Destiel One Shots

Twist and Sob

Abigail screeched loudly, running away from her uncle.
"I'm going to get you, Peanut!" Dean boomed, taking large thumping steps after her. "You may be five now, but I'm still going to catch you!"

The young blonde girl scrambled to hide from Dean, racing into his room and shutting the door.

He stopped for a moment, taking labored breaths. Chasing around a little kid wasn't as easy as it used to be, and Dean needed a break every once and a while. He knew he would be running after her again soon enough.

"Open the door!" He knocked on the wood with the ball of his fist. She didn't answer. Reaching down to the knob and finding it unlocked, he turned it, and slipped inside the room.

There he found Abigail picking something mangled off the floor. The young girls expression was full of remorse.
"It was an accident. I didn't mean too, Uncle Deanie, I-I..."

The man pushed past his niece to see a pair of smashed on the floor. The wire frame on one side was bent in an unnatural angle, the glass cracked on the right lends. He gingerly picked them up off the floor.

Dean felt the prick of tears in his eyes as the weight in his hand that he hadn't felt for years suddenly grew heavier.

"Gimme a moment, Peanut."

Dean's voice was almost too gentle, like the budding tears had softened it. But he couldn't help it. He didn't even turn to see her quickly leave the room, closing the door behind her.

Biting his lip was one way he usually made the tears fade away, but it didn't work. The ache in his chest amplified. He hadn't even known that was possible, but somehow, it had.

Dean stood up shakily, nursing the old wire frames, and practically stumbling over to a corner of his closet he nearly never looked at anymore.

There lay an old record player, a Polaroid camera, an Elvis record, and a few faded photo's. He picked up one and held it in his hand.

The edges were worn from calluses fingers running over them countless times, the image itself having a few imperfections. But Dean could still see the blue eyes he knew so well shine not quite right in the ink, the glasses surrounding them, dark brown hair above it all.

He didn't dare put on the record, but he could faintly hear Elvis playing somewhere, taunting him.

"I'm sorry... Cas, I'm sorry..." Dean fell to his knees, clutching both of the possessions.

Dean wiped his eyes, staring at the photo. A single tear landed on the corner, quickly wiped away.

The man fell completely over, doubling onto the ground, and shut his eyes tightly.

The glasses dug into his hand as he clutched it to his chest. Dean began to make muffled crying noises, followed by slow tears.

"I'm sorry, baby." It was barely a whisper, grainy and rough. His whole body was racking with broken sobs.

"Is that Uncle Cas?" A quiet voice whispered from behind him.

Dean paused, sniffling heavily, sucking in a breath of air.

"W-what?" He turned around to see Abigail had entered the room once more, standing behind him.

"Daddy say's were not supposed to talk about him. He says Uncle Cas is with the angels. What does that mean?"

Dean admired her innocence, how oblivious she was to everything, incredibly pure. He wished he could be the same way.

"Yes, peanut. Cas is up in Heaven now."

"Why aren't you in Heaven with him?" She drew her eyebrows together.

"It's not that simple, sweetheart. I wish I could be." Dean wiped his eyes hastily on his sleeve, trying to conceal them from his young niece.

"Do you love him?"

The question was simple, and so was the answer. Perhaps the easiest question he had ever been given. He felt himself choke on accumulated emotion in his throat, feeling it rub his mouth raw.

"More than anything." Was all he could manage, gripping the photo tightly in his finger tips.

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Why do I do this to myself?2!&2!:&/!

Thanks dDeanddeanarebottoms