Eyes Are The Windows Of The Soul

Hellooo... Trickster?

Sam looked up from where he fell on his knees, his head still pounding, thoughts still groggy.

“Gabriel,” he said in awe.

“That’s right little buddy. Gabe’s back into business! Ya miss me?”

Sam shook his head and looked down.

“Wait, so that was all just a hallucination?” Gabriel had played his hand of tricks on the brothers. He had killed Dean on a normal Tuesday afternoon, over and over again for what felt like months. He put them on TV, expecting them to act their parts to escape. There had been many, but this was his biggest trick of all.

“You were dead. Lu-Lucifer killed you. Your wings burned. You glowed.” Sam rubbed his temples.

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed.

“You really think I’d let my big brother kill me? Hells no!” He held his finger up for emphasis. “Pun intended.” He smiled wider. God, he’s so full of himself.

Sam groaned.

“Come on, let’s go see your brother.” Gabe grabbed Sam by his right bicep and flew him to the ground.

~*~

Dean lay still underneath me. I could faintly feel the rise and fall of his chest with every beat of his heart. His heart was fighting so hard to keep beating. I felt so useless. I was powerless. All I could do was make him feel safe, and do anything I could to keep him breathing.

Even if it meant I had to make a deal with that thing.

I don’t know how I had come to hold Dean Winchester so close to me. We were a one night stand. We were hunting partners for just this one case. We had only known each other for a week, at most. And yet, little things had dug their way into my subconscious. The way he would eat everything on his plate, savoring every bite, as if he didn’t know when he would have his next meal. The way that his eyes flashed at every shadow, hovering behind to make sure it was safe. The way he looked so at peace when he was sleeping soundly, the way he showed his weaknesses when his sleep wasn’t all that pretty.

Even the way that he closed himself off from everyone. He had lost so many people in his life. He couldn’t let himself care about anyone else anymore. Not that he didn’t care, because he cared more than any other human I had met, it was his survival instinct.

“Cas?”

“Dean?” I removed my hair from our faces. I stared into those unrealistically green eyes.

I’ve heard the expression “the eyes are the windows to the soul” before.

This. This was different.

I saw past Dean’s face, past the blood and bone, past the memories, the personality, the instincts, and saw the most beautifully damaged thing to ever exist.

A light, bright and warm, a feeling, security and love, an embrace, like a mother with her newborn child. It was none of these things, yet all of them. It was a symphony of the most finely tuned and played instruments, a mosaic of colors and textures, the smell of rain drifting through the flowing branched of a weeping willow. It was ecstasy.

Still, there were parts that were damaged. A spot that wasn’t as bright, or beautiful as its counterparts, a jagged scar from the recreation after hell. I knew every single inch of this soul. I knew everything about The Great Dean Winchester. I knew every dark corner that he had shoved his beasts and demons into. I know of every person he’s ever loved.

I know because I am the one who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.

I spent weeks fighting my way into Hell. Many of my brothers and sisters lost their lives. We almost didn’t make it. That’s when I saw him. Every nightmare he ever had trapped in the same room with him. He was bloody, beaten, broken, dead. There was no difference between him and a slaughtered bull. With a touch of my wings, the chains broke. I grasped his shoulder and pulled him into my arms. I yelled at the top of my lungs, tears flowing,