Castiel's SightCastiel didn't see Dean until he fell. He'd seen the molecules of life jittering in and out of existence. He saw the fire of the soul that burned within like a great golden flame. He saw the beauty of design and the providence of millions of years evolution in his make up.
But as Castiel's grace diminished and heavens sight was stripped from him he saw Dean's hands. And how they would shake with fear, with liquor poisoning and with pain. He heard the rough candour of Dean's voice as it brushed over his eardrums. As it called his name not over the silver tones of prayer but quantified in the night air, over meals and car seats. He felt Deans skin soft, mottled with scars and viciously alive along his palm.
After his grace was revived, along with his life, Castiel pressed his fingers to Dean's broken body and healed him without a seconds thought heaven's light flowing through every inch of him once more. In spite of this when Dean's freshly healed face looked up at him Castiel saw him,
Swing Bones and Motorbikes ch7Chapter 7: Begin the Beguine
Dean stared at the line of cans set up on wooden boxes, shot gun rested across his lap and a small smooth rock in hand. He tossed the pebble up and down before flicking it at the cans. It sailed between a can of peas and a jar of carrots then skittered off into the shrub. Grasshoppers pronged lazily around him occasionally landing on his shirt or pants before springing away once more. He leant the sky a glance as he listened to the quiet symphony of country sounds. The sun gave Dean an estimation of the hour. He sighed heavily; rubbing his eyes and pulled out his pocket watch to double check his guess. Castiel was indeed late.
With an impatient grumble he stood arching his back with a shivering stretch and yawn.
"Right" he muttered following the path of broken grass stems he'd made back up to the road "Where the hell are you?"
He placed his shotgun casually against his shoulder and walked down the road towards town keeping an eye out for his companion all t