Dean/Cas fic: there's a light in your eye that keeps shining
episode tag: 1.4k, spoilers for the spn finale
Cas only sees Dean’s humanity.
[AO3]
—
"Come back to the bunker," Sam says, his voice rough, pulled thin by the poor phone reception, all static and noise. "You need to come back."
Cas pauses, swallowing around the knot twisting in his throat. “There’s nothing I can do.”
"Just come back." Sam heaves out a sigh, then sucks in a breath that rattles in Cas’ ear like the wind. "Cas, I — please."
Muncie to Lebanon is a long drive, and years of traveling with the Winchesters have him taking back roads and desolate county highways out of habit, but he makes what he thinks Dean would consider “good time.” He passes through central Illinois and northern Missouri, skirting the Nebraska line when he pushes into Kansas. It’s a part of the country most humans find boring — flat expanses that stretch endlessly toward the horizon, yellow grasses that burn gold in full sunlight, wave in the winds that come at dusk — but Cas watches as it rolls by, another of his Father’s enumerable creations. By St. Joseph a hollow ache is spreading through his chest, digging deeper with every mile; Sam is praying now, a low mumble of profanity mixed with Cas’ name, unwilling to believe that his faith might actually exceed Cas’ reach.
Angels are the essence of light and intent, were gifted by their Father with the strength to raise the dead, but Cas weakened himself when he healed Gadreel, and again when he braced his body against the sudden flare of Gadreel’s sacrifice. His grace is less than a spark, a sickly itch at the center of him, a place that grows harder and harder to reach, nothing like the brilliant, white-hot power than had poured through him when he raised Dean from perdition, when he remade Dean’s body from rot and bones.
It is well past midnight when he finally arrives, and the bunker is quiet and dark. Cas finds Sam waiting in the library, his elbow resting on the tale and a bottle of whiskey tilting out of his hand. He looks tired, white around the mouth; his soul is dim with sorrow, with the shadowy weight that comes with grief, but the set of his shoulders suggest he is anxious, perhaps uncertain. Of the brothers, Sam carries his emotions closer to the surface, but Dean has always been easier for Cas to read.
"I’m sorry," he says, his voice loud in the bunker’s silence, the words brittle and not enough.
Sam shakes his head, setting the bottle down to rub his hand over his face. “It’s not what you think. He isn’t” — he shakes his head again, clears his throat once, twice — “he’s alive.”
Relief washes over Cas like a wave, easing the harrowing sense of loss that’s threatened to choke him since Metatron first taunted him with Dean’s death. “How?”
"Crowley — "
"Crowley? What did he do?"
"I don’t know. He’s gone now, and Dean — he won’t talk to me. He won’t even let me come near him."
Cas heads for Dean’s bedroom. He smells the sulfur just as he opens the door; Dean is sitting on the foot of his bed, his shoulders hunched and his elbows on his knees, and when he looks up at Cas his eyes burn black.
"Dean."
"Cas." Dean straightens a little, enough to skirt the corner of his bed and back away, one hand clenched into a tight fist, the other shaking as it trails along the mattress. He has a deep cut across his cheek, blood staining the side of his jaw. "What are you doing here?"
Looking at him is strange. A demon always has two faces, one just behind the other, the twisted soul using its vessel’s features like a mask, but the shadow hiding beyond Dean’s face is his own.
"Did Sam call you?"
"Yes."
"Damn it."
Cas shuts the door and moves closer to the bed. His palms are sweating, another sign of his dwindling grace. “He said you won’t speak to him.”
"No. Not when I’m" — his eyes burn black again, and his lip twitches, ready to curl with rage — "I don’t want him to see me like this." He shifts, the mattress creaking under him, and eyes Cas askance. "You, either."
"Why not?"
"C’mon, Cas. Do you even need to ask? Look at me."
Cas looks, knowing full well what Dean wants, what Dean expects, but he only sees Dean’s humanity — the crooked set of his shirt collar, the freckles across the bridge of his nose, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the soft swell of his mouth, a mouth Cas has thought of kissing recently. He has been in love with Dean for years, has even been aware of it on some level, but it took losing his grace and living as a human to fully understand it, the constant pull beneath his ribs, as relentless as a second heartbeat, how it aches when Dean is away from him, warms when Dean claps him on the shoulder, squeezes his arm. Dean’s soul has begun to darken, choked by the bloody rage that fuels the Mark’s curse, but he is not lost, bears no resemblance to the furious, snarling, hell-ravaged creature Cas once tucked inside his wings.
Dean shifts again, a frustrated noise humming in his throat. “How much juice have you got left?”
"A little?"
"Enough smite me?"
"No." Cas sits on the edge of the bed, in spite of the way Dean inches away. He probably could do it, if he called upon every scrap of grace still inside him, but it would burn him out completely, and he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to lose Dean.
"Ruby’s knife is in the trunk of my car," Dean says quietly. "I can’t ask Sam, he’s too stubborn. But you — "
"No."
"Damn it, Cas. I’m not human anymore." Dean sighs under his breath, all anger and dust. "If I was anyone else, you’d — "
"I don’t love anyone else."
Dean looks away, silent, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and after a moment, Cas moves closer; he know Dean loves him as well, even if he is unable to say it. He wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders, drawing him in, letting his hand rest at the back of Dean’s neck, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair the way he’s always wanted. Dean starts to jerk back, every line in his body pulling taut, ready to snap, but Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead before Dean can push him away, strokes his thumb over the skin behind Dean’s ear.
