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Sweet Dreams

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          Cas never would have pegged Dean Winchester as the type of man to just… leave. He never would have guessed that Dean was someone to say things he didn’t mean, considering the amount of unfiltered devotion and impressive loyalty he showed Cas. Cas especially never thought that one simple, seemingly tiny and insignificant post-it note could cause so much devastation. So much confusion, so much betrayal.

       Yet, Cas waited and Dean still never called to say that he was okay. He never even called with so much as an explanation as to why he did what he did or where he went.

      I'm sure you never will, Cas often thought, yet he still hears the ticking of time, can feel it passing through his fingers, and with every second, Cas hopes to god that Dean will knock on his door, or bump into him at their once favorite café.

       It’s been ten months since Dean left Cas. At the point, Cas doesn’t even care if Dean came back and never explained what had happened or where he had left to. Just come back, he thinks. Just come home to me, he pleads. Cas doesn’t even know how to find Dean, he doesn’t know where to look. Dean left no clues but a small note and Cas is starting to realize that his once lover doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he just wants to be gone.

       Or maybe he’s hurt, or even worse, lying dead somewhere with no one around to know. But Cas doesn’t think about that one. Dean has to be fine, he has to be, so again, maybe he just wanted to be gone.

     Sometimes, if Cas thinks hard enough, he can remember the low rumble of Deans voice in the morning, the way his arms felt around Cas' waist. Other times he can feel the strands of Deans hair in Cas' fingers and the way Dean used to tell Cas he loved him, so much. He remembers telling Dean that, he too, loved Dean, so much.






Left with Sam for a few days. Don't worry. I love you so much, more than anything.
-Dean xo

      No matter how much time passes, no matter what kind of mood Cas is in, his eyes always find their way to the yellow sticky note on the fridge. I should take it down, Cas thinks to himself. All it does is bring him down and make him sad. Shouldn’t he be passed feeling that by now? It’s been ten months.

      “I’m gonna take that down,” he says to no one in particular. The words hang heavy in the air as he builds up courage and walks towards the fridge, the words only coming down to hit Cas once he reaches out to pull the paper off of the metallic surface.

      Take it down? What am I thinking? He thinks and his mind filters through the few things he still has of Deans. He reckons he doesn’t have much as he can only really think of some of his clothes and a few pictures Dean kept of the once happy couple. 

      No way is he taking it down, even if it has the power to put him in a sour mood because, he can’t deny that upon seeing the note, a small tingle of hope courses through his body.

      I love you so much, more than anything.

      Dean wouldn’t leave for nothing if he meant that. Cas had to believe that Dean left for an important reason, and he has to believe that one day, he’ll come back. Castiel still had faith in the man, even when the voice in his head screams out that it’s quite obvious Dean wants to be gone. He wants to stay gone.

      In a poor attempt to distract himself, Cas finishes packing his school bag before heading to his last lecture before Christmas break. However, the thought of spending the holidays alone for the first time ever and without what Cas is even now certain is the love of his life, stops Cas mid-pack to look up and out of the window of his flat.

      It has began to snow quite steadily, he notices, and Cas really wishes a certain Chevy Impala was there to drive him to school. He wiped a few loose tears that he didn’t realize were shed, and zips his backpack closed before shrugging the heavy pouch over his shoulder.

      Maybe Dean will come home in time. Maybe not.


       Halfway through his twenty minute trek to the lecture hall on campus, he not only wishes he wore more than a sweater, but also wishes he had eaten something as his stomach grumbles a cry of hunger. He brushes it off until the desire to eat something grows into a tiny pain. He decides that he at least needs some coffee, not having time to sit down and eat something. Coffee it is, he thinks.

      The only coffee joints on the way to his destination would be some crappy gas station coffee, or the smooth, delicious coffee from Deans old work. He knows which one he wants, but goes with the one he can handle.

      Crappy gas station coffee it is. And it’s a shame really, that he has to choose that coffee. Once upon a time, Cas wouldn’t have even considered anything else than Deans work. He used to look forward to seeing Dean in work mode, apron on and brows furrowed in concentration. Times have changed, he guesses. Not necessarily for the better.

      Castiel walks into the significantly warmer gas station and heads straight to the coffee machines after nodding his head in what was supposed to be a greeting to the clerk. 

     Cas waits behind some scronny man whose taking much longer to grab his coffee than it should. His eyes scan the gas station as he patiently stands in line, when his gaze lands on a tall guy whose standing infront of the beers with his back to the coffee machine.

      He bears a black winter coat, a grey hoodie and short-ish dirty blonde hair. And, no, it can't be, it just can't, but Cas can't help but stare at the tall figure who seems to be wearing clothes that look just a little bit too firmiliar.


      No, Cas thinks. It can't be. But... can't it? 

      What are the chances that Dean would be buying beer, of all things, at a place he knows Cas never usually goes to, wearing attire that could very well be Deans? Cas didn't really know if he believed in coincidences. He didn't think he did. 

      But he should've, because the guy turns around and is so not Dean which means that Castiel just wasted brain cells on his little inner monolouge and made himself very, very sad. 


1:00 P.M

      After an exhausting three hours of continuous note-taking, Cas is more than ready to head to his flat. It’s more than he can say for most days. He usually dreads going home to the empty apartment, but today he was content to just change into comfy pants and just sleep.

      So, that’s what he did.

      Cas was sitting in their living room with Deans head lying on his lap. Cas' fingers had found their way to Deans hair, as they always do, as they sat watching reruns of some HGTV show. Snow was falling quite heavily outside, which brought Dean to make the executive decision of making hot chocolate in Christmas mugs while they lazily cuddled and watched the television. Not that Cas was complaining.

      Cas felt warm and happy all over, living for days like this where both lovers would just embrace each other’s company without question. Cas cherished every second of their relationship and valued times like this.

      Dean suddenly reached for the remote that was lying on the coffee table. He muted the home improvement show and rolled over onto his back to look at Cas with full attention. His green eyes looked happy and warm as well, as if they were simply a reflection of Cas'. 

      A small smile made its way onto Deans face when his eyes met Cas'.

      “What?” Cas said softly, a soft smile also making its way into his face. Deans smiles, big or small, were always contagious.

     “What’d’ya want for Christmas?” Dean asks as he reaches behind himself to grab a hold of Cas' hand, which was still playing with Deans hair. Cas didn’t understand why Dean asked that. He already told Dean that he didn’t want anything and he meant it.

      A small smile still playing on Cas' lips, he spoke, “Seriously? I already told you, I don’t want anything. Not really.”

      “Not really?” Dean challenges, “What does 'Not Really' mean? 'Cause I’ll get you anything you want.”

      “I think you know what it means,” Cas answered, smirking slightly.

      Before Dean could respond in the reoccurring memory Cas often dreamt about, Cas was ripped from his unconscious state to an unapologetic pounding at the door.

      What the…? Who on earth is knocking at my door, Cas thinks as he checks his watch, at 9:00 at night? Soon after thinking that though, he realizes that normal college students would still be up at this hour, especially considering the circumstances of Christmas break. Still, they can’t cool it with the knocking? Not all of us are extraverted and nocturnal.

      A tired, highly unimpressed Castiel swings the door open to reveal the annoying culprit. Cas already had an idea of how he was gonna chew this person out, but the words were caught in his mouth as he saw the figure standing in his doorway. And this time he was sure he was seeing the real deal, not some freakish look-alike.