The Last Spark

Chapter 3

Intrusive pain in his right arm made Castiel open his eyes. It was not easy, as if the weight of his eyelids had suddenly increased, resisting his will.
Yawning, he checked the tightness of the bandage and rubbed his eyes. Cas couldn't feel it for a long time: those first minutes after waking up, when everything seems to be moving around a little faster than it really is. It's a slight dizziness, which for a second makes Castiel wonder if waking up at such a late hour affected him this way, or it was the room really starting to circle around him. He exhaled deeply, trying to wake up completely when he realized that he had absolutely no idea how he got here. This corner room with a dimly lit pair of lamps has always been considered Dean's refuge, the very place where he locked himself in on his days off watching the same movies over and over again. In here it has always smelled of various snacks and a subtle hint of beer, but now the smell is completely gone, Dean has not been here for a long time. Memories gradually began to return to him: mugs of hot tea trying to burn his skin through the surface of the ceramics, Dean wrapped in a blanket from head to toe, pressing against the opposite edge of the sofa, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, the plot of the film itself, all Cas's thoughts and... The weight of Dean's head on his shoulder, his slightly open mouth, a few messy hair locks on his forehead, and then the soft hesitant touch. The kiss.

Castiel kissed him. Cas felt a slight pressure in his chest, a strange sensation that has been affecting him since his battle with the witches. He wanted to put his hand on his chest, to try to tone that feeling down, but instead, his hand reached out to his own lips. He gently pressed his index finger to his lower lip and traced it from the left corner of his lips to the right, trying to feel at least any sign of Dean. Something had to remain, had to give in to the touch, but there was nothing left of Dean's pressure, just a couple of memories in Cas' mind. The angel lowered his hand and gently squeezed the blanket, soft villi enveloping his arm in a soft hug, which made Castiel feel calmer. He ran his hand over the surface of the blanket, stroking it like a pet asking for affection. It was so gentle and pliable, squeezing under his fingers, taking their shape. It was gray, not too different from the shade of the kitchen walls, if only a couple of tones.

His fingers obstructed the light of the desk lamp, which made the blanket darken slightly under his touch, in the shadows of his fingers. Castiel didn't want to leave, just sitting here wrapped in something so warm and soft made him feel good, comfortable and relaxed, but still there was a feeling that something was missing. Something very important, without which everything else seemed incomplete, insufficient. Cas went around the room, trying to find what was missing, until he realized.

Dean. There is no Dean.

He pushed the blanket to his feet, and only crumpled it up, without folding it, immediately stood up. His sight darkened slightly, forcing him to quickly lean on the couch until the world acquired colors again. His head ached slightly, and his back was likely numb during sleep, which made an uncomfortable tingling sensation run down his spine. He gripped the armrest and, taking a deep breath, finally got to his feet. The world shook a little more, but Cas went further.

With leisurely steps, he went to the kitchen. Expecting to see Dean there, Cas opened his mouth, preparing to say hello, but noticing that everything remained intact, the same as it was yesterday, he stopped. The chairs were in the same position, fully pushed under the table, a couple of beer bottles by the sink, dirty plates casually stacked on top of each other. Cas went up to the coffee machine. He took out a glass jug, it was perfectly transparent, almost without any spots inside, slightly shining from the light in the corridor.

"Dean usually drinks coffee in the morning, he literally can't function without it. He never cleans the coffee machine after himself, much less shoves a chair under the table." Quickly putting the jug back, he walked to Dean's room.