I Wonder (Do You Wonder, Too?) [dean/castiel][s/a]
Title: I Wonder (Do You Wonder, Too?)
Pairing/Character(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Before Dean even really existed, Castiel had formed a bond with him.
Warning: N/A
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 1,508
A/N: Inspired by the fact that Dean has lots of freckles. Very...spontaneously written.
Dean doesn’t remember, and Dean will never remember (he’s just not supposed to) but Castiel remembers. Castiel will always remember (he remembers everything, and he remembers it clearly), and that’s just how it’s meant to be.
Castiel remembers touching Dean’s soul and cradling it and thinking ‘This thing is precious’. He didn’t know what the future held - he wasn’t on a level on the hierarchy where he was allowed to know the future - but he knew that there was something special about this soul. He held it and he kissed it (angel kisses were similar to human kisses but without the mouths because angels didn’t really have mouths - Castiel doesn’t know a word in the human language that can explain it, and even Enochian doesn’t quite depict the scenario to the extent it’s held), kissed the pure soul that had yet to be tainted by human life. Castiel knew that he shouldn’t (Dean’s wasn’t his soul to deliver, and not all angels kissed all souls), it wasn’t his place to, but he couldn’t help it. The soul, in his arms (there wasn’t another way to describe the way he held Dean’s brilliant soul) was too beautiful not to touch, not to bless.
The angel who had delivered Dean had reprimanded Castiel for touching the soul but hadn’t bothered past that. The angel had understood the impulse and left it at that, delivering Dean to Mary Winchester, to a family that would leave him cursed.
Castiel sort of wishes, in this strange way, that he could have just kept Dean’s soul safe and never let him be taken away. He almost regrets letting him go, letting him into the dangerous world that was bound to eat him alive if he couldn’t fight properly.
Of course, Castiel didn’t know what Dean Winchester would become until almost thirty years after he left him in the arms of the other angel who had dropped him on Earth. Because yes, angels did take care of human souls before they went to live their human lives. Only certain angels - archangels had nothing to do with it, along with many of the angels with higher power or other jobs. And for a time, one of Castiel’s jobs was to hold souls and make sure they weren’t damaged (a damaged soul would be cleansed by a group of angels with exactly those powers or be left in Heaven to stay at peace and recover before being sent to Earth). He had inspected Dean’s soul carefully and it had been perfect - smooth, bright, and flawless. Castiel had had a feeling as he touched it, as he checked it for gaping wounds and dark spots, that someday this soul would be utterly tainted. That there would be no turning back for the human this would become.
When Castiel finds higher powers asking him to jump into Hell and raise a man from the pit, he’s a bit confused but willing, because this is God’s will. When he touches the soul of the man, he immediately recognizes it. He’d recognize any soul he touched but it’s strange because he feels like he already has a certain, undeniable closeness with this soul, like he did more than check it for wounds.
He fixes up the body and leaves the soul inside of it in the earth.
And suddenly it all makes sense. He sees the grown body that the soul belonged to and it clicks together. This is the soul he had kissed - he recognizes the freckles (a human saying; Angel kisses become freckles on the human body, and despite how silly it seems it is mostly true), the places they have taken on the body to match up with the soul. He will always remember that soul; without flaw, without blemish. Utterly pure.
It makes Castiel sad; an emotion he’s not really familiar with. He wishes that this soul could have remained with him when he sees what it had suffered through. Hell for forty years and now he’s supposed to end the apocalypse? Castiel believes, for a long time, in destiny and in everything being planned out beforehand, in God’s will, but still, seeing Dean - seeing what Dean has to go through - it doesn’t seem fair. Castiel doesn’t think that Dean Winchester deserves this life. It’s too much suffering for one soul, and Castiel knows that when Dean is finally sent to Heaven, in the very end, his soul will be damaged beyond belief. Castiel has seen many souls and he knows that Dean will not be put back on Earth (should he manage to stop the apocalypse, of course) for thousands of years. His soul will be allowed rest because angels do know mercy, despite Dean’s own beliefs.
But then Castiel understands that humans can make choices. That he can make choices. That he is not simply an extension of Heaven - he is a separate entity and he’s allowed to have doubts and worries and that he’s allowed to care. He admires Dean for being so strong, so pushy and full of heart even though he’s been through so much. And he sees those faded freckles - on Dean’s face and on his shoulders - and Castiel thinks he will never know, because he never will.
Of course, Dean is not always at his one hundred percent. He gets angry and frustrated and broken and he gets so close to giving up that it sends Castiel into a fit of rage. He doesn’t exactly appreciate the fact that this man is willing to toss all of the work Castiel had done for him away just because he was tired. Simply because it seemed hopeless. Hadn’t they always found a way? How many times did Castiel have to die for Dean before he realized that it was not Dean’s place to give up? It makes Castiel angrier than he’s ever been, and he can clearly remember grabbing Dean and throwing him against the brick wall and watching the blood drip from his mouth and the way his eyes had clouded. Castiel remembers all the angry words he growled at Dean, remembers Dean’s ‘Cas, please!’, the way he just wanted to - Dean truly had wanted to give up. And if Dean gave up, what was there? Castiel wasn’t sure for a while.
