"Comfortable Silence" - a Supernatural fanfic
Rating: PG
Word Count: 975
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, established
Summary: As the angels leave him, Castiel feels the pain of losing his Grace and his wings while Dean does his best to comfort his friend.
On the day the angels left, Castiel waited silently as Their voices slowly retreated until the only sound left in his head was the sound of his own loneliness and grief. He didn’t talk for two more days.
Dean didn’t force him to. Instead, everyday, right before they went to sleep, Dean would sit with Cas on their bed, rubbing soft circles into Castiel’s back while talking softly about memories of his childhood, all the good parts and the bad. He talked until his voice was sore and Cas was fast asleep, dried tears on his cheeks. Dean never expected his friend to respond nor did he try to comfort Cas in any other way, and Cas will always be grateful for that.
The rest of the changes came slowly but drastically. Castiel started to need more sleep or simply craved more human touch. Dean was happy to accommodate, to try his best at helping the poor guy as Castiel lost more and more of his Grace, his identity, with each passing day.
The last change effected Castiel the most; the day he lost his wings.
There wasn’t some fanfare or large indication, at least, not to other people. But Dean was not other people; he instantly knew something was wrong when he woke up to a cold, Cas-less bed. He had been dreading this day for weeks now, remembering how fondly Cas had always spoke of flying and how much Dean himself was fascinated by the concept of large, feathery wings sprouting from Castiel’s back, the only angelic thing he never got the chance to see.
Dean found Castiel outside, sitting on the front porch steps and staring blankly at the dusty road their house sat on. They had purchased the house on a whim, a small “we survived the apocalypse” victory gift for themselves. Although it had definitely needed repairs, and still does, it was Castiel’s winning smile at the beauty of the surrounding landscape that made the purchase all the more worthwhile, even if it meant Dean will spend hours on end working on making the house livable and fit to last a lifetime.
On the porch, Dean silently sat next to Cas, noticing the slight shivers and goosebumps on Cas's exposed skin. Dean draped an arm around his old friend, bringing their bodies closer together, and letting their combined body heat combat the morning chill. As Dean did this, Cas sighed, a sad but relaxed sigh, and laid his head on Dean’s shoulder.
They sat like this for a few moments, completely in silence, as the sun began to peek out from the horizon.
“It’s gone,” Castiel stated after a while, his voice quiet and defeated.
Dean nodded once, unsure of what to say. Instead, he began smoothing down Cas’s ruffled hair, stroking the soft tufts. He knew that Cas needed this moment, this last moment, to finally accept his new, human life.
Castiel was still silent, and Dean understood that it took time for Cas to come to terms with losing his angelic identity. But the morning was colder than Dean had expected and he failed to bring some sort of blanket, so now his feet are slowly freezing. He could see white wisps escape their mouths as they breathed: in, out, in, out.
“Are you okay?” Dean asked tentatively, trying his best not to pry too deep and drive Castiel, his Cas, away.
Castiel simply shook his head, burying it deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck and shoulder.
Dean sighed, “Do you regret it?”
Castiel shook his head again; Dean could feel Cas smiling against his neck. “Never,” Cas whispered.
Dean nodded once again, satisfied. He held Cas closer, a sign of mutual understanding. Dean knew that Cas was fully aware of the terms of his final decision to stay on Earth as his brethren left him, the loss of his angelic powers, his Grace. Of course, Dean couldn’t predict just how devastated Cas would become when this finally happened, but Dean had swore to himself that he would do what ever it took to help Cas through it. After all, they were a team, and Dean knew better than to leave his mate behind in the cold reality of loss and grief.
“They were beautiful,” Cas suddenly murmured as he straightened up so he could see Dean’s face.
Dean gazed down at Castiel’s blue eyes, marveling at the swirling colours within. It always looked like the eyes sparkled with unknown power and age, reminding Dean of how old his angel, ex-angel, was.
“Tell me about them,” Dean asked.
“They were large, a very considerable size that could rival the tallest skyscrapers,” recalled Castiel, a fond smile on his lips. “Depending on how the light caught it, they would shimmer with gold or silver flecks, even though the feathers themselves were dark grey, slightly blemished from my trips to Hell.”
Castiel paused, staring at Dean. Dean could tell that Cas was remembering how they met, how he raised Dean from Perdition and pieced his body together carefully, almost lovingly.
“The feathers themselves were soft,” Cas continued. “Softer and smoother than any sort of cloth or fabric in the human world.” Cas sighed, “I wish you could have seen them.”
Dean smiled, “I do too, but I’d rather you’d sit pretty here than be stuck up there where I can’t follow. At least, for a long time.”
Cas nodded, “I prefer it this way.”
“So, are you okay now?” Dean asked, the cold of the early morning not bothering him anymore.
Cas nodded, looking away from Dean as he watched the sun’s rays seeping into the world, golden light dancing across the road.
They didn’t speak after that, dwelling in their comfortable silence as the sun warmed their bodies, the promises of a bright future tying them closer together.