"Cas," Dean says, his voice thick. He tips his head up a little, his lips moving against Cas’ jaw. "You can’t — you don’t want any part of me."
Cas kisses him. It feels surprisingly easy, like something he should’ve done months ago, perhaps years, but it is also frightening, overwhelming him with an unexpected flurry of human responses — the tightness in his chest, the warmth spreading across his cheeks, the dark heat pooling low in his gut, everything sharp with only a minimum amount of grace as a buffer. He brings his other hand up to cradle Dean’s jaw, letting his thumb trace the curve of Dean’s cheek; Dean makes a slow, pleased sound against Cas’ mouth, but it quickly burns into a growl. He kisses Cas harder, turning it filthy and wet, all tongue and teeth, fisting his hand in the front of Cas’ shirt, twisting until the buttons pop.
"Dean." He catches Dean’s hand, rubs his thumb over the inside of Dean’s wrist. "Dean.”
Dean pulls away, taking a sharp breath as his eyes return to green. He reaches for Cas’ face with a shaky hand, runs his fingers over the split in Cas’ lip. It’s a tiny cut, and already starting to heal, but Cas can taste blood in the back mouth.
"I told you, you don’t want any part of me. I’m not — I can’t control it."
Cas shakes his head. He draws Dean in again, lets Dean hide his face against the side of his throat. “Of course I do.”
"I could hurt you. I could" — Dean makes a low, frustrated noise that hums against Cas’ skin — "It feels like it did before. You know, when I was downstairs. After I — after I, um."
"It’s not the same. Your soul is not nearly as black."
"But it will be. Just a matter of time."
Cas slides his hand up Dean’s arm, stopping just shy of the scar on Dean’s arm. “Not if we separate your soul from Cain’s curse.”
"Is that even possible?"
"I’ll find a way," Cas says, kissing Dean again. He raised Dean from perdition once, and he’ll do it again if he must, even if it kills him. "I’ll find it."

这篇也是tumblr，作者dumplingdean，无授权。
#9.23#
Dean Winchester死了。
他能感受到他偷来的荣光愤怒地悲鸣着，充斥着他的胸膛，震撼着他的骨骼。它们同样仍在不断地腐败，他能感受到。这种缓慢的衰败，这种死亡的阴影笼罩着他，步步逼近。
他把Metatron锁进牢笼，转身走进豪华的办公室里，听着自己的鞋子轻踏在冰冷的地面上时发出的声响。
Dean Winchester死了。
踏。踏。踏。
他的心脏沉重地鼓动着，让他感到疼痛。他在木门前站定，痛苦地闭上眼。全身都叫嚣着痛。每一次呼吸都那么痛苦。他握紧拳头推开门，走进去。
他看到Metatron的刀落在地上，沾满鲜血。他关上门，向后靠在门上，缓缓滑下身子，把自己埋进膝盖间，再也无法忍耐心中暴风雨一样激荡着的情感，他的愤怒，他的泪水。
Dean Winchester死了。
Dean Winchester的血在Metatron的刀上干涸。
他哭到筋疲力尽，声嘶力竭，哭到他的嘴唇肿起眼睛通红哭到他不能呼吸。Metatron说对了。他做的一切都只是为了拯救一个人，拯救Dean Winchester。曾经他不知道这意味着什么，那时他不能；而如今他知道了，也知道自己永远没有机会告诉Dean自己有多爱他，告诉他自己愿意再一次为他做尽一切来拯救他，好吧，这伤透了他，令他支离破碎。如果他以为他之前已经很卑微，那么他错了。
他离开天堂回到地球。他不确定自己在寻找什么，也许看着Dean的尸体火化会让他好受点，但这是在当Sam没有已经烧掉了他的尸体的情况下。这些想法当他难受无比，每当想到Dean的骨肉消熔在火焰中，他就感觉仿佛火舌舔舐的是他的皮肤。
他停在一个操场，坐在长椅上，把头埋进手中，就这么坐了一个小时。
最终，他发现自己站在一个仓库的铁门前，艰难地吞咽喉中的硬结。他做不到。他无法面对Sam。他本应该保护Dean周全，他本应该从Metatron手里保护好他。可是他没有。
Dean Winchester死了。
他给Sam打了电话，然后等在原地。
Dean Winchester死了。
他听到门被打开的声音，他的呼吸开始变得艰难，仿佛被扼住喉咙。
Dean Winchester死了。
门摇晃着打开。另一边站着Dean。但那不是Dean。
Cas握了握拳，跌跌撞撞地走过去。“Dean。”他说。他看着Dean的脸，血迹斑驳伤痕累累。他的嘴肿着，脸上带着一种熟悉的痛苦神情。他的绿眼睛里布满血丝，但它们是那么空洞。
那些总是从Dean的灵魂中透出来的温和金黄的光芒变得晦暗不清。当他看向Dean的脸，他看到了他真正的长相，它属于一个恶魔。
“Dean，发生什么了？”他问，无法掩饰自己脸上觉得不可思议的表情。
Dean轻声地苦笑然后他的眼睛变成了全黑的。这影像像它来时一样快地消失了，Dean摇了摇头，“我不知道，”他耸着肩说到。
“那个印记……它转变了你……”他说，他的声音渐渐低落。
“也许是吧，”Dean说。
他咬紧牙关，而他看上去那么遥远。
Cas不知道还有什么比这更糟，是Dean是个恶魔的事实，还是突如其来又像吗啡一样在他的脉搏里横冲直撞的安心感，即使Dean不再是个人类，他仍然活着。他不假思索地向他走去，紧紧拥抱他的双肩，将他拉进这个拥抱之中。他能感受到Dean在他怀中的僵硬，但很快他就放松下来回抱了Cas。他能感受到所有多余的强度，新的力量，涌动在Dean的皮肤之下，令他恐惧。Dean的身体很热，颤抖着，紧绷着，像火线一样一触即发。
当他们各自退开，Dean的眼睛又一次变成黑色，他试图抑制但无济于事。他愧疚地转开视线。
Cas曲起手指挑起Dean的下巴抬起他的头。“别在我面前隐瞒。我了解你，Dean Winchester，你很好。”
Dean瘪了瘪嘴角露出一丝冷酷，摇头说，“我不是人类……现在我是个恶魔了，Cas。我知道我是什么。”他凶狠地说。
Cas摇了摇头，向他靠近了一步。“我不认为你知道。”他低声说。他吻了他，犹疑又纯洁地，但Dean加深了它，仿佛多么饥渴地想要得到一个吻，仿佛多么饥渴地想要亲吻他的双唇，它们用舌尖的力度相交，纠缠。
当他们终于分开这个吻，Cas再次用双臂拥抱了他，尽自己所能地去维持这个拥抱。
Dean Winchester死了。
不。他想。他闭上眼。
他细嗅着Dean的气息，当他闻到硫磺的味道时，他皱了皱眉。他仍然能够看见它，他仍然能够感觉得到它，那么苍白虚弱，但它仍在那里，仍然纯粹地残留在Dean的灵魂中，像许多细小的碎片和残像不愿离开。它们仍然在那里，仍然在燃烧，仍然在抗争。那些微小零星的人性残片，拒绝死亡。他又向他靠近了一步，把头靠在他的胸前。
“你还是你，Dean。”Cas对他耳语。
Dean抬起眼看着他，黑色的眼，担心地皱着眉。“我是吗？”他问。
