Wideeyedloner - A Feeling; A Heartbeat; A Hater.

wouldst thou like the taste of old-ass candy?

Anyone else grow up watching this?

[fic] [supernatural | destiel] behold the last

Summary:

The place was open for Sunday services only, but Dean has carried a pick set in his jacket since he was nine, so it was just a few seconds before Cas took a creaking step into the nave, gazing reverently upon the whitewashed walls, the hardwood oak pews, the stained glass windows.

ao3

One routine salt-and-burn and they were back on the I-70 from Topeka in dispirited silence while the Impala ate up the miles. As Dean eyed Cas, he thought the other man looked worse for wear the further from grace he’d fallen, especially now that he was completely human. It didn’t suit him. He looked hollow, haunted. It made Dean feel like an asshole, sometimes, for resurrecting him.

As usual, Cas leaned his head against his window, eyes fixed vacantly ahead. Didn’t initiate conversation, didn’t say much when Dean said something. So Dean sure as hell took notice when Cas turned his head to look at Exit 324. He pulled onto the dirt road and followed it past little white houses and lush greenery on rich dark soil, watching how Cas reacted to turns and forks to make sure he was going the right way.

At one of the intersections (Chapel Street, go figure) stood a small, gabled limestone chapel, complete with bell tower. Straight out of a postcard. Cas turned his head to look at it as they approached, so Dean pulled the Impala into the empty parking lot and killed the engine.

The place was open for Sunday services only, but Dean has carried a pick set in his jacket since he was nine, so it was just a few seconds before Cas took a creaking step into the nave, gazing reverently upon the whitewashed walls, the hardwood oak pews, the stained glass windows.

Dean took a moment to look around, himself. The place wasn’t much; just an old church. He’d never been much for religion and his experiences had soured him on any sort of spirituality. It was quiet, though, so that was nice.

The sound of something falling caught Dean’s attention and he turned to find Cas on his knees beside the front pew, shoulders hunched, trembling and sniffling softly. Dean choked on curses and apologies as he made his way over, kneeling beside Cas and touching his shoulder. Cas collapsed into Dean. His tears dampened Dean’s shirts as he heaved with a sorrow Dean had never seen him express. Or, thinking of his increasingly gaunt face over the years, maybe he had.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and murmured apologies he didn’t fully mean to his damp temple. He hadn’t truly understood at the time what he’d asked Cas to sacrifice when he’d demanded his help to save Sam the first time, but he wished he felt guilty enough to regret it.