The Last Spark

Chapter 11

At first, Dean thought he was hallucinating. It seemed too good to be true.

Cas, right there after all these years. Still beautiful, still alive.

It always catches him off guard: Cas walking right past him, the wind lifting the bottom of his trench coat. His hair looks like a mess at first, but if you look closer, you can notice some lighter patches that bleached under the sun or the little curls on the back of his head that sometimes make him ticklish.

His shoulders - broad and strong, his white dress shirt perfectly aligning the features.

His hands looked like they were a part of a Greek sculpture that came alive at some point: a short palm, long fingers, sharp knuckles, and slightly dry skin on his finger pads. Those fingers touched the first water. And those fingers ran through Dean's hair while he was falling asleep.

His eyes store decades of wisdom and memories. Those eyes saw beauty and ugliness, happiness, horror, birth, and inevitable death. They saw galaxies being destroyed and new atoms being built, souls corrupting, bodies being possessed, pure power fading, and emptiness flooding. But then those eyes looked at Dean. Blue, like the sky he came from.

When he saw Dean entering the barn with the cold air quickly rushing to fill the space, his lips slightly opened . He used those lips while casting spells, leading the army of angels into the battle of life and death. He used these lips to plead to his father and send him hopeful prayers, his speech full of faith. But then he used them to kiss Dean on the forehead before drifting to sleep in his arms.

It was him. And he was right there.

Dean allowed himself to breathe with his full chest, his mind quitting drawing horrible pictures of his friend on the verge of the road, alone, his skin pale and lips cold, blue. The breath he took seemed to be the first one he took in days.

The man stepped closer, trying to make Cas out of that dark silhouette in the barn's corner. The figure reacted by stepping back twice as much, increasing the distance between them and disappearing into the shadows completely.

- We worried you got in trouble, - Dean started, concerned, slowly switching to anger. - You know, maybe because you didn't bother telling any of us where you were going or why, or at least for how long. Maybe that's why I thought you froze to death or got attacked by some monster right after you ran off. You even left your phone in the bunker so we wouldn't have any way of contacting you.

- Dean... - Cas whispered, barely audible.

- We spent the entire day looking for you! - he pointed sharply in the shadow's direction, it visibly shrank, - Sam didn't even get to sleep, because he was helping me look for your sorry ass! And let me tell you, the search wasn't easy at all.

-Dean, - he added some volume.

-No, you listen to me! You left! You left! You promised me you wouldn't leave... - he stumbled on his words, heat rising to his cheeks, - You promised me you wouldn't leave me, and just a couple of days later you ran out with the wind!

Was it that horrible to spend these weeks with me? Was I that unbearable? Or that needy? Were you just waiting for the first opportunity to bail, so when you got it, you used it right away!

And I thought that that was one of the best times in my entire life, can you imagine? Nice to know it wasn't anything like that for you.

Do you even realize what's wrong? I thought you were dead, Cas! Dead!

- Dean! - Cas finally yelled, stepping into the dim light, making him appear almost golden. - I'm sorry. I, - he choked on tears, and Dean's rage disappeared in an instance. The angel brought his hands close to his face, hiding behind the sleeves of his jacket, as his breath kept failing. His whole body was shaking, but he stood still, trying to pronounce one phrase: