THE ELEVENTH HOUR [Castiel x F!Reader]

1

You can't help but watch Dean from your place in the passenger seat. The radio plays some old rock song, giving a quiet background noise for him to focus on. You were never too into that kind of music - not like Dean is - but you know the classics, thanks to him. There's a slight ring in the background of the radio but he doesn't seem to mind, so you don't bother bringing it up. Dean drives calmly, his gaze cast forward as the lights from outside glow upon his face. His expression is one of pensive calm and his lips are slightly pursed. You watch Dean blink, staring at the way his green eyes drift across the road. You want to say something, so badly, so desperately, that you can feel the words start to ride up your throat. But the car comes to a stop. Pushing your lips together and swallowing the words, you look out at the clear sky - a perfectly wasted day.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

When you turn back to him, you see he's watching you. His eyes are so gentle and the corners of them crinkle as he smiles at you.

"Nothing," you shake your head, "everything is perfect this way."

"Is that why you keep staring?" He raises an eyebrow, causing you to let out a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," you nod back, watching how he lets out a chuckle of his own, "sorry."

"No, no, please," he shakes his head, that tender smile still planted on his mouth, "I'd be admiring you more if I didn't have to focus on the road."

He opens the impala door, stepping out into the light of the sun.

"Admiring? Is that what you think I was doing?" You ask, exiting after him. When you close the door, the sun is gone. It's dark now. You look up to the sky, seeing the dark grey clouds swarming above.

"Of course you were," Dean appears beside you, suddenly, causing you to gasp in shock. Something isn't quite right. His expression turns to concern for a moment, "Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?"

Pausing to take a breath, your face falls, "I think I'm just... waiting for you to disappear."

A frown crosses Deans face, "I'm not going anywhere."

When he reaches his hand towards your waist, your chest sparks with excitement and nerves. But only for a moment, because you realise you can't feel his touch on your body. When you look down at it, you can see his ringed hand on you, rubbing up and down gently. You feel nothing. A clap of thunder and lightning illuminates the sky, you watch it slowly break across the grey as if the lightning strike is travelling in slow motion.

When you turn back to Dean, no one is there.

You open your eyes. The fan on the motel ceiling spins slowly, clicking with every circle it completes. Just like that, Dean's gone. Looking to your bedside table, the alarm reads: 6:36 am. From beyond the dusty curtains, the sun is beginning to rise but it's still dark outside. As you stand to your feet, the ache in your head sends you back down to the comfort of the pillows and blankets.

Groaning, you place a hand over your forehead, hearing a dull ring in your ears. "Not today, please," you mumble in pain, "please."

When you try to stand again, the ringing ceases and the pain subsides a little. But your head still pounds. And just like that, the day begins. The motel room is so eerily quiet on your own. You wash your face. Pack your stuff. Drink some coffee. And you hit the road. You ignore the calls from Bobby and unknown numbers. It's so quiet without Dean.

It's 6 pm now, you've stopped at four different crossroads. The sun hangs low in the sky and you're beginning to crave a bed, any bed, anywhere you can sleep and dream with him again. You'd give anything to have him back; your life, your years, your soul, any single fucking thing just to have him alive and well. Parking your car along the road, you collect your box and step out. Kneeling on the dirt floor, you claw at the ground and bury the box. You have no hope this time, even as you grip the demon knife in your right hand.

"Poor, poor baby. Y/N Y/L/N, still searching for a deal."

Chills run down your back at the vile voice, and the hairs at the back of your neck prick up. You stand up, turning to face the demon, "Can you end my search?"

She's taller than you, her high heels make her tower over you. She has a strong jaw, piercing red eyes, and her hair is blonde and curled perfectly. If she weren't a soulless demon, you'd admit she was pretty - at least, the vessel is. Pouting her lips, she shakes her head at you as if she feels any semblance of sympathy, "No one can help you, no matter how hard you try. Dean Winchester's soul is roasting in Hell, that's the way we like it."

"You know that I'd do anything, I'll give up anything," you repeat the phrase you've told every other of her kind. The lines mean nothing to you now, you've lost hope. "Make a deal with me."

"You know who you sound like?" She brushes the tips of her fingers across your cheek. It's been months since anyone's touched you, you shut your eyes. "Little old Sammy Winchester."

You open your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows at her, "What? What did you just say?"

"Oh, you don't know?" She smiles, pinching your cheeks harshly, "How adorable."

You snatch her hand away from you, gripping it in your own and she lets out a pleasant sigh, "What do you know about Sam Winchester?"

"He's been up and down these parts, not unlike yourself, trying to save Dean. If anyone wanted to save that idiot, they would." She smirks, leaning in closer to you as she pulls her hand from yours, "Accept it, he's never coming back. Deans rotting in Hell like the arrogant piece of shit he is! Nothing, not even you, can save him now. He's ours! And he always will be!"

You plunge the knife into her side, twisting it up into her ribs. She screams, mouth widening as you rip the knife from her.

You turn away, collecting your box without a second glance as she fades to nothing. Oh, Sam. You knew when he left, it'd be to do something reckless. Dean wouldn't want this for him.

When you get inside your car, you pull your phone from the compartment. You find Sam's number, looking over it for a second before you begin to drive. You don't know where, you just go. The entire way, you're calling any number that could possibly be Sam's, and you're getting nothing but voicemails and dial tones. At some point, you deem it's useless, throwing your phone against the seat.

You drive, on and on until you pass seven different hotels, finally stopping at the eighth. The cheap room you settle for doesn't have a working heater, so you improvise. Grabbing towels from the bathroom, you drape them over your blanket on the bed. It's cold, and as you wrap yourself in thin, worn-out blankets, you close your eyes.

Dean wears a thick jacket, gloves adorn his hands and when he breathes, it comes out in puffs of steam. "Your nose is red!" He laughs, hands on either side of your face. It's so tender and sweet, you want to be here forever.

"Yeah, I'm freezing!" You state the obvious to him, looking around at the snow blanketing the ground around you, "Where are we going?"

"Not long now," he responds, pulling his jacket off and draping it around your shivering frame, "Come on."

"Wait, no," you attempt to give the jacket back to him, "Dean-"

He just shakes his head, putting his arms on your shoulders, "You need it more, trust me. Anyways, it's not long now."

"Not long until what? Dean?"

"Until I have to say goodbye." He marches off into the snow, you're left to trod behind him as he approaches a tiny cabin.

"You don't have to say goodbye," you tell him, your brain recognising the dreamy elements of this. It isn't real. Your mind is trying to let go of Dean, you won't let it.

Turning to look at you, Dean gives you a warm smile. "We all have to say goodbye eventually."

You forget about the cold, about the demons, about deals, and anything else. It doesn't matter. This does. "Says who?" You ask him.

Dean points to the sky, it's white with falling snowflakes, "Says the man upstairs."

"God?" You wonder, tilting your head at him, "Since when do you talk about-"

"I'm gonna miss it," he cuts you off, a sad look upon his face. He turns to the door, hand extended out about to knock. Dean turns his head to the side. You can still see his smile as he continues, "I'm gonna miss dreaming with you."