Cas对他微笑着点头。他希望这能让他看起来更可信一些。他不确定接下来的日子会发生什么，但他能够确定一件事，无论怎样的狂风暴雨到来，他都会陪在Dean Winchester身边。
他感受到Dean的灵魂碎片在他的手掌下轻颤。他笑了。
Dean Winchester还活着。

Dean Winchester is dead.
Inside his chest, he can feel his stolen grace rattling around angrily, bouncing against his bones. It continues to rot, he can feel that too. The slow decay, the inevitable shadow of death looming in the distance.
He puts Metatron in a cage, locks him away, and he walks back toward the plush office, listening to his shoes as they click softly on the cool concrete below them.
Dean Winchester is dead.
Click. Click. Click.
His heart is pounding and it hurts. He stops in front of the wooden doors and scrunches his eyes shut. Everything hurts. Even breathing hurts. He curls his hand into a fist and pushes the door open, stepping inside.
On the ground, he sees it, Metatron’s blade. It’s covered in blood and as he closes the door behind him, he sinks to his knees, unable to hold back the storm, the fury, the tears.
Dean Winchester is dead.
Dean Winchester’s blood is drying on Metatron’s blade.
He cries until he is hoarse, until he looses his voice, until his lips are swollen and his eyes are red and he can’t breathe. Metatron had been right. He had done it all to save one man, to save Dean Winchester. There had been a time when he didn’t understand what it meant, when he couldn’t, but he did now, and knowing that he would never get a chance to tell Dean how much he loved him, how he would do it all again just to save him, well, it breaks him. If he thought he had been low before, he was wrong.
He leaves heaven and goes back down to earth. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, perhaps seeing Dean’s body burn on a pyre would do him some good, that is, if Sam hasn’t burned the body already. The thought of it makes him sick, the idea of Dean’s flesh and bones snapping while flames lick at his skin.
He pauses at a playground and sits on a bench for an hour, his head in his hands.
Eventually, he finds himself at the bunker, standing in front of the metal doors, swallowing thickly against the knot forming in his throat. He can’t do it. He can’t face Sam. He was supposed to keep Dean safe, he was supposed to protect him from Metatron and he had failed.
Dean Winchester is dead.
He calls Sam and he waits.
Dean Winchester is dead.
He hears the sound of the door being unlocked and his breath hitches in his throat.
Dean Winchester is dead.
The door swings open and standing on the other side is Dean. But it’s not quite Dean.
Cas gasps and stumbles back. “Dean,” he says. He looks at Dean’s face, bloody and bruised, lips swollen and a familiar grimace. His eyes are green and bloodshot, but there’s something else.
The soft, golden glow that has always radiated from Dean’s core has dimmed. When he looks at Dean’s face, he sees his true face, that of a demon.
“Dean, what happened?” he asks, unable to hide the look of disbelief on his own face.
Dean chuckles bitterly and his eyes turn black. The film disappears as quickly as it had come and Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“The mark…it…transformed you…” he says, his voice trailing off.
“Something like that,” Dean says. His jaw clenches and he looks away.
Cas doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that Dean is a demon, or the relief pumping through his veins like morphine that even though Dean is no longer human, technically, he’s still alive. Without thinking, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He can feel Dean stiffen in his arms, but soon, it melts away and his body sags against Cas’. He can feel all of the extra strength, the new power, humming beneath Dean’s skin and it scares him. Dean’s body is hot, thrumming, strung out and tight like a live wire.
When they pull back, Dean’s eyes are black once more and he tries to will them away but it doesn’t work. He looks away, ashamed.
Cas hooks his finger beneath Dean’s chin and lifts his head. “Don’t hide from me. I know you, Dean Winchester, you’re a good man.”
