Writing's on the Wall Destiel

Chapter 15

It seemed to Dean that each minute, each hour, each day went by slower without Castiel. He was continually working, continually praying, but nothing ever brought the angel. He didn't dare go to sleep; he knew images of Castiel would appear. He avoided everything that reminded him of Castiel- blue ties, trench coats. How he loved that coat.

It was the same everyday for seven months. Every day, Dean would skip breakfast, maybe down a cup of coffee or two, and work a job, returning by midnight and repeating it the next morning.

He pretended Castiel's absence didn't affect him, but Sam knew. He had seen and heard Dean praying, "Hey, Cas, I don't know if you're getting this, but if you are...please. I need you to come back."

Other times, Dean would try the overachieving holy prayer that went as follows: "Dear Castiel who art be fighting in heaven, I pray that you will get your ass down here." More often than not, Sam had to stifle the funny thought of how the other angels would react if they heard Dean's prayers.

As for the war, it had been strangely quiet on all fronts. Since they didn't have Castiel, no word came from upstairs, although Dean was sure it was civil war up there. In hell, Sam assumed Lucifer was summoning the largest battalion of demon troops who's ever walk the earth. Crowley, of course, was very much against it and loudly complained to Bobby about it whenever he could.

They didn't take the silence as calm; no, there was no making that mistake in war. They waited, day after day, for something, anything to show.

One day, true to tradition, they were sitting in Bobby's living room when Bobby got up. "I'm going on a supply run. Don't do anything stupid, boys."

"Got it, Bobby." Dean waited until the door shut to pull out his phone and scroll though his list of contacts. He paused at Castiel's name, his thumb hovering over the screen as he debated. Should he? Should he not? It had been several months since Castiel left and Dean felt like a hollow shell. The added fact that the last thing Castiel said about him bounced in his head didn't help. Cas loves you, Dean.

Bull, thought Dean bitterly. It can't be romantically. He's a frigging angel for God's sake.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" he said, pocketing his phone.

"Are you going to call Cas?"

"Nah. He won't answer."

"Maybe he will this time," he offered.

"Sam, I appreciate what you're trying to do, I mean it. But Cas...he's got a steaming heap on his plate. There's a civil war raging in heaven...I don't think we should disturb him. Anyway, he's better off without us."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Come on, Dean. I know you miss him. I do too, but....I hear you. You're always praying to him and you've got this..this look in your eyes...like hope. I know you're waiting for him to come back."

"Mention Cas one more time and I'll break your nose." Dean fixed Sam with a serious look. "I'm not kidding."

"Okay, I won't." Sam watched as Dean stiffly nodded and walked into the kitchen. He already knew how Dean felt about Castiel. Even an idiot could tell that he was falling hard for the angel. Then again, so was Castiel.

He sighed and opened up his laptop, Googling cases for the hundredth time of the day. As his eyes landed on a particular article, they widened in surprise. "Dean! You might want to see this!"

Meanwhile
Castiel held his hands up in surrender as Uriel approached him with an angel blade. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing this for the greater good, Castiel."