Breathe Again

Summary- The Leviathans had been so strong and he no more than a puppet, Dean knows he could have made a difference given the chance, if he had only noticed the desperation in Castiel, the need for help, given a second chance will he make the same mistakes? DxC Destiel

First fic for a while, hope it's ok, let me know what you think and if should continue,

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From the very beginning he had known how this would end, it would not be the first time that he had died and there was to be no redemption from this act, he lost himself in the ebb and flow of the water, in the pull of the current, lost himself in memories, the leviathan are strong within him, he feels the anger flooding from them into him, feels it grow so strong he can no longer separate where they end and he begins. Then there is simply nothing, nothing but the strong grip of regret and ever present darkness.

In the darkness there is light, there is a voice, there is forgiveness, the very feeling of grace fusing back into him, returning to him as if had been lost for a millennium. There are wings surrounding him, they cut the water and encase him, he knows this figure, remembers them well, remembers so much and his heart aches with the burden of it all. There is a voice inside his head, it's strong and commanding and he trusts implicitly but he cannot understand, there is a reason for the things that he has done, a purpose and the methods may not have been right but there is understanding, perhaps even pride.

He feels the air, the water trickling across his skin, he sees a long lost sister kiss his forehead, watches the numerous wings spread out behind her.

'We all get lost Castiel, there is such good in you, so much more you have yet to accomplish. The Leviathan have a secret, my brother, they plan to kill our father, there are seven of them, they travel through the water, this was your brothers plan, it is your fate to stop them.'

He should have known that it was a trap, that Raphael had something more planned, he had been so desperate to succeed that he had been blinded and now he had risked everything again, another threat to the world. His betrayal is prominent in his mind.

'Forgiveness must start from within yourself brother...' she touches his forehead, the very briefest of caresses and he feels the centuries of memories beginning to fade, there are things that he tries to cling to but in the end they slip through his fingers like the smallest grains of sand.

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Dean is of the mindset that he will find answers at the bottom of a bottle, he's not quite sure which one but he assumes whiskey would be a good one to start with today. He can't quite remember where Sam said he was going, an errand for Bobby, he's been trying to keep busy, keep his head in reality. Dean's trying to forget, he's getting there, slowly. He looses the day in bottles, in alcohol induced sleep and dreams that shatter him to the core, he doesn't leave the room, begins to loose his mind staring at the same four walls and mind numbing daytime TV, he doesn't need help. He tells himself it's just a down day, everyone has them and he's no different, it will be ok tomorrow, he just has to wait for tomorrow to come, he doesn't know how long he's been stuck in yesterday.

He prays sometimes, but not often, when he forgets everything, nothing ever comes of it,

He prays today, a few angry heartfelt words forged from too much spirit in his bloodstream.

The time passes slowly and for all his bravado, all of the macho front and the lies he tells saying that he's fine, he knows that he's far from it. He's never felt so alone, so let down and he traces the days back in his mind, all the way back to the beginning when Castiel had pulled him from the pit, when he had first laid eyes on the angel, the shadow of wings against those old wooden beams, those too blue eyes. His mind circles every sweeping rescue, every moment when he had felt Castiel was about to refuse but had followed his faith in the eldest Winchester, had done as he had been asked regardless of the cost to himself.

"I always come when you call.."

The voice haunts him, every moment when he finds himself alone, deep and rich and the desperation in that sentence, the eyes that had pleaded with him, to forgive him for something he had yet to do. He thinks he can track the moments when the Angel had needed him the most, when the battles were over and he looked at the hunter with those too blue eyes, with chapped lips parted and a question on the tip of his tongue, but of course he had been too blind to see it, too caught up in himself, in Sam, he never thought that an Angel of the Lord might need his help, had never considered how desperate the war in heaven was becoming. Rachel had told him to his face and he should have stopped there, stopped pushing but he was so desperate to get what he wanted.

He remembers pushing too far, heavy coughs from lungs that protested, the blood that splattered white teeth and caught in the cracks of his lips, the unconsciousness that followed and how at one point Dean had been unsure as to if he would ever wake, the fear had gripped him then but it had not stayed, Castiel had always healed quickly. He had seen the best of the Angel, his sacrifices his beliefs, seen the worst, his anger and hopes shattered, his betrayal, what he had missed was his desperation, his fear and his isolation. Castiel had been right, he wasn't there when he had needed him.

Bobby was right as well, of course, he was far from ok, he had lost his best friend, the one person in the world who had risked everything he ever had for him without having any family ties, before he had even met him. The person who had stood beside him through it all, who had fallen for him, fought for him, died for him more than once. If he could go back, he knows the exact moment, exactly how he could fix what had been so broken for so very long, hindsight is a terrible burden to bear.

He misses Castiel,

The tears track across his face, the pain laid out bare for all to see, the alcohol burns his throat and the memories burn at his mind, the emotion chokes his heart.

Never had he truly expected to loose Castiel, after all the battles, the apocalypse, all those times he had been bought back, he had just assumed he would always be there.

He had been worried when Sam had stabbed the Angel, concerned that he was loosing Cas without having the chance to save him, not long later it was he who would callously order Death to kill the Angel without so much as a heartbeat of hesitation. There had been resolution in Castiel's eyes that day, he only just now could understand what it meant, he had wanted to die, locked deep down with all those souls fighting inside his head, the Leviathan bubbling beneath the flesh.

The Castiel of his dreams is soaking wet, the heavy droplets of water echo in the confines of the room, the water turns to blood, pushing up past his lips, and he is silent in his death, Dean feels the blood on his hands, long after the dream ends. He hates the sadness he sees in Castiel's eyes, the look that asks for understanding, as he whispers into the hunters ear with blood gurgling in his lungs that he was only trying to do his best.

