horns to hold up my halo

+ plead the fifth

#[ sobs a little bit. ]#music box;#v: stay

01. snow patrol - the lightning strike (what if this storm ends) // 02. the script - the end where i begin // 03. frightened rabbit - if you were me // 04. birdy - skinny love // 05. vertical horizon - everything you want // 06. christina perri - human // 07. secondhand serenade - a twist in my story // 08. coldplay - the scientist // 09. the red jumpsuit apparatus - your guardian angel // 10. rihanna - stay

Dean nods, listening in silence to Cas’ promises—his pleas. He recognizes the agony in Cas’ voice, and realizes for the first time that this isn’t easy for the angel, either. He wants nothing more, in that moment there, than to pull Castiel into his arms, tell him it’s not his fault, that there’s nothing they can do and nothing for Cas to feel bad about.

But he’s frozen. Scared of rejection, because he’s seen Cas like this before. This is angel Cas. This is the soldier. And he doesn’t know how to act around that Cas anymore. He knows the Cas that’s stripped him naked and seen him vulnerable is still in there somewhere—he’s just not sure how close to the surface he is.

“He’s, uh—he’s upstairs, Cas. But I dunno, it looks pretty bad.”

Cas will heal him.

Anything--anything--for Dean.

"Dean." It comes out no more than a whisper. He hasn't moved, just stands still as a statue with his eyes glued to the floor because Dean is--Cas can feel him. He remembers the nights, many years ago, where Dean was alone quite like this--where his nightmares would have him screaming in his sleep and Cas would pop in, for only a second, to calm him and send him only the sweetest of dreams. Fishing, good memories of his childhood, fragments of his mother-- but now Dean is wide awake and as raw as he'd ever seen him.

And it's his fault. He's lost everyone, and now Cas can't do much of anything because they both suffer from the worst of broken hearts, whether or not Dean chooses to admit it. But Cas would. In a second, he'd fall to his knees and beg for Dean to take him back because he loves him. And that's what you do for the people you love, isn't it?

#[ you are so fucking cute i hate you ]#broken wings.#spoilers #spn spoilers #9x09

plaiding-blog

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mishas-assbutts

#broken wings.#spoilers #spn spoilers #9x09

“Dead.” He says it quickly, as if that could stop it from stinging more than it already does.

He swallows, keeping his eyes downcast even as he shuts the door behind his—the angel. Not his. He scrunches his nose and tries to think of anything other than how he knows this Cas, the way he’s acting is nothing like the one he fell in love with. He’s not going to get that back, not now.

“Thought you’d know that,” he says gruffly.

"Dean, I am so--" His apology means nothing.

Hell, at this point, Dean has lost Sam.. and Kevin.. and Cas himself probably means nothing. He wants to reach out and touch him. Fingers smoothing away the wrinkles in his forehead, palms pushing away the tears he knows have already stained Dean's cheeks-- he wants more than anything--

"What can I do? I can heal him--Kevin. It will take quite a bit of strength, but I can bring him back, I can--" His voice doesn't break. He doesn't feel it scratch in the back of his throat because God knows he doesn't want to cry in front of Dean, not now.

"I'll do anything in my power, Dean, you know I will."

#[ cas trying to pray his erection away ]#broken wings.#spoilers #spn spoilers #9x09

peculiar-angel

Dean looks down. He can’t stand to see the look in Castiel’s eyes—the hurt. He feels like shit, always will for making him leave, but now? This? Seeing all of those memories, all of those stolen nights and the stupid secrets they shouldn’t have told and promises they couldn’t keep—it kills him. He takes a step back, gestures with his arm, still refusing to make eye contact. “Make yourself at home.”

The bunker feels like home but--not. He's lived here, loved here, and now he feels almost like an alien in the one place he assumed to be safe. Castiel steps past Dean, looking around. "What about--? Kevin." He doesn't want to look at Dean again, considering he's pretty sure he knows the answer to that question. Normally, Kevin would have been the first to greet him--but with a rogue angel on the lose in Sam's body... Anything could be possible at this point.

Dean swallows and leans against the heavy bunker door, letting flurries flutter in and onto the floor. “Yeah.”

Castiel sighs, arms wrapping slightly tighter around his own chest. Being an angel again--what a relief it is--doesn't take away from the fact that, he's grown to like the ever-changing weather. It's snowing lightly in Kansas toady, so he's worn a heavier jacket that used to belong to Dean. He shifts his weight, and looks back up, meeting the green eyes of his--friend. "Please. Let me in." His tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip. "I want to help."