do you ever just stop to think about lucifer
and how he was in the pit for millennia
scheming and plotting every single tiny detail of his rise to power
thinking through everything that could possibly go wrong, and creating hundreds of backup plans for each scenario
and the one thing that he didn’t plan for
the one thing that was his downfall
was sam winchester loving his brother more than anything in the entire universe
do you ever just think about that
When Cas falls, he returns to Sam and Dean, a bus ticket in his hands.
He’s dirty, he’s disheveled, he smells.
When he knocks hard on the bunker’s metal gates, it bruises his knuckles, and the speckled patch of color doesn’t disappear. Dean answers the door and, as per usual, looks at him with eyes shining with withheld bitterness and draws in a singular deep breath.
“Can I please stay here?” Cas asks (begs).
Dean sighs and lets him in.
Only if you promise to never leave.
* * *
When Cas falls, Dean finds him standing in the middle of his room every single morning, a look of rapt concentration in his eyes. He clenches and unclenches his fist in a pattern, lips pressed tight before he lets go, tension released, shoulders slumping in defeat.
He tries to jump, swivel around, swing himself in a multitude of ways.
It is only on the fifth morning that Dean realizes Cas is trying to fly.
(I’m sorry, baby bird.)
* * *
When Cas falls, he reaches out to Dean in a haze of confusion, two fingers held together, ring and pinky fingers tucked neatly underneath his thumb. It’s a slow incline up Dean’s features; fingertips gently ghosting over lips and nose and eyes before it gently presses against the skin of his forehead.
Cas smiles bitterly.
* * *
I’m sorry, I’m sorry—he repeats, over and over again, like a child begging for forgiveness—I’m sorry—
“Cas, stop, it’s okay,” Dean urges as he brings himself to his knees, hands cradling Cas, who has stumbled onto the floor, curled up protectively against the wall.
“I’m sorry, I tried Dean,” Cas breathlessly sputters beneath his hands, “I tried, to heal—please—”
“Dammit, it’s okay,” Dean growls now, dipping down to meet Cas’ eyes, “I can bandage myself up just fine—”
“Please let me stay,”
Dean feels his foundations crumble beneath his feet.
I’m useless but—“Please let me stay,”
Dean chokes down his words.
He holds Cas tighter instead.
* * *
When Cas falls, it takes weeks to get him right again.
“So you’re okay now?” Dean asks slowly, his tone cautious, “No more mental breakdowns?”
“Yes.” Cas answers, chin tucked against his chest in sheepish embarrassment, “I apologize for the trouble.”
Dean waves his hand dismissively. “Forget about it.”
“Maybe it’s for the better.” Cas says thoughtfully, and Dean curiously looks up from his lunch.
“You think being human is good?” Dean repeats, as if no statement has ever been more wrong.
“Yes, because now—” I can grow old with you.
Dean looks at him expectantly. “What? Because now what?”
Cas smiles, shaking his head.
“Forget about it.”
hi this is what Cas looked like when he was about to be killed
and this is what he looked like when he got saved