funnycas:

float-in-darkness:

Castiel
closed his eyes, hanging about in the bunker as usually, alone, bored
to some extent. He used to spend a lot time there, sometimes
reminiscing about the good old days, pleasant memories in his mind,
sometimes remembering everything that hurt, made something in his
chest feel heavy.

The angel
could say he’d lived for a very long time already, but the time with
the Winchesters had been the most heart-wrenching experience he ever
made so far.

There
certainly were good times and bad times, they had ups and downs, some
day they would hate each other, the other they’d die for one another.
The brothers never really ceased to entertain him. Not then, and not
now.

Not now,
when the bunker was cold, abandoned, forgotten by everyone than
Castiel, the impala slowly rusting away, hidden between some
branches, in the already tall grass, where the Winchesters had left
it behind. Where Dean knew his baby would be safe.

Only Castiel
sometimes took the time to actually return to it, having a look if
everything was alright, no matter that the car was already falling
apart.

He could
deal with humans, release their pain and heal their wounds, but he
didn’t have the ability to repair a car, not with his powers and
certainly not how Dean did. So he just assigned himself the task to
at least make sure no one messed around with it.

Just like
the rusting impala, the Winchesters’ name also faded, there were
still stories about them amongst the hunters of the new age, but most
of them deemed them myths. The legend of the Winchesters, great and
tragic, heroes like the world hadn’t seen them before, yet no one
really knew if it was true, no evidence of their actual existence
remained.

It all had
been removed by Castiel, he’d gathered everything that could’ve been
an evidence, brought it to the bunker and sealed it away. He’d often
return there, rifling through what they’d left behind, their old and
new photos, the samulet, their weapons, the keys for baby, even their
clothes.

Castiel
would take his time, sit down on the floor in front of all the boxes,
going through each memory he still had concerning their things, their
existence, it all fading away a little bit more with each year
passing.

Castiel
would sometimes cry, biting his lip and holding his breath as sorrow
and grief overwhelmed him, leaving him broken.

He knew Dean
and Sam had found their peace, they’d been able to bring their war
and suffering to an end, their fight was finally over.

And yet,
among all the joy he felt because they didn’t have to suffer, fight
and cry anymore, there was only grief. Castiel dearly missed them,
lamentation welling up within him every time he thought about them,
their time together. He felt lonely.

And so,
reminded of how he sometimes wasn’t able to move on without them,
Castiel gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the tears, and put his
head back, exhaling.

It was at
these times that the bunker felt even more oppressive and cold,
showing just how much better it had been with Dean and Sam in it,
like a home.

A home,
where Castiel now could hide from everything, for hours, cry without
being watched, mourning the Winchesters’ deaths as if it hadn’t
already been many decades since they’d passed away.

THIS IS NOT OKAY!!

My poor heart. I’m broken