Castiel kisses Dean’s face gently and appreciates that he can see the way Dean reacts this time. He pulls back, but not in a way that says he doesn’t want this. It’s more of a tilt; adjusting his head and giving Castiel more space to press kisses along his neck and collar. Castiel sort of wishes he could be leaving marks along the bare skin, the clean skin with few scars, just like he had that first time in Heaven, but he knows he can’t. Could - won’t. He just touches Dean; gives him the comfort that he needs that accompanies a human body. Castiel is, to an extent, glad that when Raphael had killed him in Chuck’s apartment, that Jimmy and he had been separated (Jimmy is now resting in Heaven, peaceful), because it would be too strange to share this body with Jimmy after - after letting Dean have his happiness.
The freckles on Dean’s face are faded. But they’re still there.
Dean holds Castiel’s face in his hands and kisses Cas’ eyelid. “Cas,” he murmurs, and Castiel smiles because Dean was the first person to call him that. Somehow it had spread - Anna had picked up on it, Uriel had used it mockingly, Sam had caught on, Balthazar used it (and ‘Cassie’, which neither Dean nor Cas were very pleased with; Castiel is pretty sure it’s just too close to a woman Dean had been close with when he was younger) - and Castiel simply became ‘Cas’. It was easy, and Castiel liked that ease.
“Do you trust me?” Castiel finds himself asking, fingers gliding down Dean’s chest. Dean looks confused and hesitates from where he had been about to kiss Cas’ mouth.
“I…” he starts and Castiel smiles sadly and then averts his eyes when Dean can’t answer automatically. Dean then licks his lips and moves his hand to push Cas’ chin up so that their eyes meet again. “I do.”
Castiel hates that he doesn’t believe him. “Hm,” he hums and curls his fingers in Dean’s button-down, leaning up to kiss him again. Dean pulls back, annoyed.
“You don’t believe me,” he growls and Castiel gives that sad smile again.
“I can’t lie to you, Dean Winchester,” he murmurs, kissing his jaw. Dean pulls back.
“And I can’t lie to you,” Dean says, and his voice is still angry. Castiel sinks back and stares at Dean with wondering eyes. “I trust you. More than anyone. You have never let me down.”
“I haven’t?” Castiel asks softly, swiping his thumb over Dean’s temple. “How interesting.”
“Shut up,” Dean growls and he buries his face into Cas’ neck. “Just be quiet.”
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean and lets him stay like that. It’s the least he can do.
Pairing/Character(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: Before Dean even really existed, Castiel had formed a bond with him.
Warning: N/A
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 1,508
A/N: Inspired by the fact that Dean has lots of freckles. Very...spontaneously written.
Dean doesn’t remember, and Dean will never remember (he’s just not supposed to) but Castiel remembers. Castiel will always remember (he remembers everything, and he remembers it clearly), and that’s just how it’s meant to be.
Castiel remembers touching Dean’s soul and cradling it and thinking ‘This thing is precious’. He didn’t know what the future held - he wasn’t on a level on the hierarchy where he was allowed to know the future - but he knew that there was something special about this soul. He held it and he kissed it (angel kisses were similar to human kisses but without the mouths because angels didn’t really have mouths - Castiel doesn’t know a word in the human language that can explain it, and even Enochian doesn’t quite depict the scenario to the extent it’s held), kissed the pure soul that had yet to be tainted by human life. Castiel knew that he shouldn’t (Dean’s wasn’t his soul to deliver, and not all angels kissed all souls), it wasn’t his place to, but he couldn’t help it. The soul, in his arms (there wasn’t another way to describe the way he held Dean’s brilliant soul) was too beautiful not to touch, not to bless.
The angel who had delivered Dean had reprimanded Castiel for touching the soul but hadn’t bothered past that. The angel had understood the impulse and left it at that, delivering Dean to Mary Winchester, to a family that would leave him cursed.
Castiel sort of wishes, in this strange way, that he could have just kept Dean’s soul safe and never let him be taken away. He almost regrets letting him go, letting him into the dangerous world that was bound to eat him alive if he couldn’t fight properly.
Of course, Castiel didn’t know what Dean Winchester would become until almost thirty years after he left him in the arms of the other angel who had dropped him on Earth. Because yes, angels did take care of human souls before they went to live their human lives. Only certain angels - archangels had nothing to do with it, along with many of the angels with higher power or other jobs. And for a time, one of Castiel’s jobs was to hold souls and make sure they weren’t damaged (a damaged soul would be cleansed by a group of angels with exactly those powers or be left in Heaven to stay at peace and recover before being sent to Earth). He had inspected Dean’s soul carefully and it had been perfect - smooth, bright, and flawless. Castiel had had a feeling as he touched it, as he checked it for gaping wounds and dark spots, that someday this soul would be utterly tainted. That there would be no turning back for the human this would become.
