a man afraid of flying, and an angel afraid of falling

say your prayers

What would have happened if Cas had been at the door, 15x19.

words: 1.9k

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d e a n

Dean had been to hell.

Dean has been dead, several times.

He'd dealt with more evil than any human should in a lifetime.

And yet.

He'd never been as broken as now.

Shattered.

He felt like he had lost everything.

Hope.

Love.

Everything.

All of it. Gone.

In the blink of an eye.

All of it, to an all-consuming dark emptiness.

Because the one he thought he could never have...

He could have had him all along. He'd just been too blind to see it, not brave enough to ever voice his feelings. He'd loved him all these years, but he's kept quiet about it.

And now it was too late.

Cas was gone.

Dead.

Trapped in darkness.

Emptiness.

Returning to the bunker with Cas that night, Dean could not even imagine things turning out as they did. He'd rather Death have taken them both. Losing Cas like that was worse than them going out together.

He would have followed him if he could.

Had Cas not pushed him away.

Dean would have followed.

He couldn't look Jack in the eyes.

He couldn't talk to Sam.

Dean was so lost.

So, he drowned himself in alcohol. Drinking, drinking, drinking. Until he couldn't feel a damn thing. Until he didn't know a damn thing. Until he didn't remember how to do anything, except pray. He spent the nights passed out on the floor somewhere in the bunker. Spent his mornings trying to find something that could help him. Spent his days drinking when he gave up after coming up with nothing.

Dean was lost.

So, all he did was pray. Not to any God. Not to any being. Not to any angel. But to him.

He prayed to him. Cas.

His Cas.

Jack and Sam tried too, tried to find something. But they never did. Dean couldn't stand it anymore, the silence in the library. The weight on his shoulders pressing him down. The knowledge of how this was all his fault and he couldn't do anything about it.

He should have followed him.

So, he did the one thing he knew he could do. He walked to the kitchen, pulling out another bottle of beer, sat down on the floor, and started drinking.

His mind wandering to the angel.

Pulled out another bottle of beer.

Sat down on the floor and started drinking again.

His mind screaming out the words he hadn't said. Screaming them out in prayers.

Pulled out another bottle of beer.