Supernatural One Shots and imagines

Photograph (Destiel one shot)

5 weeks had passed and Sam was losing all hope that Dean was alive Castiel was still refusing to believe the inevitable but solemn truth. They both had thier share of tears and guilt but Sam was almost relieved by the thought of his brother finally at rest. Castiel knew if Dean was truely dead than he would never be able to see the hunter again, his hunter. Grief consumed them both slowly as the realized just how helpless they are.

All Cas had was a small polaroid picture of Dean; arm draped around Cas lazily, his mouth slightly agape from a small chuckle, and his unrealisticly green eyes were half lidded. No matter where him and Sam were or what they were doing Cas kept the picture in the front pocket of the worn jeans, Dean's jeans.
The photo always made him smile even through fits of sorrow and fury. Cas love the tjouhht of photographs their eyes were never closing, their hearts were never broken, time was forever frozen still. It was almost poetic. They never sroped smiling, they were happy for all eternity. But most importantly Cas had Dean and that was all that mattered.

Cas had started wearing Dean's clothes after 2 weeks. They smelled like whiskey, smoke and all around Dean. The shirts where too long and the pants were too baggy but they were Dean. There hadn't been a day where Cas hadn't blamed himself for Dean's disappearance. Mostly he blamed himself for losing his grace and becoming human. he wanted more than anything to turn back time and save the righteous man, his righteous man.

Dean died on a Monday in the darkness of a bone dry night. He died like the extraordinary hero he was, he ran straight into the burning house to save anyone he could. But he couldn't save the one person that mattered most to Cas, himself. There was no bodies found in the fire, however, leaving a drop of hope in the two boys. That drop had mostly evaporated by now and the two were still just as bad as they had started.

For some reason Cas always heard a song right before he went to sleep, it was sung by a sweet, melodic yet broken voice. It was just one verse before, as Dean would put it, angel radio was silent again. it was the only reason Cas had any hope that Dean was in fact alive. The song belonged to a love song by an Edward Sheeran it was called photograph funnily enough.

Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes
But it's the only thing I know, oh
When it gets hard, you know it gets hard sometimes
It is the only thing that makes us feel alive
We keep this love is photograph, we made these memories for ourselves
Were our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, time is forever frozen still
So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans holding you close until our eyes meet you won't ever be alone
Wait for me too come home

What the two didn't know was that Dean was alive, well he was just barely alive by now. An angel who was looking for Castiel had taken him hostage after the fire. He was now stationed in the basement of a old building. Here he has been tortured healed slightly and tortured again. Dean refused to give way to the angel knowing that if he did Cas would never see the light of day again. He had requested help from a old friend of the brothers, from the moon cycle it would be today that he would arrive. The moon was pure and bright in the black abyss of the sky. The shrill cries of a wolf pack could be heard from a mile away. The sound made Dean giddy with hope. Snarling and barking were mixed with the screams of their victim, the angel. Paws were on the basement steps before Dean could count to twenty.
"Hey old pal," a familiar voice greeted from behind him.
"Garth I am so glad you're here buddy you have no idea." a laugh came from behind the chair. Two hands freed Dean from the tight metal restraints.
When Dean was finally released he hug his saviour, who was in fact the small, quirky hunter and now werewolf, Garth.
"Dean! You look horrible!" He said
"I am mostly fine, really Garth. I just need a ride." the smaller hunter nodded sceptically.

Cas had just laid on Dean's bed and was ready to sleep when he heard a yell rip through his head. it was hard to make out at first but he then realised that it was his name being repeated along with the words "I am coming home". Cas' eyes widened and he sprung up and ran to the door of the bunker. The door swung open to the man himself pure and strong. He was clad in tight pants and a flannel both borrowed from the pack. Castiel pounced on that taller man tears escaping his eyes silenly.
"247." Cas stated blatantly giving no explanation as to what the number actually meant.
"What was that, angel?" Dean asked softly playing with the shorter man's hair leaving kisses atop his head at random intervals.
"You have 247 freckles on your cheeks." Dean chuckled at the adorableness of his little angel.
"I- we thought you were dead. I counted them in the photograph I have of you 247 give or take a few." Cas continued placing a quick kiss to the hunters cheek.
"248," this bridge of his nose "249" and other cheek "250".
"I love you"
With that Cas bolted upright in bed, tears streamed down his cheeks and he looked over at his blissfully sleeping hunter on the other side of him.
"I love you, Dean."