When Castiel finds higher powers asking him to jump into Hell and raise a man from the pit, he’s a bit confused but willing, because this is God’s will. When he touches the soul of the man, he immediately recognizes it. He’d recognize any soul he touched but it’s strange because he feels like he already has a certain, undeniable closeness with this soul, like he did more than check it for wounds.
He fixes up the body and leaves the soul inside of it in the earth.
And suddenly it all makes sense. He sees the grown body that the soul belonged to and it clicks together. This is the soul he had kissed - he recognizes the freckles (a human saying; Angel kisses become freckles on the human body, and despite how silly it seems it is mostly true), the places they have taken on the body to match up with the soul. He will always remember that soul; without flaw, without blemish. Utterly pure.
It makes Castiel sad; an emotion he’s not really familiar with. He wishes that this soul could have remained with him when he sees what it had suffered through. Hell for forty years and now he’s supposed to end the apocalypse? Castiel believes, for a long time, in destiny and in everything being planned out beforehand, in God’s will, but still, seeing Dean - seeing what Dean has to go through - it doesn’t seem fair. Castiel doesn’t think that Dean Winchester deserves this life. It’s too much suffering for one soul, and Castiel knows that when Dean is finally sent to Heaven, in the very end, his soul will be damaged beyond belief. Castiel has seen many souls and he knows that Dean will not be put back on Earth (should he manage to stop the apocalypse, of course) for thousands of years. His soul will be allowed rest because angels do know mercy, despite Dean’s own beliefs.
But then Castiel understands that humans can make choices. That he can make choices. That he is not simply an extension of Heaven - he is a separate entity and he’s allowed to have doubts and worries and that he’s allowed to care. He admires Dean for being so strong, so pushy and full of heart even though he’s been through so much. And he sees those faded freckles - on Dean’s face and on his shoulders - and Castiel thinks he will never know, because he never will.
Of course, Dean is not always at his one hundred percent. He gets angry and frustrated and broken and he gets so close to giving up that it sends Castiel into a fit of rage. He doesn’t exactly appreciate the fact that this man is willing to toss all of the work Castiel had done for him away just because he was tired. Simply because it seemed hopeless. Hadn’t they always found a way? How many times did Castiel have to die for Dean before he realized that it was not Dean’s place to give up? It makes Castiel angrier than he’s ever been, and he can clearly remember grabbing Dean and throwing him against the brick wall and watching the blood drip from his mouth and the way his eyes had clouded. Castiel remembers all the angry words he growled at Dean, remembers Dean’s ‘Cas, please!’, the way he just wanted to - Dean truly had wanted to give up. And if Dean gave up, what was there? Castiel wasn’t sure for a while.
Castiel kisses Dean’s face gently and appreciates that he can see the way Dean reacts this time. He pulls back, but not in a way that says he doesn’t want this. It’s more of a tilt; adjusting his head and giving Castiel more space to press kisses along his neck and collar. Castiel sort of wishes he could be leaving marks along the bare skin, the clean skin with few scars, just like he had that first time in Heaven, but he knows he can’t. Could - won’t. He just touches Dean; gives him the comfort that he needs that accompanies a human body. Castiel is, to an extent, glad that when Raphael had killed him in Chuck’s apartment, that Jimmy and he had been separated (Jimmy is now resting in Heaven, peaceful), because it would be too strange to share this body with Jimmy after - after letting Dean have his happiness.
The freckles on Dean’s face are faded. But they’re still there.
Dean holds Castiel’s face in his hands and kisses Cas’ eyelid. “Cas,” he murmurs, and Castiel smiles because Dean was the first person to call him that. Somehow it had spread - Anna had picked up on it, Uriel had used it mockingly, Sam had caught on, Balthazar used it (and ‘Cassie’, which neither Dean nor Cas were very pleased with; Castiel is pretty sure it’s just too close to a woman Dean had been close with when he was younger) - and Castiel simply became ‘Cas’. It was easy, and Castiel liked that ease.
“Do you trust me?” Castiel finds himself asking, fingers gliding down Dean’s chest. Dean looks confused and hesitates from where he had been about to kiss Cas’ mouth.
“I…” he starts and Castiel smiles sadly and then averts his eyes when Dean can’t answer automatically. Dean then licks his lips and moves his hand to push Cas’ chin up so that their eyes meet again. “I do.”
Castiel hates that he doesn’t believe him. “Hm,” he hums and curls his fingers in Dean’s button-down, leaning up to kiss him again. Dean pulls back, annoyed.
“You don’t believe me,” he growls and Castiel gives that sad smile again.
“I can’t lie to you, Dean Winchester,” he murmurs, kissing his jaw. Dean pulls back.
“And I can’t lie to you,” Dean says, and his voice is still angry. Castiel sinks back and stares at Dean with wondering eyes. “I trust you. More than anyone. You have never let me down.”
“I haven’t?” Castiel asks softly, swiping his thumb over Dean’s temple. “How interesting.”
“Shut up,” Dean growls and he buries his face into Cas’ neck. “Just be quiet.”
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean and lets him stay like that. It’s the least he can do.