Sung by a dying swan

[forthedog]

He waits until they're in their bedroom, girls sleeping next door, everything blessedly, mercifully quiet, to let himself collapse.

He doesn't make it to the bed. He goes down onto the floor in a kind of controlled slide, jacket half off, still in his boots, eyes closed because the lids literally feel too heavy. He's shaking. He might be weeping with relief and release if he had the energy. As it is he feels almost comatose, on his knees on the floor with his head tipped back, one hand bracing himself against the foot of the bed.

He just needs to stay here a few minutes. Just needs to get himself together enough to get naked and fall into bed. Enough to be here and present for Neil, because he's not the only one who watched Dean Winchester die tonight.

Just needs to try to understand what it means that this is finally over.

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[forthedog]

"We can take a lot," he murmurs, more to himself than anything else, stepping under the spray and leaning into it, braced against the wall. It's a surge of tired comfort in him, everything loosening and shedding, and he moans softly.

[likeaplanet]

"Speak for yourself," I mutter flatly, but he's right. We can. I just don't want to think about it, right now.

Following him into the shower, I crowd in close behind him, my arms loose around his waist and my chin on his shoulder.

[forthedog]

He sighs and leans backward, one hand closing over Neil's. Getting here took some doing... But yeah, it was worth it.

The problem will be when it's time to move again.

"I always knew he was an angel," he says softly, after a few moments. "But it's... different. To see it."

[likeaplanet]

"Yeah. I mean, I've literally touched his grace. Had it like, spilling out into my hands, but this was... different," I agree.

I'm quiet for a second or two, just letting the water beat down on my shoulders, then I snort out a laugh. "That sounded a lot kinkier out loud, than it really was."

[forthedog]

He echoes the laugh, soft and tired, tipping his head back against Neil's shoulder. "It does. It sounds really fucking kinky. Should I be jealous?"

He reaches up and back, combs his fingers into Neil's wet hair. "What was it like? Could you feel it?"

[likeaplanet]

"Honestly? I was kinda distracted by him dying. But it was warm. Like... energy, instead of something actually solid," I murmur, my lips grazing the crook of his neck, teeth scraping gently.

"And yeah, man. It was really hot, stitching up a dying angel. The tears made it even better, and him makin' me promise to save Dean, if he didn't make it? Total fuckin' wet dream material."

[forthedog]

"Jesus," he breathes, laughing again - at some point you have to laugh at things like this, because you can't really do anything else. "That's..."

He opens his eyes slightly, the spray breaking up his vision. "Things need to not be totally shit for a while."

[likeaplanet]

"We're gonna be okay, remember? You said so," I say, teasing just a little bit, my hand sliding over his chest, up to curl gently around his throat.

"This whole thing could've gone a whole lot worse. We were lucky."

[forthedog]

"Just 'cause I say it, doesn't make it so." He reaches up and closes his hand over Neil's at his throat, just holding it there. Like everything else, it's strangely comforting.

"Anyway, no shit. He could still be dead right now." He's quiet a moment, thinking. "One of us should go back to the hospital tomorrow. I dunno if they'll let anyone see him yet, but..."

[likeaplanet]

"I can go in the mornin'. After like... at least twelve hours of sleep," I murmur, reaching blindly for the bar of soap in the dish and lathering up my hands.

"Cas is probably still there. He'd probably sleep curled up at the foot of Dean's fuckin' bed, if they let him."

[forthedog]

"Not sure how they'd stop him if he really wanted to." What he'd seen in the chapel... He's not sure he'll ever look at Castiel in quite the same way again.

"I'll stay with the girls." He pauses a beat, then, "I wanna spend more time with them.I want... I guess I want to be about life for a while."

[likeaplanet]

"Good. I think they were startin' to miss you again," I murmur, rubbing my hands over his shoulders with enough force to work some of the kinks out.

"Last couple weeks can't have been good for 'em. Even if Spike wasn't such a bad sitter."

[forthedog]

"Hasn't been good for any of us." He's been focused on death for so long. What he's thinking of now, loosening still further under Neil's hands, is his garden back on the island. His flowers. On his knees with his hands in the cool soil, making things grow.

If he's truly accepted all parts of himself, that means not neglecting any of them.

"It's spring," he murmurs. "I almost didn't notice."