Destiel One-Shots

Falling To Pieces

A/N sorry...

It was 3am when Dean was awoken by the call. The muffled vibrations from under his pillow startled him. He groaned as he picked it up, eyes squinting at the new brightness his eyes had to quickly become accustomed to. It said 'blocked caller ID' so Dean answered it with apprehension, hugging the pillow closer with the phone to his ear lazily.

"Hello?" His gruff voice grumbled in the sharp, cold air.

"Dean...Winchester...?"

Dean froze. The last one Cas had been in contact with him was before...before the fall. The Angels, crashing from the sky, expelled from heaven, scaring the crap out of Dean. And he thought Cas had been hurt, harder than the rest of them because of his choices. His loyalty to him. And now the panting and trembling words belonged to that rebellious angel which cared him even more.

"Cas, where are you? What happened? Are you okay?" Dean sat up sharply and threw the sheets off of himself.

"I have a new phone," Castiel replied, a little primly. The sound of wind and cars also filled the speakers. And Dean had to clap his hand over his mouth to stop himself from - laughing, or crying, or both? He wasn't sure, but the familiarity of Castiel's voice was trickling into the empty space in his chest, very slowly filling him, and it was almost painful. "I...I transferred the number."

Dean gulped and tilted his head back as he looked up, as though he could tip his feelings back to the bottom of his heart, where they'd been resting untouched, gathering dust and aching quietly for so long.

"Dean?"

Dean felt something inside him crack and tear sharply, breaking with a resonance that he felt in his whole body, like a wall of ice splitting down the centre as it melted away.

"Yeah, buddy. I...okay, can you come here. I'll-I'll look after you."

"Actually...I'll...I'll be there with you within the hour, Dean," his voice sounded strained like he was trying to be strong for Dean. Like he was grouching out all these words to stabilise Dean.

As Cas hung up on him, Dean felt a lightness about the situation in all the dark. Cas was coming home to him, even if he was confused and conflicted about his emotions about it. About Cas. There was happiness fluttering in his stomach, protectiveness as Cas wasn't an angel. But he wasn't...human either? Close enough. Maybe Dean could get close enough to Cas to figure it all out too.

-

He was pacing the main bunker room in his boxer briefs and his jacket, hands shoved in pockets as he stared at his feet until they were sore. He hugged himself with one hand around his chest, resting the other elbow on it and biting his fingers.

Finally the few knocks at the front door came. Dean looked up and dropped his jacket to the floor and sprinted, feet padding on the wooded panel ground until he got to the front door.

He practically ripped it off its hinges as he threw it open. Then, for a moment he paused, taking in the sight in front.

Cas was there, obviously. But he was different. Wounded, bleeding and more tired than the dead walking. His eyes were drooping, dark bags under them, and there was a cut on his bottom lip like he'd been in a fight.

His clothes were worn and torn, frayed with blood soaking through everything. It didn't even matter to Dean though.

For a moment they stood, feet apart, frozen by the moment, caught under the weight of their understanding, their sadness, their joy - and then Dean opened his mouth, and reached out his hands, and Cas was moving towards him before Dean could even speak his name around the sob caught in his throat.