© IN

When Castiel fell, he didn’t tell Dean.

The first time he felt pain, he hid it from the hunter and pretended nothing had happened. He kept on fighting and at the end of the day, when Dean was fast asleep, he licked his wounds all alone outside the cabin where Dean was sleeping.

After a couple of days, Chuck asked him why his beard had grown and he couldn’t answer under the weight of Dean’s wary stare. He was dragged outside and just looked at for what felt like five never ending minutes. Then Dean’s expression changed, hurt, he turned away and got back inside.

Castiel didn’t move.

Since that day, he stopped wearing the tan trenchcoat. Dean just knows he found it on his bed.

Being human felt like suddenly needing glasses to see. Nothing was as brilliant as before, but the biggest regret was not being able to see Dean’s soul anymore. All that was left, behind his eyes, was like the trace of a bright light and looking in the dark after staring at the sun for too long.

It was dark, and it was cold.

For some weeks, nobody asked him anything anymore. It was like he had been their only hope and now he wasn’t useful anymore. The worst part was that Dean acted just the same.

The first time he got drunk, he got wasted. Surprisingly, it had been with Chuck and not with Dean. The prophet, who spent most of his time by himself, had invited him to drink in his cabin one night, and that was exactly what they did. They drank all kinds of liquor, nothing of the good kind, just bad, cheap alcohol to get through another night. Not even a couple glasses in and Castiel felt like throwing his guts out his mouth. When Dean found him the next day, he was furious.

Drugs came a little longer to discover. At first it was a joint. It was enough to lure him in. It felt like he could see everything again, and everytime he tried something new it got better, brighter, crazier.

When Dean, the old one, the one Castiel had fallen for asked him “How did it happen? How did you two get together?” Castiel had laughed, because contrary to everyone’s belief, Castiel falling only meant that Dean didn’t need him anymore.

The night before they tried killing Lucifer, his Dean had come into his cabin, looked at him with hope and trust as he hadn’t done in a long time.

“I wish you had told me.” was all he said. They kissed and lied together and when the sky started clearing outside, and the sun started shining Castiel thought it was unfair for there to be such a nice weather on such an unfortunate day.

“I’m so sorry Cas, I’m so sorry.” Dean just cried into his shoulder, and hid his face.

“I know Dean, I chose to die for you a long time ago.”

That day, Castiel knew he was waking up for the last time.

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