I Can't Do This Without You

Hello Again, Castiel

Sam ducked outside "to call a few friends".

"God damn it, Cas. Come back to me. Please." Dean begged the broken body, starting to silently cry.

Cas didn't answer. He couldn't, and Dean didn't expect him to.

Dean thought about praying for a miracle. But to who? The angels had all been ejected from Heaven. God?

God didn't care.

Dean didn't blame him.

Must be nice, not caring about the fate of the world. Dean wished he could say the same for himself.

Sam quietly approached him. "Dean... I called a psychic down in Austin, Texas. She says Cas' grace, according to a very old version of Writings, will always find him and reenter his body if he meets his mortality in a fallen state. It doesn't matter where or how it's being kept, the call is that strong. You need the following: salt, holy water, opium, henna, and incense. And... One of his feathers. He still has wings, even as a human, though he therefore can't use them."

Dean felt a sliver of hope, but he pushed it down.

"Do we have that stuff in the trunk?" His voice sounded terrible.

Sam nodded. "Some. We might have enough, if I scrounge."

"Then, you get those things. I'll... Get a feather off of him."

Sam walked away, and Dean laid Cas down carefully, noting the shadows of the wings on the ground. Then, he felt the air above the shadows.

If he concentrated, he could, just barely, feel a soft, lean wing, about six inches off the ground. It bowed inward, all the way to a notch in Cas' spine.

Dean didn't acknowledge the discomfort at the intimacy of this position, leaning over Cas and feeling the notch in his spine.

There were bound to be loose bits of down on the innermost parts of his wings, Dean defended himself.

Finding a piece of fluffy softness, he pulled gently. It only took a few seconds for him to pluck it.

Examining the invisible feather, he thought he saw a slight shimmer in the air.

He felt a pang in his stomach, as he gazed upon Cas' face. His eyes were still open.

Dean closed them, kissing Cas on the forehead. "Oh, Cas, why did you have to die?"

Dean sat up as Sam walked in again, arms full of supplies.

Dean numbly did what Sam instructed him to do, spray painting the runes and setting fire to the opium, lighting the incense and marking Cas' face with henna as Sam chanted in Latin.

As Sam uttered the last word, a high-pitched keen pierced their ears. As Dean winced and covered his ears, he saw a blueish-white light float in the open window, into Cas' mouth and down his throat.

A painful second passed.

Then, Cas gasped. His eyes flew open, and they glowed with grace for a second before returning to their normal hue.

"What-what are we doing here?" Cas sat up, looking around.

"You don't remember the shifter killing you?"

Cas only looked more confused.