The feathers are like charcoal to his touch as they rain down on him, those eyes are not that ethereal blue they should be and the blood is so bright in the darkness of the room. Those blackened smoke-like feathers surround him as he holds the angel.

"Even now, he has you so well protected, what a traitor you are Dean Winchester," the voice is harsh, condemning, he can feel the disgust in the eyes that burn into him. "I am not a figment of your imagination Winchester," there is a hand on his throat, dangerous and deadly the grip strong, "now show me some respect or no level of protection will save you from me." He meets pale green eyes, red hair so light that it is almost orange, he knows what this woman is, but he does not know her rank, hasn't come across one like her before. "Don't make me kill you before you can become useful to me," she smirks as she stands, produces a piece of paper and extends it to the hunter. He takes it gingerly and she rolls her eyes in obvious frustration.

"Who are you?" he demands the paper clutched in a bloodied hand.

"That is not something you need to know, what you need to know is on that paper and to go there now. If the Leviathan find him first then you're all dead," she instructs, staring the elder Winchester down, "he won't remember anything, the Leviathan strengthen with emotion, as you may have seen, you were very good at feeding them actually, if I had left him whole they would find him and devour him."

"What is going on, why do you have to be so cryptic,"

"I tire of your company, go, now!" She demands and places a hand to his forehead and he jolts awake with a start. The room is empty save for himself and he is sober as a judge, which does not help his confusion, there's a letter clutched in his hand, he unfolds the paper, the dream still fresh in his mind and reads the co-ordinates written within.

He moves quickly, with a purpose he has been lacking for months, grabs his coat and keys whilst calling Sam on his phone. He doesn't say much just relays the co-ordinates and tells him to meet him there now.

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The warehouse is ominous as he pulls the Impala into the abandoned car park, the trees extend high above head, the leaves falling in the receding heat of the autumn nights. He thinks he should wait for Sam but the voice demanding him to move and quickly remains strong and he grabs his gun and a blade and moves for the large doors that lead inside.

After entering the building he realises it's not actually a warehouse at all, it's an abandoned hospital and the inside is eerie and reminds him of the asylum all those years ago and how well that had gone. He steels himself and keeps walking into the darkness, the room number is written on the piece of paper in his pocket, deep ink so black against pale white. He counts the numbers off in his head as he passes the rooms, he's still not sure what he's going to find, if this is a trap, all he knows is that he has to do this and the thought that he doesn't have anything to loose.

The room is quite far into the decaying property, an old examination room and the door creaks in protest of the use of it's ancient hinges, the wood is rotten beneath his touch, it threatens to give at any moment. He later decides that on reflection the whole building feels like it's about to give, he stops dead in the doorway, the door balancing precariously in his grip. He looses his voice at the familiar sight, the too blue eyes that focus so intently on him, as though they're trying to place him.

His heart thunders to a stop,

"Cas," the word slips past his lips before he processes any thoughts further, a familiar head tilt is the only response. "Are you... sane? Feel like yourself?" it's a ridiculous question he knows but he's not sure if this is his Castiel or the puppet controlled by the Leviathans.

"I was instructed to wait for Dean Winchester, you match his description," the angel explains matter of fact tone to the deep voice. He knows in that moment that this is Castiel, the same as the first day they had met in that old broken down barn. "We should leave, your arrival has compromised this position," The angel stands, he sways slightly on his feet and Dean moves closer to him, he steadies himself without the need of help from the hunter.

"You ok?" the hunter asks sceptically, the angel seems pale, unsteady, it's almost as if he's putting up a front.

"I have yet to fully heal," he explains with a slight ache to his voice, as though this has been a painfully and uncertain recuperation. He leans against the wall for a moment, hiding the weaknesses he is suffering from the man before him.

"Heal from what?" he can't help but ask, does he mean the Leviathans, something further, Dean's not sure, but he wants to know, wants to help in some way. The deep blue eyes narrow uncertainty.

"It is none of your concern, we need to move," he takes a few steps and then it's as if someone has cut off the power supply, his eyes fade, close, he falls, Dean catches him swiftly, steadying the form against his own. The angel is a dead weight, like a puppet who's strings have all been cut, his heart thunders in his chest for a moment but the Angel still breathes and the relief washes over him like a cool breeze. He catches the thought that he never realised Cas breathed before, then allows it to fade as he comes to realise there are more important things to deal with at present.

"Dean!" the voice booms as the younger Winchester enters the room, he stops in the doorway, uncertainty obvious as he studies the scene before him, "Dean?" a question this time, the concern still holds true in the voice, the eldest Winchester cannot say he is surprised.

"It's complicated, but it's fine, trust me, lets just get back to the motel and I'll explain everything," Sam's too patient for his own good, he nods in understanding and goes to the Angel's side supporting him and helping his brother escort him to the car, they lay him down across the back seats of the Impala, Dean does a quick check for any obvious injuries, can find none.

Sam stares at him, all intrigue and questions, Dean rolls his eyes as he slides into the drivers seat, Sam decides to go with him leaving his rental car behind. The journey is long and silent, Dean glances at Castiel lying across the black leather seats of the Impala.

His heart is suddenly working again, aches at the vulnerable form of the angel, he wants to apologise, wants things to go back to how they had been before.

He doesn't want to make the same mistake again.

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There we have it the first chapter, I've been struggling with writer's block so hope it's ok, I apologise for any mistakes I may have missed, hope it's not too bad :)