I guess you gave me hope (Destiel)

Chapter 10

So this story is coming to an end!! :( (Not yet there's probably about three chapters left.)

It just came to a natural end for me so...

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This chapter is dedicated to Cynthia- I apologise for wrecking all your hipster posts on instagram with my fangirl comments ;)

Cas felt his gut wrench as he was pulled from the warmth of Dean’s bed and his eyes shot open. He was in a white room that he knew too well. This was a holding cell for rebels and traitors. Castiel felt his hands go clammy and he wiped his palms on his t-shirt. Here he was sitting in a holding cell in heaven, probably being held as a traitor, and he was wearing a t-shirt and boxers.

“If Dean was here with me we’d laugh about it” Cas smiled at the thought but his smile fell because Dean wasn’t here. He was all alone against heaven and that was not a good position to stand. He felt fear wash over him and he slumped in a corner of the room waiting for somebody to enter, preferably not Michael.

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Dean shot out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He ran to his closet and pulled out his gun.

Flashback

 

“Take this gun Dean. If anything happens shoot first ask questions later.”

“But dad-“

“No Dean. Sammy is your responsibility now. His safety before everything.”

Dean nodded and accepted the gun. John closed the door and Dean heard the engine of the impala burst into life and then fade as it drove into the distance.

Dean ran to his room and threw the gun in the bottom of his closet, disgusted that he had held something so evil.

 

Dean hated that gun but he still took it every time they moved just in case and now he found himself throwing it in his bag along with the ammo John had given him. He hoped to god that he wouldn’t have to use it but he had no idea what to expect.

Dean ran outside to where his car was parked and went to look for the only person he knew who could and would help him.

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Cas heard the many locks on the door start to open and he struggled to his feet.

“I hate to say I told you so Castiel.” Michael’s sickly sweet voice drifted around the door before Cas could see him.

“Why are you doing this?” Cas’ voice was small but filled with bitterness and hatred. He was tired and weak but if he had to fight Michael he would, even if it killed him.

“I am merely here to talk to you and give you a pair of trousers.” Michael walked into the room and threw a pair of trousers at Castiel’s feet. Cas put them on and leaned against the wall.