Multifandom Oneshots

Wishful thinking (Post Purgatory oneshot)

(A/N Yep. Another Cas imagine. I'm obsessed. There are gonna be a lot of these.)

You were glad Dean was back. You really, really were. It was just...

Cas had been with him. And he wasn't there. And Dean wouldn't talk about it.

The one time you'd managed to catch him saying anything at all about Cas was when neither of the boys knew you were listening. You were "asleep" in the motel room, and they were sitting at the little table by the window, chatting as they researched a case. All you managed to catch was Sam asking, "So...where's Cas?" and Dean replying, "He didn't make it out." You hoped the boys hadn't caught you crying.

Staring out of the Impala's rear window, you couldn't help but imagine Cas beside you, tentatively holding your hand like he'd learned to do in the last few months you'd spent together. You couldn't help but think of small shared moments, your favorite memories. A beer shared at a bar in some town you couldn't remember the name of, and Cas saying it "just tasted like the molecules of bread mixed with alcohol" and finishing it anyway. A game of chess in a museum while the boys worked, which you were certain he'd let you win, but he always denied it. A surprise first kiss under a streetlight, shirt covered in black blood and cleaning fluid, and Cas muttering frantically in your ear that he thought you were going to die, to never do that to him again, that he-

You shot straight up and stared, too shocked to make a sound. Just for a moment, you followed him with your eyes, and then you blinked, and he was gone, and you sank back into your seat, angrily wiping tears from your eyes.

The next morning, you were washing your face in the sink of the motel room bathroom. Staring down at your hands, you almost smiled. For a second there, you were sure the water running sounded like wings. But wishful thinking wasn't getting to you as much anymore, so you just kept on. You splashed the water over your skin one more time, to make sure you'd gotten rid of all of the soap, then, eyes closed, you raised your head and reached for a towel, and gently dried your face, humming softly to yourself. "Carry On My Wayward Son."

You opened your eyes, and the smile fell off of your face in time with the towel falling out of your hand.

"Hello (Y/N)."

You spun around and stared, open mouthed. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his skin was grimy to match. His hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in a month, and he had a full beard. But it was him, real and living and breathing and staring at you with far too much pain in the same beautiful blue eyes you given up on ever seeing again.

"Cas?" It came out as barely more than a whisper, and you finally managed to move. You reached forward, and sucked in a breath when your hand made contact with his chest. You left it there, feeling him breathe, and pulled your other up to cup his face, running a thumb across his beard. His eyes closed and he lent into your hand, letting out a pitiful little sigh. Slowly, his hands came up to cover yours. Your smile was tearstained. "Castiel. You came home."

And then you were hugging each other so tightly that neither of you could breathe, but neither of you cared, and you were crying, and you thought he might be too, or close to it, from the way he was shaking. And you laughed, so happy that you didn't care if this was just a dream, if you were about to wake up, because that'd happened before, but for right now it felt so real. One of his hands snaked into your hair at the same time one of yours found his, and your other hand was covering where you knew one of his wings extended from, making him shudder, and it was all so familiar.

"(Y/N), are you okay in there? Only there are other people that need to use the bathroom, you kn-" Sam was cut off when he pulled the unlocked bathroom door open. He let out a strangled cry of surprise, which brought Dean running, only to stop him dead in his tracks as well when he saw the two of you. Reluctantly, you let Cas go, and after a short smile exchange, he turned to the brothers.

"Hello, Dean. Sam."

"Cas." Dean was the first to go in for a hug, and after a long moment of manly back-clapping reunion, he let go, and Sam stepped in with a strangled "Good to see you, man."

You hadn't stopped crying. But you hadn't stopped smiling yet either. Cas was home. He'd come back to you.

It was only when he stepped back from Sam and looked at you all again that you noticed it. Something, in the back of his eyes, was off.

Maybe you were imagining it?

But then again, when were you ever just imagining it?