ialwayscomewhenyoucall:

• a 13×18 coda

The feather rests in his palm, insubstantial, black as night and ragged on the edges. Several barbs are missing, like on so many of his feathers these days. (Those few feathers that remain.) He runs his finger along the quill, feeling angelic melodies reverberate throughout his vessel. The music hasn’t faded, he thinks, unable to look away. At least I’ve still got that much.

He knows he should be thinking of other things. More important things. And he is–he’s thinking of Dean, and what he can do to fix things between them. When Dean said he shouldn’t have come back… In some ways, things have been easier since he came back from the Empty, but in others…in others, they just keep…missing. It’s a human puzzle, he knows, but he’s determined to find a way to solve it. The more immediate problem, of course, is finding Gabriel so they can open a rift and save Jack and Mary and Charlie. Maybe even Ketch, although he won’t be too troubled if that goes awry. Because saving his family, that’s what Dean wants, and that will heal something between them. It has to.

But part of Cas’s essence–most of it, if he’s honest–is fixated on this feather.

Gabriel has wings.

Not broken, useless wings. Gabriel can fly.

No. Flying is exhilarating, but this isn’t about flight. Not really. Cas has grown accustomed to more human forms of travel. It was the glory of those wings, the wholeness. When he saw Gabriel’s wings unfurl, Cas felt a stab of jealousy so visceral he had to brush a hand across his abdomen to make sure he wasn’t actually bleeding. It pained him to see, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his brother. Remembering when Gabriel looked down on Asmodeus, flashing both his grace and his fury, Cas thinks, Was I ever so grand? Or so proud? Did I ever inspire such awe?

A tiny voice in his mind answeres, Dean always sees the angel in you.

****

Walking past the kitchen Sam spies Cas slumped at the table, chin tucked to his chest. Cas’s back is to the door, and when Sam stops in the doorway neither of them react.

He looks tired, Sam thinks. I know he doesn’t sleep, but he needs something.  He carries too much. He blames himself for everything, and then Dean piles on…

He lets his thoughts trail off, not wanting to follow where they lead.

Leaving Cas alone in the kitchen–he doesn’t really feel like talking just now–Sam makes his way to the library. When in doubt, read a book, right?

He’s turned six pages without actually seeing a single word when he pushes the book away in frustration. Dean had been right, of course. They should have found a way to save some of the grace, just in case. But apparently they’d thought the rift would open up ten feet away from Mary and Jack and Dean would just pull them through, welcome to the happy ending. They’d never even considered multiple visits.

Sam stands, the words he’d spoken to Gabriel just hours earlier echoing in his head. No matter how many times I try to fight it, this is what I was put here to do. This is where I make the world a better place…

He’s got to do something.

He’s not going to find Gabriel in a book.

****

Dean crashes through his bedroom door and slams it shut behind him. He’s shaking, and he’s not sure if it’s rage or frustration or fear or just the after effects of a very intense day. He can’t get a grasp on the thoughts and emotions running through his head. He knows Charlie–his Charlie–is gone but he saw her today. He hates Ketch, but Ketch had his back today, even saved his life. Mom and Jack are just out of his grasp, and instead of comforting them he lashed out, blaming the two people he cares about most in the world.

And on top of all that, his shoulder hurts.

Cas could probably fix the shoulder problem, at least. But he had seen the pain in those blue eyes. That…that hurts worse than his shoulder.

“Doesn’t he get it?” Dean sinks onto the bed, scrubs at his hair in frustration. He takes a breath, trying to steady himself. After a few minutes of stillness, he speaks into the silence, his voice resolved.

“I just can’t…I won’t let him die again.”

****

Cas knows he is broken; the tattered feather in his hand is just the visible proof of something he’s felt for a long time. There’s probably no way to heal his wings, but he can maybe, eventually, fix the rest. And maybe…

…Maybe he doesn’t need the wings anymore.

(Dean always sees the angel in you.)

He pushes back from the table, chair clattering across the kitchen floor. A few minutes later, when he finds himself standing in front of Dean’s door, he hesitates. He knows Dean isn’t ready to talk yet, and he isn’t really either. But the time will come.

When Cas walks away, waiting on the floor by Dean’s bedroom door, rests a small, black feather.

* * * * * * * * *

Author’s note: I was thinking of this 12×23 coda I wrote when I wrote this. It’s maybe a companion piece? But it certainly works just fine on its own.

@bend-me-shape-me ..as always, thanks for letting me talk things out with you!! 🙂