Chapter Text
When Castiel woke up, he could feel. He felt the wet grass scratching his check and dampening his suit. He felt the cool evening air chilling his skin. He could feel every single crease and fold in the fabric of his suit, to an uncomfortable and hypersensitive degree.
And, once he stood up from the earth and looked up towards the heavens, he could feel the suffocating cloak of anxiety and guilt and fear and despair as he watched thousands of his brothers and sisters plummeting to their demise.
*****
As Dean finally laid in bed that night, it was as though he could feel nothing at all. Numb. He was drained from the day’s events. Events he would much rather forget, if he were honest. And, oops, there we go, now he just reminded himself of it all over again- feelings back in an instant.
Strange, how feelings are like that. They are instant at times, gradual at others. Sometimes a flood, sometimes a constant cycle of drips and drops, building up so unnoticeably until suddenly you’re underwater, drowning.
*****
Thirst. That was the feeling of the moment for Cas. As an angel, he knew all the symptoms of dehydration- dry mouth, fatigue, dizziness, the whole works. However, as an angel, he didn’t actually know what it was like to feel all of these thing.
Well, as Dean would so eloquently put it- it sucks.
And speaking of thirst- Dean. Personally, Cas would much prefer having Dean than water at the moment. Or at any moment, really. Dean. How is he? How is Sam? Did they complete the trials? Is Sam dead? Is Dean broken? Cas should have stayed. He knew this with 100% certainty. He knew it as he flew away. He knew it as he landed in heaven. He definitely knew it now.
Too late. Knowledge won’t fix his actions. It won’t fix Dean, or Sam, or heaven- all of which he categorically failed. What he knows know is that when—if—he sees Dean again, there will be hell to pay.