the way his fingers tremble against his skin. Was he cold? A question he never gets to ask when Castiel continues, pressing his hand between his. It's odd. Being so close to someone familiar yet so different. He nods at the statement, unsure what else to do. This isn't how angels interact with one another leaving him at a disadvantage. ]
I understand.
[ He doesn't. Not what he truly means. He doesn't hear it. How can he? He's not made of subtleties. Doesn't know how to read between then lines. He's a soldier. When he needs something communicated it's said simply without flourish. It's how he knows the world. ]
Would you like to go to sleep now?
[ He asks this time before proceeding, unsure where they stand. ]
[ Cas nearly laughs - not because of Castiel. But because it occurs to him that he's held someone's hand like this before. Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood.
It feels like a life time ago - a strange sensation to him, eons old and once so vast and incomprehensible, not limited by the laws of nature, time and space.
Cas lets go of Castiel's hand and looks down, tears still swimming in his eyes.
Dean is dead, and Cas feels hollow and broken in his loss. ]
[ He waits, silent and still, for the mourning figure to finally fold. Holds his own torrent in check, held down underwater, while he looks at his brother, tears swimming from the corner of his eyes. What must he be feeling? ]
Goodnight.
[ He says almost softly, as if afraid to add to his burden. Closing the distance he touches his forehead with two fingers to send him off to another world free of this aching feeling and settles down beside him, watching over him throughout the night, destroying any terrors before they have a chance to take flight.
Quietly, like a marble statue, the angel sits beside his charge, drowning in grief so great, it spills down his cheek in silent mourning. ]
no subject
He's seen enough of his brothers suffer and die. Wings seared into the ground, and he could do nothing for them. Here, at least, he can help. He prayed to him, asked for his help, and having felt a part of his pain, endured it, it gives him something to hold onto. Whatever he's going through, it can't hold a candle to what he must be feeling. He hasn't lost nearly as much and already he's falling apart. Dean may not have left him something to smite, but he was still here. The last remnants of a life he'd barely skimmed the surface of. He needed this too, a reason to endure the days that still lay ahead of them. ]
It doesn't have to be for one night.
[ An offer laid out between them. He knows how long it takes for the dead to come back. The stretch of time between now and then seems almost unbearable to him, and if he feels this way then... he reaches for him, hand outstretched to grant him freedom from his pain. ]
I'll watch over you.
no subject
Cas thinks, briefly, of Skye's tears and the mentions of Eddie.
Thinks, even, of Castiel, and the horrible tremor of his grace in shambles. Cas' existence may have no point, he might be surplus and not needed, but it doesn't mean there's not work to be done. Who else will think to handle their pain in Dean's absence?
No one ever watches over them - over Cas or Castiel. So Cas cannot allow himself to be the subject of Castiel's guard, when Castiel has no one to return the favour. It's not fair - it never was, to either of them.
So he shakes his head minutely, reaches up and wraps his hand around Castiel's wrist. Cas' fingers are cold. They tremble. ]
Just one night. It's enough.
[ His grip flexes, briefly, and then he slides his hand into Castiel's, brings his other up to cup it. Holds Castiel's hand there, tender in his despair. ]
It's enough, I promise.
[ You're enough. You always were, but no one ever told you, and now look at me, please don't look at me. ]
no subject
One night.
[ He promises, noting the temperature difference between them, and the way his fingers tremble against his skin. Was he cold? A question he never gets to ask when Castiel continues, pressing his hand between his. It's odd. Being so close to someone familiar yet so different. He nods at the statement, unsure what else to do. This isn't how angels interact with one another leaving him at a disadvantage. ]
I understand.
[ He doesn't. Not what he truly means. He doesn't hear it. How can he? He's not made of subtleties. Doesn't know how to read between then lines. He's a soldier. When he needs something communicated it's said simply without flourish. It's how he knows the world. ]
Would you like to go to sleep now?
[ He asks this time before proceeding, unsure where they stand. ]
no subject
It feels like a life time ago - a strange sensation to him, eons old and once so vast and incomprehensible, not limited by the laws of nature, time and space.
Cas lets go of Castiel's hand and looks down, tears still swimming in his eyes.
Dean is dead, and Cas feels hollow and broken in his loss. ]
Yeah. Yes. Please.
no subject
Goodnight.
[ He says almost softly, as if afraid to add to his burden. Closing the distance he touches his forehead with two fingers to send him off to another world free of this aching feeling and settles down beside him, watching over him throughout the night, destroying any terrors before they have a chance to take flight.
Quietly, like a marble statue, the angel sits beside his charge, drowning in grief so great, it spills down his cheek in silent mourning. ]