I don't exactly know how it happened, now that I think about it. It was all a blur, sort of, a quick, numb event that came without warning and left with barely a whisper. It was painless --something I must admit I wasn't expecting. I guess I assumed that with my personal experience with the universe, it wasn't going to let me leave without one final kick in the ass.
But it did, I suppose.
The first thing I noticed was everything. The way the air was simultaneously thick and wispy-thin, all while being both nonexistent and boldly present at the same time. Everything was silent, muffled, but it was in a way that was so thundering loud that it was the only thing that you could hear. There was a dull sort of chill, but the kind that made you feel comfortable and warm even though you knew that it was far from trustworthy.
I wandered. From what seemed like an instant to an eternity, I did nothing but what I knew I was meant to do from the start; exist. I crossed the stars and floated through the galaxies, feeling so whole and yet so incomplete at the same time. There was something out there -- I knew it. I could feel it quietly, insistently nudging my soul, so gentle and yet painfully reminiscent of the people I once walked alongside.
After eons -- or seconds, maybe -- I found it, echoing hollowly along the rims of a black hole. It was something so achingly beautiful, seeing beauty being born out of the destruction. It -- he -- said nothing, but spoke everything. I knew it at once, my soul blinking awake at the scent of sharp iron and salt and worn brown leather in the dense, quiet air.
"I know you," I breathed at once.
"And I know you," he said. "But the real question is whether you remember me."
A star winked in the distance, and suddenly it all came back like a precious gulp of air.
Messy salt rings. Musty yellow pages. Leather seats in a definitively important car. Blood-dripping blades. Blueberry pie. A soft flash of crimson flannel. Expertly crafted bullets. Eyes flashing from emerald green to death-black. A jagged engraved knife, and another one bearing teeth and bone. Short whispers of Latin. Bloodied knuckles and deadly flame. A worn leather jacket and a certain beige trench coat.
"I remember." I whispered.
A shiver ran through the air. "I waited for you." he said. "Minutes or centuries -- I don't know. But I waited."
"I remember you died," I said, watching. "I remember that day."
He was silent for a moment, pondering. "I forgot. You find yourself forgetting, here."
Some part of me had known that from the beginning, but to hear it was unsettling. There was a shudder in the veil.
"It's not a bad thing to let go, Castiel." he hummed. "Cas." he corrected himself.
But I found myself to be unwilling still. Earth had been a beautiful place, and there was a dull ache in my chest still heavy with nostalgia and heartbreak. As magnificent as this place was, it wasn't like Earth. It would never be like it was before again, and some part of me felt broken, because of that.
"Do you feel it?" he asked from the black hole. "Don't you know what you're missing?"
"It's you, isn't it? I know it's you."
He scoffed lightly. "It's not me."
My mind flashed back to the memory of Earth again. The part of me that was still there, floating drowsily in the wind like an echo.
"But I don't want to let go," I choked. "I don't want to forget."
"What do you think I'm here for, Cas?" he asked gently. "What do you think I've always been here for?"
I was silent, the stars silky and fluid.
"You'll never lose yourself, not when you're with me. Not when I'm here to keep that part of you safe."
And then the air was still again, lifeless and yet so vibrant like it had sighed for the last time. I let out a breath, allowing myself to settle in the hollow feeling of the wind. "Okay." I said, smile reflecting the oh-so-familiar half-smirk of his.
