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Of Water And Trenchcoats / Destiel

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That bloody child! He got himself killed. Again! Which was it? The third time?

Dean sighed, looking at his best friend's trench coat folded neatly on the hunter's bed. Still damp. Why didn't he tell them? Why was he so fucking stubborn and did everything on his own? Why did he lie? And why Dean couldn't just hate him for what he did? The man sat heavily on the bed. That damn angel.

I'll find a way to redeem myself to you.

Well, now you can't, 'cause you're fucking dead! Dean took a big slug of whiskey. If he were alive, Dean would be pissed on him. But he wasn't and Dean… couldn’t. He was just full of regret. And a bit disappointed. That he didn't see through Cas's lies. That he didn't know how to help. That he was living an apple pie life for a whole year, while Cas was fighting a war. What desperation led him to working with Crowley? What happened that changed the righteous and faithful child of God into... this? Now he will never get to ask. He retreated into his memories.

Cas standing in the holy fire. Please, trust me.

In the warehouse. You said we were like family. I believe in that too.

These true words, only now he fully got them. And despite your lack of faith in me, and now your threats, I just saved you, yet again.

Of course. Because your problems always come first. He saw it now.

Fighting Fate. [Maybe you need new friends.] I’m trying to save the ones I have!

I always come when you call and I am your friend. He did and he was.

I hunted, I rebelled. And I did this, all of it, for you. Dean never even thought about it.

I'm sorry, Dean. I’m sorry too, Cas.

I have no family. You had, Cas, you had. They never really showed it, though.

You stabbed me in the back!  Dean was so scared then. The angel blade in the angel’s stomach. Panic coursed through his veins. “No, he can’t.” was playing on repeat in his head. And then, things turned out even worse.

Dean took another gulp and put his head in his hands. Maybe, in a way, it was their fault. They always took Cas for granted, always expecting him to come when they called. Never even stopping to think about the angel, because, after all, angels don’t have feelings, don’t they? Only “Cas do this, Cas zap us there, Cas we nearly died, where the hell have you been? Cas, what do you know about that demon, Cas fix Sam! Cas, get your ass down here! You’re just a baby without your powers! What do you mean, you lost your mojo?” but never “Cas, how’s the war? Cas, let us help, Cas, how are you? You’re a good friend, Cas.”. Fuck, he was one of the closest people to them, he always helped them and saved their sorry asses, but they never even told him that he was a good friend. Not before it was too late. And now he would never hear it. And Dean will never have the opportunity to tell him. He would never again see the dumb tax accountant suit. Never again those blue eyes, that sometimes lit up in happiness or narrowed in anger. Never again this messy hair. Never again this confused tilt of the head, when he didn’t understand a reference. Never again he would have this sureness in the back of his mind, that no matter how much he fucks up, Cas will be there to save his ass. Never. Only a dirty trenchcoat and nightmares haunting him every night.