And I wonder if truly you are
nearly as beautiful as I believe.
What’s the weight of the world worth to you?
“You.”
Dean said, but he really meant –
“Me.”
Those eyes, ice and fire and so fucking cold, they pushed him down and he said it because he was scared. He was scared of this thing, this tall frigid thing with an angel’s face but no wings in sight.
“Don’t make me lose you too.”
But this isn’t lost, this is found. This is power and victory and fearlessness. This is a god, a god, the skeleton of Castiel, strong and brittle and all hard, impenetrable bone. Dean can’t touch this, can’t even come close.
So what he really meant was –
“Me.”
Because when Dean loves, he loves with his blood. It’s dangerous and it’s consuming and he can’t ever get out. And he feels it now, feels this huge part of himself, locked away in Castiel. His blood and his memories and his life; they all belong to him now. To God.
Dean said, “Don’t make me lose you too.”
But really he meant –
“Don’t make me lose myself.”
(Source: goldminegoldmine)
Dean/Castiel
(asked by aplethora)
Your face looks sad now
For you know the time is nigh
When I must remove your wings
And you, you must try to fly
You don’t wanna be here in the future,
so you say, “the present’s just a pleasant
interruption to the past.”
Sometimes, Castiel sees Dean shiver.
Heat and humidity and cold alcohol in his hands, driving with hot leather behind his back. Dean shivers in the nonexistent chill like he just can’t help it.
Most times he bites his lip and stares straight ahead, resolute. Sometimes his eyes stray and meet Castiel’s and the angel thinks maybe he should do something. Stretch out his hand, warm Dean’s shoulder like he did once before.
But every time, he holds his hand back until the moment has passed, and leaves Dean in the cold.
This must be it. Why they yearn, why they hold their faith so high, so diligently strong; they look to God and expect him to take control. Grip their lives in his fists and squeeze, either to break or to mend – they can’t know which. That’s part of the thrill, Castiel supposes. Leaving your life in someone else’s hands.