Dean’s mouth curls into something cruel and he shakes his head. “I’m not a man…I’m a demon now, Cas. I know what I am,” he spits.
Cas shakes his head and leans in close to him. “I don’t think you do,” he whispers. He kisses him, it’s unsure and chaste, but Dean leans into it, hungry for it, hungry for the heat of his mouth and the press of his tongue against his own.
When they pull apart, Cas wraps his arms around him once more and holds onto him while he can.
Dean Winchester is dead.
No, he thinks, as he closes his eyes. He inhales Dean’s scent and wrinkles his nose when he smells sulfur. He can still see it, he can still feel it, it’s faint, but it’s there, remnants of the purity of Dean’s soul, little bits and pieces that have refused to let go. They’re still in there, they’re still burning, still fighting. Little scraps of humanity, refusing to die. He pulls back and presses his hand against Dean’s chest.
“You’re still you, Dean,” Cas whispers.
Dean looks up at him, eyes black, brows creased in worry. “Am I?” he asks.
Cas smiles at him and nods. He hopes it looks convincing. He’s not sure what will happen in the coming days, but he knows one thing for sure, he will be at Dean Winchester’s side to weather the storm.
He feels the shattered fragments of Dean’s soul vibrate against the palm of his hand and he smiles.
Dean Winchester is alive.

这篇和前一篇是一个po主，dumplingdean，无授权。
他们第一次做/爱的时候，Dean反而是那个哭了的人。
他靠在Cas身上，把自己的头埋在他的肩窝里，滚烫的泪水从他的脸上流下，落到Cas身上。
Cas什么也没说，只是伸出手臂把他们轻轻搭上Dean的背。他紧紧拥抱着猎人的身体，感受着每一声破碎的抽泣轻颤触碰着他的的身体。Cas张了张嘴，但他意识到没有任何安慰的语言可以抚慰Dean的灵魂。于是他开始在Dean的肩上落下一个个轻柔的吻，轻声将祈祷印上他的皮肤。
Dean，在Cas的怀里，那么久以来第一次，看上去如此单薄脆弱。Cas继续亲吻着猎人，听着低泣和抽噎渐渐平息。
“Dean？”他轻声问到。
Dean把自己埋在他的怀中没有回答。黑夜将他们像茧一样包裹起来，从四面八方蚕食着他们的肌肤。
“Dean，你还好吗？”Cas问。
“我很好。”他在Cas肩头咕哝着说到。
Cas抬起一只手轻柔地将手指埋进Dean的头发里，轻轻地摩擦着他的头皮，听着Dean从喉咙深处发出满足的呼噜声。
“你想谈谈它吗？”Cas问。
Dean摇了摇头，把头更紧密地贴近Cas的脖子，“你能……就这样抱着我一会儿吗？”Dean用微弱的声音询问。
Cas微笑着点头，“我能做到。”他低语。
猎人再次在恋人怀中找到舒适的位置，Cas闭上眼。他再次吻了Dean的肩膀，轻声笑了。
是的，他当然能做到。

The first time they make love, Dean is the one who cries.
He collapses on top of Cas and presses his head in the crook of Cas’ shoulder, while hot tears form in his eyes and spill down his cheeks, falling on Cas’ skin.
Cas doesn’t say anything, rather he reaches out with his arms and wraps them around Dean’s middle. He squeezes down on the hunter’s torso, feeling every wrecked sob that travels through his body. He opens his mouth to say something, but realizes that there is nothing that he could possibly say to make this better. Instead, he chooses to press soft kisses against Dean’s shoulder, whispering prayers into his skin.
Dean, for the first time in a long time, seems so small and fragile within Cas’ arms. Cas continues to press kisses into the hunter’s skin, listening to the sobs and the sniffles as they slowly but surely wind down.
“Dean?” he whispers.
Dean stirs in his arms but does not respond. Around them, the darkness cocoons them and sinks down into their skin.
“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks.
“M’fine,” he mumbles into Cas’ shoulder.
Cas moves one hand up to Dean’s head where he gently cards his fingers through the man’s hair. He lightly scratches at Dean’s scalp and smiles when Dean hums contentedly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asks.
Dean shakes his head and burrows deeper into Cas’ neck. “Can you just…hold me for a while?” Dean asks in a small voice.
Cas smiles and nods. “I can do that,” he whispers.
The hunter settles against him, and Cas closes his eyes. He kisses Dean’s shoulder again and smiles. Yes, he can definitely do that.

