[ he watches dean watching him, eyes soft, a little sad. a fission of something buzzes just beneath his human skin, and burrows deeper. past the meat of his vessel, down into the true core of what he is. it's not quite fear, but a kissing cousin. a feeling that's become rather pervasive in a life once devoid of feeling entirely, and all the more intoxicating for that. he doesn't like being miserable, but dean always reminds him why he likes feeling nothing even less— his borrowed heart kicks when dean says the word purgatory, and it all slots into place.
no wonder dean is so upset.
it's good to see him, regardless. and to be seen by him.
castiel's fingers twitch, some human instinct to reach out smothered beneath his shame. instead, he lifts his hand and scratches the gauze still covering his temple, the dull ache relegated to familiar background noise. he doesn't move from his place pinned against the door. ]
I was running, [ he explains, with some amount of resignation, ] to draw the Leviathan away from you. I was like a beacon to them.
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no wonder dean is so upset.
it's good to see him, regardless. and to be seen by him.
castiel's fingers twitch, some human instinct to reach out smothered beneath his shame. instead, he lifts his hand and scratches the gauze still covering his temple, the dull ache relegated to familiar background noise. he doesn't move from his place pinned against the door. ]
I was running, [ he explains, with some amount of resignation, ] to draw the Leviathan away from you. I was like a beacon to them.