It was impossible but it didn’t stop him from wanting, didn’t stop him from wishing, didn’t stop him from falling. It was obvious that the feelings weren’t quiet reciprocated because the angel didn’t understand them, didn’t understand what they meant and even if he did, he would never be able to act upon them. Dean knew all of this. Had always known it. But still…

He falls. He doesn’t stop it or try to hinge it or hinder it in anyway. He allows it to happen and doesn’t think twice about it. He falls and relishes the way it feels. Memorizes each moment of it because for the first time in a long time he’s alive. He welcomes each sensation, each feeling which overwhelms him and makes him buckle at his knees and gasp for air which he can’t quiet reach. He feels his chest ache and tighten and burn and he knows the name for it but never admits it out loud.

He knew before he fell that it was impossible, that he’d never have him, never hold him, never get the chance to tell him what he felt… how it felt to fall. So when Castiel leaves it doesn’t surprise him. Still he burns. Still he wants. Still he wishes. Still he falls.

And even though he’s alone, knees pressed to the earth and eyes set to the sky, he’s never felt more alive.