同样是作者dumplingdean，无授权。。。这个作者的文萌萌的读起来特别舒服QwQ。
#9.22（dean）#
“Cas，你刚刚为一个家伙放弃了整支军队。”
很好，这根本不是他本想说的。他本想说的是：Cas，你刚刚放弃了一整支军队--为我。但他没有。他的嘴笨拙地把这句话吞掉了，最终说出“一个家伙”来取代。因为终究这指的就是他--一个家伙，一坨来自堪萨斯州劳伦斯市狗屎，一个很可能无法活过四十岁的混蛋--因为他太他妈的忙了，他在无数个日日夜夜里忙着奔波于拯救世界。
他是Dean Winchester。他不配。他不配得到这么高尚的爱情，他不配拥有浪漫又平静的生活。他尝试过争取但一无所获，所以没理由Cas会有所不同。他想起他曾经的那些爱情，那些曾经与他那么亲密的人们，Cassie, Lisa, Ben。他想起他们，以及他对他们造成的不可避免的伤害。他不配拥有他们的爱，从不，正如他确信地狱不配拥有Cas的爱一样。
并不是他不想拥有这些。天知道他多么渴望。他只是认为他不配。Cas的爱那么广博，当他想到去包容这样的爱甚至让他觉得受伤。每当想到Cas爱他，他就能在他的心中感受到无尽广博又深远的天空，蓝得那么通透彻底，一片云都没有。然而，Castiel的爱也总是包裹着他，缠绕在他周身挥散不去。
他不配拥有爱，不配有一个美好结局。他都知道。他接受这一切，继续前行。
“不行，你不能把这些人赶走。”他说。
Cas盯着他，深深看进他的眼里，这一刻，他觉得一切都这么美好。他允许自己沉浸其中，感受着渴望在他的身体里叫嚣。Cas能搞定一切，他总是能搞定一切。他想告诉Cas这个，他想告诉他自己爱他正如他爱自己，但这些话却卡在了喉咙里。
Cas的嘴唇轻颤，他点了点头问，“你真的相信我们三个人就足够了吗？”
“我们一直如此。”Dean回答。
Cas沉默地垂下眼帘。他绞合十指把手放在桌上，静静盯着它们，轻声问，“Dean？”
当Dean看着Castiel的时候他正好抬起头看着他，他的名字停留在天使的唇瓣上，被如此轻柔地吐露，就像他们之间的秘密，只是他们俩之间的秘密，再没有别人。“怎么了，Cas？”他微笑着回应。
犹豫不决地，Cas把手伸过桌子来握住Dean的手。
Dean什么也没说，相反，他只是看着。他们的手指纠缠在一起，Dean第一次感觉他能够自由地呼吸。
“我很想你。”Cas轻声说，一个小小的笑容绽放在他脸上。Dean的笑容回来了，他点着头说，“我也很想你，兄弟。”这一刻他很冷静。他很难从Cain的印记之中保持冷静。这感觉就像掸去石板上的灰，更像是……将一块脏玻璃擦干净，再用窗用吸尘器把它喷洗，确保所有的斑点都随之而去。
他感觉到一股浓浓的暖意从胃部扩散开来，轻轻皱了皱眉。他不确定这是什么，但当他望向Cas，他发现他不在意。
他听到有人靠近，他想是Sam，但他仍然望着Cas。再来点儿心跳的感觉，他想。这就是他需要的全部。
只要再来点儿心跳。

“Cas you just gave up an entire army for one guy.”
Except. That’s not what he had wanted to say. What he had wanted to say was, Cas, you just gave up an entire army for me, but instead, his mouth fumbles over the words, and he says one guy, instead, because that’s all he is in the end, one guy, a piece of shit from Lawrence, Kansas who would probably die before he saw his fortieth year because he was too damned busy saving the world for the umpteenth time.
He’s Dean Winchester. He doesn’t get this. He doesn’t get grand gestures of love, he doesn’t get romance, an apple pie life. He’s tried it and it didn’t work so what would make Cas any different? He thinks of his past loves, the ones that had been close to him, Cassie, Lisa, Ben. He thinks about them and the inevitable pain he has caused them. He didn’t deserve their love, he never did, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve Cas’ love.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. God knows he wants it. It’s just that he doesn’t think he deserves it. Cas’ love is so wide and all encompassing it almost hurts when he thinks about it. When he thinks about Cas loving him, all he can see in his mind is miles and miles of open, wide sky, bluer than blue, and not a cloud in sight. And still, Castiel’s love follows him around, wraps itself around his ankles and refuses to let go.
He doesn’t get love, he doesn’t get a happy ending, he knows this, he’s accepted it and he’s moved on.
“No, there’s no way you blew those people away,” he says.
Cas stares at him, into his eyes, and for a moment, everything is okay. He allows himself to sink into the seat and the itching beneath his skin pauses. Cas makes it all okay, he always does. He wants to tell Cas this, wants to let him know that he loves him as much as he does but…the words are stuck in his throat.
Cas’ lip quivers and he nods. “You really believe we three will be enough?” he asks.
“We always have been,” Dean replies.
Cas falls silent and lowers his gaze. He threads his fingers together and presses them against the tabletop, studying them closely. “Dean?” he says softly.
Dean watches as Castiel tilts his head forward, his name is on the angel’s lips and it is spoken softly, like a secret being passed between them, just the two of them and no one else. “Yeah, Cas?” he asks with a small smile.
Hesitantly, Cas reaches across the table for Dean’s hand.
Dean doesn’t say anything, rather, he simply watches. Their fingers thread themselves together and for the first time, Dean is able to breathe easy.
“I’ve missed you,” Cas says quietly, a small smile brimming on his face.
Dean smiles back and nods. “Missed you too, buddy,” he says. For a moment, he is calm. It’s different from the mark of Cain, calm. That feeling is almost like wiping a slate clean, this was more like…wiping a streaky window clean, spraying it down with windex and then ensuring that all the spots were gone. He feels a strange warmth radiating from the middle of his stomach and he frowns. He isn’t sure what it it but as he stares at Cas he finds that he didn’t care.
He can hear someone approaching, Sam, he thinks, but he continues to stare at Cas, just a few more heartbeats, he thinks. That’s all he needs.
Just a few more heartbeats.

