It's In Your Eyes

He was Omnibenevolent, Omniscient, Omnipotent

Castiel's Memory -

I'd stand on the veranda every evening, feeling the warmth of the dying sun prickle my skin, watch how it brings out a golden dust on everything around me, wondering if I could just melt in this sea of warm gold and just be a part of something bigger...

But today was different. I'd told them something at dinner tonight that had changed everything for me. I'd barely liked to admit it to myself before this point, but now there is no coming back.

I think of their faces, now. How they'd looked when I'd said it, as I'd been ushered away from them. My mother almost crying, a look of disgust hidden on her constant, ever-mild mask, watching me like I'd just thrown my plate of food across the table towards her for no reason. My dad, reddening with anger, about to lose any control he pretended to have. He was all loving in public. He was all knowing at work.

He was all powerful when the doors shut behind him and no one else could see. Our house, out in the middle of nowhere, perfect. No one could see, hear or help. No one had the power to change it...

Lucifer had intervened, he'd been the one to guide me out. Holding my shoulder tightly. "It's okay Cassy. Just, go out there, or it's going to get bad. I'll come get you, don't worry. They know now, but don't worry. I'll fight him raw and bloody before he lays a hand on you."

He's the only person who knew then... How he found out was a long, difficult and embarrassing story. But I'm glad he knew, because he was easy to talk to and trust, my confidante.

After a while I perch on the edge of the creaky swing-seat, old and rusty and rough. It protests loudly but I have to sit, my legs wobbling dangerously as I sink down, chewing my lower lip liberally to hold in my rattling sobs.

"So, Cassy. Any girls you like at school?" Every day. Asked this every single day, like maybe they already knew, but were willing it not to be true.

When my mother asked, it almost sounded praying and desperate. Begging me to say I had an interest in this stuff. When my dad asked though, it was heavy, threatening almost, and everything about him was intimidating. Some days I'd shrug, maybe mumble something before scurrying away. Other days I'd just be silent and stare back, my brain skipping like a record...

And every day, after I shook my head or whatever, I'd go to my room the second I could to hide any tell tale signs when my mind wandered to the...

Dean's POV -

"The- the person I liked..." He stutters, the break in narrative pulling me from the image of him standing alone on the veranda, scared, hiding in his room. I don't know what happened, but his face is paler than usual even, his lip trembling. And I look down to see his hand in mine, holding tight.

Something stirs in me, warm and fluttery, spreading through me, low, in my veins.

I look up to him and take in his eyes, this time glassy and tears have spilled over into the flushed apples of his cheeks. I squeeze his hand, a lump in my own throat, and his eyes dart down to them, his chest rising and falling fast.

"This person- he was a boy that-" His voice hitched then stopped, he shakes his head and no words come. I just feel more heat under my skin as I realise.

"You're gay?" I ask, everything slotting together in my head. He looks ill, barely nodding but I know I'm right anyway. I can feel him shaking and his hand starts to tug away from mine. I think usually, in the past, I'd have reacted badly to something like this, immaturely and uncomfortable. But I've grown up. I've started thinking about things... Myself...

I hold his hand where it is, pressed between my palms to keep in there. I link my fingers through his to secure him and look up at him starring at me, and lean against him more when I look out at the dark horizon, lightening with a pinkish-golden hue. He rests against me too, relaxing a little, so tiny, thin and delicate, but it feels nice.

"I don't care..."