layne67

tabaqui. Gen, 2400+ words.

I've always had this desire to write something meta-ish on Castiel and what he is to Dean, what Dean is to him, but I'm not eloquent or articulate enough to express what I feel on that, and I fear that what I write will not do justice to what I feel is Castiel's huge affection for Dean. And also, because my love for SamandDean and what they are to each other is still very much there, reinforced by the last three episodes. So when I came across this fic by

tabaqui, I was like, my God, that is exactly what has been hovering at the back of my mind, Castiel's love for Dean, his charge, right from the moment he dragged Dean's soul out of hell.

"I am your Angel, Dean, and you are my charge."

That to me, is what Castiel and Dean are in a nutshell.

A tale on what it's like during and right after the war between Heaven and Hell, told mostly from Castiel's POV.

Home. Castiel felt nothing at the word. Wanted to stay in this newly minted world and.... And what? He had no place here. No more duties to perform. No more tasks to undertake. Dean had Sam and there was...nothing, now. The truth of that – the weight of it – suddenly came down upon Castiel like the weight of the world. He murmured something – he didn't know what – and then was gone, fleeing the palpable warmth and love, the joy, the SamandDean that was a rolling, roaring undercurrent to every bit of stray energy in the room. There was nothing that could deflect it, lessen it, or divide it again. Castiel could not be of it, and so could not bear to be near it. In the end, there was nothing he could do but stay away, and try to forget.

And he could feel a weary resignation from Dean, sorrow and affection and desire. And then nothing, because the wars were truly over, and Castiel was no one's angel now. No one's at all.