tumblr，作者crossroadscastiel，无授权。。
让他最终将那句话脱口而出的理由是他最近所知最令他哑口无言的事了。他们仍然围坐在餐桌边，吃着早餐，而Cas的脸上还沾着番茄酱。他似乎没发现，或者他发现了却毫不在意。他正忙着一边往嘴里塞满食物一边读着早报。他的确是Dean所见过最奇怪的家伙了。他往培根上加番茄酱，在咖啡里放一大堆奶油。但他仍坐在这儿，忘我地读着早报，认真读着每一页报纸上的每一句话--他甚至读那些广告，有时候会大声读出来--当这一切发生时他的脸上还沾着番茄酱，而Dean突然觉得自己的心要跳出胸口。“我爱你。”这几个字那么快的被说出口Dean甚至不确定自己说了它们。当Cas甚至没从报纸里抬起头，Dean很确定他没有说出口。然而Cas只是简单地说道，“我知道”，然后拿起杯子喝了一小口咖啡，就好像Dean从未对他说过这句话一样，这句他从没对任何人说过的话，除了他的母亲。“你…你知道？”Dean目瞪口呆。他说他知道是什么意思？“是的。”他又喝了一口咖啡，目光仍然粘在报纸上。“你…怎么知道的？”此时，Dean很确定他需要使用他一切的意志力来阻止自己不要因为羞愧而钻到桌子底下。“Dean，我曾经是一个天使。我总能够了解你的想法。你知道的。”他终于放下他的马克杯，从报纸里抬起头，强忍着嘴角的一个小小微笑看着Dean。“你知道我说的不是我对Sam的那种爱？我是说--”“我知道。”Cas打断了他，用那种他从未失去过的属于天使的热切目光看着他，即使当他被偷走的荣光最终消失也不曾失去的天使的目光。“你能不提这个吗？”Dean有些窘迫地摇了摇头。这绝对和他计划的不一样。好吧，虽然他根本什么计划都没有。他从没想过说出这些话对他来说会这么难。他很确定这让他窘迫死了。“Dean，我很早之前就知道了，好吧，我知道了有很长一段时间。我只是…在想你什么时候会准备好然后告诉我。”“所以…？”他。窘。死。了。Dean Winchester刚刚告诉了Castiel他爱他--他为他陷入爱情--如果他的回答除了“我知道”之外再没别的，Dean一定无法活到明天。“所以…我也爱你，”微弱的笑容渐渐在他脸上绽开，Cas最终笑着说出这句话。“这样行了吗？”Dean没有回答。他发现他确实无法回答。他只是坐在那里，盯着Cas脸上沾上的番茄酱。他想把它们擦掉，但他阻止了自己，在那一瞬间他意识到，这个男人身上可笑的邋遢正是自己所希望他是的。他不想要一个不会在脸上沾上番茄酱的Cas，不想他总是能梳理好自己的头发，也不希望他不会悄悄偷走自己最喜欢的短袖却将它又脏又臭地扔还在花园里。他想要一个完整的Cas。他喜欢的是这个奇怪的，呆呆的，个子小小的男人，超过任何他曾经在生命中渴望过的事物。所以他没有擦去他脸上的番茄酱。与此相对他站了起来，走到餐桌的另一边。他紧挨着坐在他身边，Cas恰好转过身来，他们相距几英寸。谁都没有说话，而是相对望进对方眼里，久到Dean几乎忘记了他本想要做什么。终于，Dean回过神，感到时间再次流淌起来，他用手捧起Cas的脸。他的拇指正好碰到他脸上沾着的番茄酱，当他倾身去吻他，他意识到他早就想这么做了。这一刻一点也不像那些劣质的狗屁电影里说的那么完美诱人，它如此狼狈，就像你的脸上沾着番茄酱，而它们又蹭了许多到你的浴袍上一样。Cas尝起来就像加了太多奶油的咖啡，虽然Dean平常不喜欢这种味道，但那是Cas，一切感受起来都这么理所当然，于是他滑进他的嘴里，舌尖渴望着探寻更多。

The reason he finally ends up blurting it out is the dumbest thing really. They’re still sitting at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast, and Cas has ketchup smeared on his cheek. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does he certainly doesn’t care. He’s too busy stuffing his face and reading the morning paper. He really is the weirdest guy Dean has ever met. He puts ketchup on his bacon and he puts way too much cream in his coffee. But he’s sitting there, lost in reading the morning paper, devouring every sentence of every page — he even reads the advertisements, sometimes aloud — with this giant smear of ketchup on his cheek and Dean suddenly feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest when it happens.“I love you.” The words come out so fast he can’t even be certain he actually said them. When Cas doesn’t even bother looking up from his paper, he’s pretty sure the words never made it past his lips.But then Cas just simply says, “I know,” before taking another sip of his coffee like Dean didn’t just say three words to him he’s never said to anyone in that order, aside from his mother or the memory of her in Heaven.“You…you know?” Dean is dumbfounded. What does he mean he knows?“Yes.” He takes another sip of his coffee, eyes still fixed on the paper.“How do you….know?” At this point, Dean’s pretty certain it’s taking all of his willpower to not crawl under the table in shame.“Dean, I used to be an angel. I have always been able to read you. I know.” Finally he sits his coffee mug down, looking up from the paper as a small smile starts tugging at the corners of his mouth.“You know I don’t mean like…the way I love Sam? It’s—”“I know,” Cas cuts him off, now staring at him with all that angelic intensity that never left him, even when the last of his stolen grace fizzled out.“Will you stop saying that?” Dean hangs his head in shame. This isn’t exactly going how he planned it. Well, he hadn’t planned this at all. He never thought he would work up the nerve to say those words. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die.“Dean, I’ve known for a long time, okay. A long time. I just…figured you would tell me when you were ready to.”“And…?” He. Wants. To. Die. Dean Winchester just told Castiel that he loves him — that he is in love with him — and he’s not going to survive to see another day if he doesn’t say something else other than “I know”.“And…I love you too,” he says, the faint smile growing bigger as he does. “Is that okay?”Dean doesn’t answer. He finds that he actually can’t. He just sits there staring at the ketchup smeared on Cas’ cheek. He wants to brush it away but he stops himself, in that moment realizing that this ridiculous mess of a man is exactly who he wants him to be. He doesn’t want a Cas that doesn’t leave ketchup smeared on his cheek, or one who always brushes his hair, or one who doesn’t steal his favorite t-shirts only to return them unwashed and smelling of the garden out back.He wants every single part of him. He wants this weird, dorky little guy more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. So he doesn’t wipe the ketchup from his cheek. Instead he stands and walks to the other side of the table. He sits down next to him, as Cas turns his body so they are mere inches apart. They don’t speak, instead choosing to stare at each other for so long Dean almost forgets what he intended to do when he got up in the first place. Finally, coming back to himself, coming back to the moment, he cups Cas’ face in his hands. His thumb lands right in the ketchup on his cheek, and as he leans in to kiss him, he realizes it was always meant to be this way. This moment wasn’t meant to be perfect or seductive or any of that cheesy bullshit that you see in the movies. It was always meant to be a mess, a ketchup stain on your cheek, a plethora of stains on your bathrobe. Cas tastes like coffee with too much cream, and normally Dean would hate that but it’s Cas, and it feels so right that he moans into his mouth, seeking more of it with his tongue.

