Missing You - A Destiel Oneshot

First of all, may I just say that this is special to me. I have always been a Destiel (Dean and Castiel) shipper, and this is my first fanfic for them. If you're squeamish and not into the boyxboy stuff, click off and don't read on! If you are a SPN shipper, like me, then I hope you enjoy. This is set just after 7x1, I think, just after Castiel died because of the Leviathans. then, enjoy! And don't forget to fan, vote comment. Azzella Xxx <3

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam watched Dean intently as he held onto something he thought was long lost, the last picture of the group before Lucifer; Bobby, Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen, and - worst of all – Castiel.

It had been three days. Three long, agonizing days since purgatory’s inmates, the Leviathans, had claimed the life of Castiel. Sam missed the angel but moved on, as he had not been too close to the man, and continued searching for his next hunt, ready to take out whatever emotions he had of his death out of the monsters that were unlucky enough to cross their path.

“I’m going out,” he told his brother, trying to curl up his lip in a sad attempt of a smile. “Want me to bring you some pie?”

Dean didn’t answer. He continued staring at the cracked motel room wall, fingers gripping onto the photograph like it was his life support.

“I’ll bring some pie… And a bacon cheeseburger?” Again, he was answered with silence. “I won’t be long. Be back soon.” He unfurled his long legs from around the chair legs and stood to his full, enormous height, walking out the door with a single sad look back.

 ****

Dean couldn’t look up at Sam. If he did, the tears in his green eyes would show and Sammy would know the depth of his grieving, and he couldn’t have that.

Looking down at the photograph, clenched tightly in his grip, was beginning to crease beneath his fingertips, but still showed him something he thought he could never see again. After the incident with the devil and Jo and Ellen's death, Bobby had thrown this photo into his fireplace, and they had watched it singe to ashes. Yet, here it was.

He wouldn’t tell Sam where he had found it. Sam would find a million logical reasons for why it was there, but Dean knew he needed this secret. If the photograph had appeared in Castiels trench-coat pocket, when before it had been empty, then it gave him hope that the Angel wasn’t dead.

But the Angel was dead. He had watched the Leviathans take control of his body and walk him into that lake... Cas's heavy tan trench-coat lay beside him at the bottom of the bed but he couldn't bring himself to look at it. He only had eyes for the paper in his hands.

Stroking a thumb over the tainted picture, a low sigh escaped his chapped, dry lips. He missed his Angel; he missed his Cas. He stared absently at the figure standing off to the side, his arms hanging limply by his sides and his gaze blank as per usual. He black hair was spiked in all directions and his piercing blue eyes staring out through the photo, like he was really looking at Dean.

“C’mon, Cas!” Dean roared to the air, slamming the picture onto the hard bed he was previously sat on as he jumped to his feet and began pacing in a rage. “You can’t be dead, you dick! You’re a friggin’ Angel! You! Can! Not! Leave! Me!”

Silence fell. The air was thick and heavy as his first tears fell. The quiet was broken, though, as he fell to his knees, sobbing. He chest ached with the loss he felt, grief and anguish and, most of all, regret. Castiel, as innocent and naïve as he had been, was the best friend Dean had always wanted. Maybe more. And he had never even told him.