Schizo||Destiel||#Wattys2017||

Year 23: The Meadow

Well, life had just fallen to shit, hadn't it?

The past year had become one of the hardest in Castiel's life, and that's saying something, considering he had no idea what was making it wrong, besides the fact that he almost lost Dean this year. Castiel hadn't let Dean out of his sight since he found the gun in Dean's hands. Dean kept claiming that Bartholomew had given it to him. Bartholomew had told him to use it. Bartholomew, Bartholomew, Bartholomew. Dean's old imaginary friend had become his worst enemy. He was always staring at Cas with those apple green eyes, pleading for his husband to get Bartholomew away from him. Cas took the weight on his shoulders. He took it like a gunshot, and Castiel found himself in the old slump again. That slump with the little voice in the back of his head saying that he couldn't keep two lives in two hands. In all honesty, he couldn't. His hands were full, and the sad fact is, to him, Dean's life was much bigger than his, and it required two hands to keep it off the ground. Castiel hadn't become suicidal, not again, at least, but everything he did was for Dean. He had Dean come in and work in his building. He never let Dean out of his sight. It was almost sad.

But then Cas started losing weight.

And Dean started regaining sanity.

And everything was flipped.

Cas didn't understand what he was doing to himself. He simply just... forgot. He forgot that food is a necessity, unlike color. Sure, he'd have a slice of cheese here and there, but he simply just wasn't hungry. He wasn't trying. He never tries to hurt himself. Not after he was 16, but Dean was back on his meds, now, and there were hardly any hallucinations. Though, when he saw Cas, he hoped, hell, he prayed that he was one.

"Cassie," Dean whispered, wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulder. Cas looked up, smiling wide. He looked Dean from head to toe, sighing. Cas had fallen asleep on the couch, which was kind of funny, because the couch was the one place hated to be without anything occupying his mind. Television was not really mind-occupying. Castiel preferred a good book, or maybe his sketchbook to keep him comfortable on the couch. He had settled for Television this one time. "Cassie, wake up. I'm taking you somewhere,"

Dean looked like a puppy when Cas opened his eyes. "Where?"

"You'll see," Dean pulled Cas up, pulling him to his chest, where Castiel melted into Dean's arms. He felt like a kid again, like when he used to hug his father after a bad day at school. He felt so small, yet so safe. He was safe.

--

When they arrived, it was a little after three 'o clock pm. The sun kissed the mountain ahead of them, and the clouds were nowhere in sight. It was a nice temperature out. Castiel loved it. Dean had taken him to a meadow, a small pond sat in the middle of it. Blues and reds and purples and yellows painted the land, each speck of color one of numerous flowers littering the ground. Castiel was almost brought to tears by the sight. "Dean," he whispered, stepping forward. "How did you find this place?" He found himself kneeling next to the pond, holding his breath. This was the one thing that he had seen that was as beautiful as his husband. The water was still in front of him, and Castiel could see his refection. The scraggly hair atop his head was falling in front of his face, which was as thin as the rest of him, and in that moment, he felt his stomach growl. He smiled a little.

"I took a wrong turn and ended up here," Dean sat next to him, still as the nonexistent breeze in the field. His touch warmed Castiel's heart.

Cas looked at him, biting his lip as he shoved himself into Dean's arms again. It was a gesture that he did every day. It was to prove to Dean how much Cas needed him, and to prove to Cas how much he wanted to be with Dean. Cas wanted to hear his heart beat. He wanted to feel his chest move with every breath he took. Cas wanted Dean to be with him every second of every day. It's been like that for 23 years, now, and Castiel isn't even awestruck that it's been that long. Dean had always been there, food times or bad. He became a necessity, as much as Cas hated to admit it. He needed Dean as much as he needed food or water. Without him, Castiel wouldn't understand what he was doing, where he was going. His earliest memory was Dean replying, No, I'm Dean, when asked if he was crazy. Castiel couldn't remember anything earlier, and though he managed to live without his family members, he never managed to live without Dean. "It's beautiful, Dean."