Destiel one shots

Held, Not Healed

The night air in the Bunker was cold, not biting—but still, a stillness like the moment before snowfall, the kind that hushes everything into reverence.

Dean lay awake in his bed, he hadn't slept—not really—in days, the healing Cas gave him had mended the physical aches, but the soul, that was different.

He felt light, he definitely did, it was not like he had forgotten everything, the painful memories, no they were still there.

But he didn't remember the pain, it was like the pain was gone, it was like watching a movie with no connection or emotions towards it.

He knew it should hurt, he knew it should make him cry, but it didn't, it didn't feel like anything at all, so it made him feel something else.

Guilt wasn't a wound, it was a weight and tonight, it pressed heavy on his chest, why? Because the pain he didn't feel was felt by Cas. 

He knew Cas was carrying it, he knew Cas knew him now like an open book and that felt both great and awful.

He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, wishing he could go back, take back every time he doubted Cas. 

Every time he treated his love like a soldier, not a soul, the door creaked. He didn't turn. He didn't have to.

He knew those footsteps, Cas didn't say anything at first, just walked to the foot of the bed and stood there, waiting.

Dean finally spoke, "Couldn't sleep", he said and even though he didn't know, Cas has sensed that and was there for that reason.

"I know," Cas said gently, here was silence again, then Dean shifted, sitting up slowly, "You... you didn't have to heal me earlier", he said.

Cas blinked, head tilted just slightly, familiar and fond, "Of course I did", he said and Dean shook his head. 

"No. I mean—you did it even after hearing what I said. After everything I put you through. After all the times I—", he stopped his voice catching in his throat, how can he apologize after everything he's done.

Cas crossed the room quickly and kneeled beside the bed and took Dean's hand, he made Dean look at him.

His voice was low, reverent, "You think love is a debt, Dean. It isn't. It's a choice. One I've made every single day. Not because I'm bound to you. But because... I belong with you", he said softly.

Dean choked on his breath, "I'm supposed to be strong," he whispered, "I'm supposed to protect the people I care about. But you—", he said trying to explain, trying to do something to make Cas feel great.

Cas reached up, fingertips brushing his cheek, "You do protect us. All of us. In ways I can't. You give people something I never knew I needed", he said.

Dean stared at him, broken open, "What's that?", he whispered and Cas smiled, soft and small, brushing Dean's hair away from his forehead.

"Home", he said softly and that shattered Dean completely, all his life he never had a home, running with his father and brother, going from town to town and now here he was, an angel of lord was telling him that Dean made him feel at home and for once even Dean felt at home.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Cas's and for a moment, the world didn't feel so heavy.

Cas's grace shimmered faintly between them—just a whisper of light. Not power. Not show. Just warmth. Real and quiet and healing.

As always comforting Dean like he needed and Dean closed his eyes, "How do you do it? Keep giving? Even when it hurts?", he asked asking for a genuine answer.

Cas exhaled like starlight, "Because hope is a fire. And sometimes the world forgets how to light it. So I do. Until someone else remembers. Until you remember", he said as if it is the simplest thing in the Universe.

Dean smiled through tears, "God, I love you", he confessed finally spilling his feeling and Cas cupped Dean's back head holding him close.

Cas smiled back, "You were always meant to", he said and Dean pulled away looking playfully offended.

"That's it? You aren't gonna say it back?", he asked and Cas chuckled, "I don't think I need to say it cause words aren't enough for me to tell you how I feel about you", he said and Dean melted.

"Why are you being such a sap for me?", he asked and Cas pulled him close again, making their foreheads touch again.

"Because you are the one who makes me feel things", he said and Dean smiled pulling Cas closer by his trench coat.

They stayed like that—two men who had seen the end of the world, still believing in tomorrow, but more than that still believing in each other.

Later, Cas curled beside him under the blanket, one arm around Dean's waist, hand pressed gently against his heart—not to heal, but to hold.

And Dean, who had fought monsters, demons, gods and himself— Slept. Peacefully. For the first time in weeks.

Because Cas was there. And when Cas is there—

There is always hope.