[ Something old and rusted over moves in his chest, like a long abandoned machine reawakened, and even though Castiel does not need to breathe, he finds that he can breathe again.
Dean is back.
Dean is alive.
Castiel reaches out, makes it easier for Dean to hold onto his forearm. His fingers twitch momentarily, then curl inwards, a gentle glow and flow of warmth down into that chest, down to where he pulse meets the gentle push of Castiel's grace again. Alive. And all Castiel wants is to hold, to cherish.
The candle burns, still. That precious, fragile light holds, and Castiel wants and needs nothing more than to cup his hands around it, shelter it from the raging storm their existence has become. ]
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Dean is back.
Dean is alive.
Castiel reaches out, makes it easier for Dean to hold onto his forearm. His fingers twitch momentarily, then curl inwards, a gentle glow and flow of warmth down into that chest, down to where he pulse meets the gentle push of Castiel's grace again. Alive. And all Castiel wants is to hold, to cherish.
The candle burns, still. That precious, fragile light holds, and Castiel wants and needs nothing more than to cup his hands around it, shelter it from the raging storm their existence has become. ]
Hello, Dean.