tumblr，bitchjerkassbuttidgit，无授权。
#他转着手中的铅笔，然后小心地放下它，犹豫了一刻，最终在信纸的顶上写下两个字：Dear Cas。#
（划掉）Dear Castiel,（划掉）
（划掉）Dear Cas,（划掉）
Cas,
我真的不是个擅长写信的人。该死，我怀疑这封信永远也不会有见天日的一天，但我感觉如果我不把这些写下来，我会憋到炸的。
我爱上你了。
我如此愚不可及又无可救药地爱上你了，这让我感到无上快乐也无尽惶恐。
我喜欢你的眼睛。我喜欢你微笑时微微眨眼的样子。我喜欢你愚蠢地斜视或者歪头的样子。我喜欢你的嘴唇。我不认为你会知道我有多少次离你这么近几乎要吻上你，但我从没有顺从过自己的内心。
我爱你愚蠢的风衣和领带。我爱你的声音。我爱你叫我名字的方式。我爱你试图用你的嘴阐明某些句子时有点焦躁的样子，或是当你看到电视中你觉得有趣的事发生时的俏皮微笑。 对我来说，现在列出我不喜欢你的那些单子反而更加容易。
我不认为这对你是公平的。绝不。这对你不公平，对我不公平，也对Sammy不公平。有时候我觉得这是个好主意。就好像，总有什么会卷土重来，或者你又将与我所不知道的什么战斗。这也许太复杂了。但我知道，我想在我的余生中与你相伴。我早就知道了，我想。
我希望你会是每天早上我睁眼醒来看到的第一件事，也会是每天晚上我闭眼入睡前看到的最后一件事。我想拥有一座房子，想与你一同整理我们的花园，在你照料那些花朵的时候我可以清理草坪。我们可以一起在凌晨三点去差劲的食客店吃着派配奶昔。我想有能够陪你在长沙发上看星球大战传奇的一整个周末。我想在Impala的引擎盖上和你一起野餐，随意游荡在中部宽广的平原上，轻碰酒杯畅饮啤酒，仰起头就能看到漫天繁星。我想在我们的庭院里烧烤，听着你、Sammy、Sammy的妻子和孩子，你们围着餐桌交谈欢笑。
该死，也许我们也能有孩子。我不知道这能否实现，但你会是一个好爸爸。
我只想要你，Cas。我用我在这世界上一切的感知来渴求你。我不知道你是否也有同样的感觉。我喜欢认为你是的。 我喜欢这样认为，即使当你的确能不能再一次打开这些用珍珠装饰的天堂大门，你仍然将会，留在人间，留在我身边。
这也许要求得太多了。我不知道。然而即使如此，我仍然会这样请求你。当所有的这一切都结束，当Abaddon死去，我会把这封信拿出来放在桌上，希望你将会仍然拥有我，不论是否受到诅咒。
我爱你，Cas。
（划掉）-Dean Winchester（划掉）
- Dean
#Destiel# #DeanWinchester# #Castiel# #supernatural#

Dear Castiel,
Dear Cas,
Cas,
I’m not really one for doing this sort of thing. Hell, I doubt this letter will ever see the light of day but I feel like if I don’t let out at least some of this steam I might actually explode.
I am in love with you.
I am so stupidly and hopelessly in love with you and that makes me so happy and so frustrated and so scared all at the same time.
I love your eyes. I love the little wrinkles you get around them when you smile. I love that stupid squint and tilt thing you do. I love your lips. I don’t think you realize how many times I have come thatclose to kissing you but I chicken out every time.
I love your stupid trenchcoat and your stupid tie. I love your voice. I love the way you say my name. I love that thing you do with your mouth whenever you try to anunciate enunciate certain letters and that little twitchy smile you make when you’re watching tv and something you think might be funny happens.
It would be easier for me to list the things that I don’t love about you at this point.
