Destiel Oneshots - [Mostly Wing!Kink]

Healing Process

this is long 😌

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Castiel had no idea how long he sat there, staring at the ceiling with the edges of his vision getting blurrier and darkening by the second. He knew he should probably heal himself, and he should probably get out of there before Dean came back, but he didn't. The energy to move was drained out of him, he didn't think of leaving yet.

Blood was obturated in his throat, threatening to make him cough and sputter. At first he felt numb, as if his vessel was distant. As if he was just lying down on the floor without anything wrong at all. But the slightest movement to move was what got him mewling in pain, the pangs of affliction hitting him hard. If he had his damn grace in put, it wouldn't hurt this bad. All of his muscles and instinct screamed at him to stop, but Castiel slowly forced his body to get up. Lying on the floor wouldn't fix anything. He'd just pass out, and wake up to Dean telling him he should've left earlier and ramming a blade into his chest.

Some of his gut wished that happened.

As his figure stood up his legs immediately was buckled and he threw his hand out to catch himself onto something, only to find his grasp reaching onto nothing and smashing himself onto the same table Dean had slammed him onto repeatedly earlier. His already strained spine hit the edge of the table. Castiel opened his mouth to groan in pain, but nothing came out but a soundless bawl. He stood there for a moment, his vision blurring in and out like an out of focus camera, but he again forced himself to move. And again, his legs buckled. This time he caught himself on an empty bookshelf, which was a reminder that the gasoline smothered books were still there.

Something caught his eye. There was a photo at the foot of the book mountain.

Castiel stared at it from where he was. He felt like the room was spinning, but he moved his weak legs anyways. He stumbled down, landing harshly on his knees and getting out a pained grunt from him. He picked up the photo, now seeing the cracked and abused form of the piece of paper. Despite the worn state, there stood a smiling ear to ear photo of a child version of Dean and his mother. Mary looked beautiful, her golden hair brushed past her ear and down behind her shoulders.

Despite himself and throbbing pain, Castiel smiled.

There was another photo, this one in a frame, with fissured glass covering the front. Bobby was there, along with younger versions of Sam and Dean by his side. Castiel was an actual angel when this photo was taken, still under the order of heaven albeit still having his impermissible doubts about his obedience. His eyes trailed to Dean to Sam to Bobby....

Maybe if he hadn't taken that stupid deal Crowley propounded... Maybe if he thought more of the Winchesters and their father figure more... Maybe Bobby would still be alive. For a moment he could hear his heartbeat, pounding against his ribs (which had some fractures, and hurt like hell) but the pounding was getting louder and louder. Castiel thought his ribs were going to burst, but then he recognized that the pounding was not only his heart, but footsteps.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Castiel whirled around, or what was a pathetic attempt of turning around, and tried to get out of this persons grasp. He stumbled and hit his back on the book pile behind him. All of his mind went to instant fear, and he threw his hands up to feebly protect himself from any sort of strike.

"Please."

He whimpered, expecting Dean to land a punch on him.

"Woah woah, Cas its okay! Its me!"

Castiel was never so grateful to hear that voice.

"Sam."

He breathed, lowering his hands, though he was still marginally on edge. He felt Sam grab his shoulders and lift his face. He couldn't see much, but through the haze he could see the look of shock and perturb on the younger Winchester's face.