Destiel One Shots

Stars

"I don't understand," Cas stated in his gravelly voice for what Dean assumed to be the hundred-millionth time, "Why did it hurt so damn much? Why? Why? Why?" At this point, the angel was just muttering to himself.

Sam was on a supply run while Dean and Cas sat in the bunker waiting for Moose to return with lunch. Well, Dean was waiting for pie while Cas was waiting for his favorite human to be appeased with aforementioned pie.

"Dude!" Dean snapped in order to get the trench-coated seraph's attention, "Do you wanna talk about it or just mope?"

"My apologies Dean. I did not realize I was being vexatious to you. I shall cease to be a pest." Castiel fell silent, much to the hunter's disdain.

"No, buddy, it's fine. I just figured there was something eating at you and you might want to talk about it. Ya know, get it off your chest. You aren't bothering me."

"It's just -" he faltered, "when Metatron killed you," Cas' voice began to tremble ever so slightly, "it hurt. Don't get me wrong, I knew it was going to - as you normally put it 'hurt like a bitch', but it was so much worse. It felt like it did when Metatron cast the angels out of Heaven. It felt like when that reaper tortured me with my own blade. It was similar to when Lucifer, with a snap of his fingers, ripped me apart on a subatomic level. It felt like the guilt I felt in Purgatory, when I continually put you in danger just by being near you." The once bold and seemingly invincible Castiel sounded vulnerable as his deep, rough voice dropped to a whisper. "It felt like when I charged into Hell to rescue you and my wings were scorched and tattered, when my grace and your soul were united and I felt every single wound they inflicted upon you, every slice, every burn, all of it."

"Cas," Dean sounded almost like he was being strangled, "you never told me about that. About Hell."

"And why would I? You would only blame yourself. I did what had to be done. You know that." The defeated soldier's voice sounded so pathetic, so hopeless.

"Cas, why would you feel pain that strongly for me? I mean, this definitely isn't the first time I've died. If we're being honest, that count is somewhere in the low hundreds. Besides, I don't deserve to be missed. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. In all honesty, I didn't think anyone would be affected that frickin' strongly. I mean, the Mark of Cain was turning me into a damn monster. I deserved to die. I'm so sorry Cas."

"Dean," Cas interjected, "shut up! We always come to this. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that you deserve to die. You refuse to forgive yourself for things that aren't even your fault! No one hates you more than you -"

"Damn straight."

"And it has to stop. Can't you see how much you mean to Sam and I? How important you are?"

"Come on man, I'm just one human amongst what, seven billion? I don't matter. You know, there are probably as many souls in the universe as there are stars in the night sky. Countless amounts. Can't you see Cas, I'm just another meaningless star."

"See that's where you're wrong Dean. You were never just a star to me," Castiel's voice rose and then cracked, "you were my whole damn sky!" With those words, the Men of Letters' bunker fell silent, apart from the low hum of electricity. The hunter and the angel sat staring at each other for what seemed like hours in absolute silence. The tension was thick enough that Castiel could have used the angel blade tucked in his sleeve to slice it. Jaws set, bright blue eyes stared dead straight into candy-apple green ones.

"Hey guys, what'd I miss?" Sam asked cheerily.