SPNFanFic: The Angel From His Nightmare [Castiel/Dean]
[The Angel From His Nightmare | Castiel/Dean | U-Rated | 298words | comment_fic prompt: the angel from my nightmare]
It was a nightmare only in the sense that it gave him what he wanted, gave him everything he desired; only to steal it all right back the moment tired eyes blinked him back into wakefulness.
With a groan, Dean buried his face into the pillow beneath him and tried desperately to grasp at- like sand siphoning through the hourglass- the last tendrils of the dream that plagued him. No more did he suffer the dreams of his damnation and weakness, no, now it was dreams of the forbidden- blasphemous desires and needs he'd rather die before admitting to in the cold light of day.
Like a voice inside his head, the angel from his nightmare called to him, arms reaching out, hands urging him forward into a masculine embrace and like a mannequin, the puppet on the string, Dean can not help but stumble forward into the angel's arms, his own voice a mantra calling out the angel’s name- "Castiel, Castiel, I miss you, I miss you,"- and the angel's smile is blinding with its brilliance and acceptance and its own desires apparent as he takes Dean to him and shows him that all love is pure and good and that he is forgiven and wanted and needed...
…and Dean groans into his pillow, fists pummelling into the sides of it as he chokes back a moan of despair a moment before lifting himself from the bed and pushing away all remembrance of the dream. Already it’s just a voice inside his head. Calling him. Wanting him. Before long it will fade to the far recesses of his mind and be forgotten. Forgotten until the next time he lays his weary head to rest and welcomes the embraces of his angel, Castiel; the angel from his nightmares.
fin.
It was a nightmare only in the sense that it gave him what he wanted, gave him everything he desired; only to steal it all right back the moment tired eyes blinked him back into wakefulness.
With a groan, Dean buried his face into the pillow beneath him and tried desperately to grasp at- like sand siphoning through the hourglass- the last tendrils of the dream that plagued him. No more did he suffer the dreams of his damnation and weakness, no, now it was dreams of the forbidden- blasphemous desires and needs he'd rather die before admitting to in the cold light of day.
Like a voice inside his head, the angel from his nightmare called to him, arms reaching out, hands urging him forward into a masculine embrace and like a mannequin, the puppet on the string, Dean can not help but stumble forward into the angel's arms, his own voice a mantra calling out the angel’s name- "Castiel, Castiel, I miss you, I miss you,"- and the angel's smile is blinding with its brilliance and acceptance and its own desires apparent as he takes Dean to him and shows him that all love is pure and good and that he is forgiven and wanted and needed...
…and Dean groans into his pillow, fists pummelling into the sides of it as he chokes back a moan of despair a moment before lifting himself from the bed and pushing away all remembrance of the dream. Already it’s just a voice inside his head. Calling him. Wanting him. Before long it will fade to the far recesses of his mind and be forgotten. Forgotten until the next time he lays his weary head to rest and welcomes the embraces of his angel, Castiel; the angel from his nightmares.
fin.