For hours we were on the floor together, broken and bloody, before Sam arrived to rouse us. Cas was still hurt, but he forced himself to heal my spine before excusing us both to my room. Too depressed to object, but too anxious to lay down, I simply took a seat at the foot of my bed.
What I wanted was to stay up and help Sam with whatever he needed. Find Dean, deal with Rowena...or just lend some company and sympathy for the loss of Charlie.
But Castiel wasn't having it. He knew I was exhausted and clearly hiding some thoughts and feelings. When I didn't move a muscle, he grumbled impatiently and bent over to yank my boots off for me. Then sitting down, he leaned in to peel off my jacket too.
"I don't want to sleep," I informed him under my breath.
"I don't think you can fight it," he replied, resting his still bludgeoned face on the top of my head, "feel free to try."
He was right, as usual. Just being close to and touching his bigger, warmer self was intoxicating. My eyes were already closed as I leaned in and let him tuck his shredded wing around me. It took me a little by surpise to feel and see the dark feathers again. He'd only recently gotten them back, and I hadn't had that kind of power for some time. I chalked it up to the power of love and didn't question it as I reached up to touch what feathers were still intact.
"Do they hurt?" I murmured, sympathetic and sorry for the loss of them.
A low chuckle vibrated beneath me.
"No. But I do miss them, the way they were."
I finally let loose an uncontrollable yawn. "Me too...so beautiful."
The compliment warmed him, it was the nicest thing I'd said to him in years. In response to my yawning, he shifted under me to get his coat and blazer off, before dragging my stubborn self further onto the bed with him. I caved and collpased on a pillow without a thought, finding those same wings and arms re-tucking around me in a cocoon before I even got comfortable.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
I wasn't sure why, but something about that perfect contentment made me feel the need to confess things. Even fatigued as I was.
"I came willingly, you know."
"Hm?"
"Back. To Earth. He asked me. And I said yes," I admitted quietly.
A hand drove tenderly through the deepest parts of my hair and lingered a grasp in it.
"Why..?"
"For you," I said nuzzling closer to his neck, "I figured you...you weren't alright. So I'm...I'm sorry, I was angry and vindictive. It was my choice too."
"You didn't know you couldn't come back," he said guiltily.
"That doesn't matter," I yawned out, "I still gave it up. I knew it wasn't real and the real thing still needed me."
Cas didn't say anything else, just throbbed with appreciation and a little surpise that I still loved him that much. That I had wholly forgiven him, and shared some blame.
"I still dream about it, sometimes," I slurred, nearly asleep, "that's almost the same."
He hummed pleasantly and kissed my head, knowing he was winning.
"Maybe I'll visit."
☆☆☆☆☆
My angel stayed with me all night, in a bed, for what felt like the first time. I did indeed have sweet dreams that night; memories conjured from peices I remembered of heaven. And he did indeed visit, though he kept his distance and watched. I wasn't entirely aware of the real thing lingering as an audience, but I sensed him and his real feelings. Especially when he saw our daughters.
I missed them more than anything, and it was because a part of me knew they were real, in a way. They were a possibility materialized in a matrix paradise. Something that could've happened, if I wasn't barren and my life wasn't all about death.
