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[heraldingangel]

TEXT || AUDIO || VIDEO || ACTION || PRAYER

Prayer: Cas can hear prayers from anywhere. Feel free to call on him anytime and he'll show up.

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[heraldingangel]

[ 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. ]

[perfectantidote]

[ 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. ]

Yeah. Yes. Please.

[heraldingangel]

[ 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. ]