I just don’t think it’s fair to put this on you. Not yet. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to Sammy. Sometimes I think it’s a good idea. Like, having something to come back to, having something you’re fighting for but I don’t know. It might just complicate things. I do know that…I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve know that for a while, I think.
I want you to be the first thing I see every morning and the last thing I see every night. I want to get a house. I want to mow the lawn while you plant flowers. I want to go to shitty diners at three in the morning with you and eat pie and drink milkshakes. I want to spend an entire weekend on the couch with you watching the Star Wars saga. I want to camp out with you on the hood of the Impala in the middle of no where, tossing back beers and looking at the stars. I want to have barbecues in our backyard and hear you and Sammy and his wife and his kids laughing and talking at the table.
Hell, maybe we can have kids too. I don’t know if that’s pushing it. You’d be a good dad, though.
I just want you, Cas. I want you in every sense of the word. I don’t know if you feel the same way. I’d like to think you do. I’d like to think that…even if when you do reopen those pearly gates, you’ll…stay down here with me.
That might be asking too much. I don’t know. I’m going to ask anyways, though. Once this is all over, once Abaddon is dead, I’m going to put it out on the table and hope that you’ll still have me, cursed or not.
I love you, Cas.
-Dean Winchester
- Dean

翻得真好QWQ 给被922 923虐成渣渣的玻璃心上了胶水【我在说啥。。。。

jinxedambitions，tumblr，还是无授权QwQb
“Cas，我不知道你是否要进去。他一醒来就处于一种盲目的怒火之中，而你却并非处于力量最强的状态。”Sam在Cas打开门的时候警告他。
他能听见摔东西的声音，但他必须亲眼确定。因此，他还是打开了门，瞬间对上Dean深不可测的黑眼睛。Dean，或者在Dean身体里的那东西，对着Cas低吼，但他没有冲上来也没有试图逃跑。
“Cas，说真的，你不该……”
Cas已经迈入门槛。Dean仍然全身紧绷地站在房间中间，但他没有发起攻击。Cas空着手，投降似的缓缓靠近他。当他站定在Dean面前，而那恶魔仍然没有攻击他，他无法控制住自己不更靠近一些。
“Cas，停下！”Sam喊着，但太迟了。Cas的手已经捧上了Dean的下巴。他能从他指尖下他们肌肤相触的地方感受到他的温度，但Dean没有推开他。
“Dean。”他轻声说，想要从他漆黑的眼里寻找出一丝熟稔。
恶魔眨了一下眼，然后一双苔藓绿色的眼睛回望了Cas。Dean什么都没说，但他倚靠上了Cas的触碰。“你仍然是个正直的人类。”Cas将靠过去，让他们的额头贴在一起，轻轻耳语。
“你仍然是个带翅膀的小蠢货。”Dean以气声回应，近乎耳语。Cas感觉到他的身体因控制激动而轻颤。“别以为这意味着你能随心所欲地改装我的宝贝了。”Dean对Sam说。“Cas，你该走了。”他警告Cas然后轻轻推开他。
Cas犹豫了，但他看到黑色缓缓地在Dean眼里扩散，尽管他在与它对抗，但无济于事。“我们会帮助你，Dean。Sam和我，我们会救你。”Cas向他保证，然后缓缓转身向Sam走去。
“没有什么还留着让你们去拯救了。”恶魔低吼着发出刺耳的笑声，但Cas知道他在撒谎，因为Cas曾经将Dean支离破碎的灵魂拼凑起来，而若有必要他不介意再做一次，即使这会燃尽每一缕他剩下的偷来的荣光。
然而现在，他们唯一能做的就是关上门，不让Dean有机会做任何他可能会后悔的事。

"Cas, I don’t know if you want to go in there. He’s been in a blind rage since he woke up, and you aren’t exactly at full power," Sam warns as Cas unlocks the door.
He can hear things being thrown, but he has to see for himself. So, he opens the door, and his eyes immediately meet the fathomless black of Dean’s. Dean, or the thing wearing him, snarls at Cas, but he doesn’t run forward or attempt escape.
"Cas, really, you shouldn’t go…"
Cas is already across the threshold. Dean continues to stand menacingly across the room, but he doesn’t attack. Cas approaches slowly with his hands out in surrender. When he stands directly in front of Dean, and the demon still does not attack, he can’t stop himself from reaching up.
"Cas, no!" Sam shouts, but it’s too late. Cas’ hands already cup Dean’s jaw. He can feel the heat under his fingers where their connection burns, but Dean doesn’t pull away.
"Dean," he says softly as he searches the black for any recognition.
The demon blinks, then suddenly moss green eyes look back at Cas. Dean doesn’t say anything, but he leans into Cas’ touch. “You are still the righteous man,” Cas whispers as he leans forward to press their foreheads together.
"You’re still a nerdy little dude with wings," Dean breathes back in barely a whisper. Cas can feel him shaking to keep himself from lashing out. "And don’t think this means you can priss up Baby," Dean calls over to Sam. "Cas, you’ve got to go," he warns before lightly pushing Cas away.
Cas hesitates, but he watches the black slowly bleed back into Dean’s eyes, as though he’s fighting it but can’t win. “We’ll help you, Dean. Sam and I, we’ll save you,” Cas promises as he backs slowly toward Sam.
"There’s nothing left to save," the demon snarls with a cutting laughing, but Cas knows it’s a lie. It’s a lie, because Cas has pieced together Dean’s blackened soul once, and he’ll do it again if he needs to, even if it burns out every last bit of his stolen grace.
For now though, all they can do is shut the door and keep Dean from doing anything he would regret.