[ The voice message is unnecessary, considering Castiel can hear Dean's thoughts when they're directed at him. ...Also, considering Castiel has been doing little else these past two weeks than following Dean around, lurking invisibly in corners in a way Dean would very much not approve of, which is why he isn't allowed to know.
It's that much more startling when Dean's voice is suddenly directed at him, and Castiel perks up to listen and to watch as Dean lays a bracelet on the covers of the bed he used to sleep in. The guilt Castiel feels in that moment is thick and choking. It's an emotion he isn't supposed to feel, given angels aren't meant to feel anything.
Castiel crosses his arms, watches Dean leave the room and, for once, doesn't follow him. He stares at the bracelet and thinks about how pointless this all is. Dean isn't recovering; he isn't bouncing back to his sarcastic but vibrant former self. And while Castiel is used to suppressing feelings he knows are inappropriate, he isn't used to being the cause of Dean's suffering.
It's a vile feeling, Castiel thinks as he steps out of a neighboring plane of existence and into the room, wings settling across the divide. He scoops up the bracelet, which looks delicate and lovely between his fingers. He remembers the bracelet he buried, and the red and green flower that bloomed from it, now wilted alongside of Deans. He remembers the way he laughed in this room as his arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders, and how Dean smiled, and whether seeing that smile is worth sacrificing Sam's soul, and control of Heaven and all of their home universe, a short distance from this one.
Of course it is. It always has been. Chest tight, Cas slides the bracelet onto his wrist and hurries across the room, pulls open the door, and follows the path Dean took down the hallway with urgent steps. ]
> action
It's that much more startling when Dean's voice is suddenly directed at him, and Castiel perks up to listen and to watch as Dean lays a bracelet on the covers of the bed he used to sleep in. The guilt Castiel feels in that moment is thick and choking. It's an emotion he isn't supposed to feel, given angels aren't meant to feel anything.
Castiel crosses his arms, watches Dean leave the room and, for once, doesn't follow him. He stares at the bracelet and thinks about how pointless this all is. Dean isn't recovering; he isn't bouncing back to his sarcastic but vibrant former self. And while Castiel is used to suppressing feelings he knows are inappropriate, he isn't used to being the cause of Dean's suffering.
It's a vile feeling, Castiel thinks as he steps out of a neighboring plane of existence and into the room, wings settling across the divide. He scoops up the bracelet, which looks delicate and lovely between his fingers. He remembers the bracelet he buried, and the red and green flower that bloomed from it, now wilted alongside of Deans. He remembers the way he laughed in this room as his arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders, and how Dean smiled, and whether seeing that smile is worth sacrificing Sam's soul, and control of Heaven and all of their home universe, a short distance from this one.
Of course it is. It always has been. Chest tight, Cas slides the bracelet onto his wrist and hurries across the room, pulls open the door, and follows the path Dean took down the hallway with urgent steps. ]
Dean?