Page 42 of Revert
He reached for me. I tried to catch his hand…only for him to slip out of reach.
The scene transformed again, and this time the setting changed. We now stood in a corridor cloaked in shadow. Castiel was there, but rather than the intimacy we’d shared before, his face was pale with urgency.
“Listen to me,” he said, his grip tight around my wrist. “He knows. You don’t have much time.”
My heart thundered.
“What are you talking about?” I tried to ask, but my voice was trapped in my throat, so that the words never reached him. He pressed something into my palm—a journal? A key? I couldn’t see it.
“If something happens—if I’m not there—go to the third panel by the?—”
The sound of a blade being drawn cut him off, and the light around us shattered. It broke like glass across my vision. Castiel and all the warmth he embodied vanished, replaced by cold, like I’d plunged beneath a frozen lake. The corridor twisted, folding in on itself.
Suddenly, I was running. My breath tore through my lungs, my bare feet struck unforgiving stone. Behind me, shadows chased me, heavy with inevitability.
And then I saw him.
The king—not the prince as the time before—stood at the end of the corridor, cloaked in darkness, his eyes gleaming with triumph. I tried to scream, but the sound didn’t save me. He lifted his sword…and pain pierced through me, sharp and absolute.
I woke with a silent gasp, throat tight, breath lodged in my chest. The dream clung to me, its fragments slipping through my grasp, yet refusing to vanish. I tried to assemble them like a mosaic to create meaning:A terrace. A kiss. A warning. A blade. And something deeper, straining to be remembered.
The hush of the room remained….but something was different. It took time to notice the strong and steady arms around me, anchoring me in place—an embrace unlike any I’d ever known, comforting and safe.
I blinked, and more of the surreal scene unfolded around me, details taking shape to form a startling picture. I was no longer wedged in the narrow shadow between wardrobe and wall, but out in the open…being held in the arms of the very man I had tried to hide from.
For an alarming moment I thought I was still dreaming. Surely I had to be; there was no possibility this could be real.
Only then did I realize I was trembling, murmuring his name as I clung to him, my past murderer. He didn’t wield a sword now, only his awkward, uncertain movements as he rubbed slowcircles along my back, comfort that undid me more than any weapon ever could.
Unlike our last encounter, where we’d been trapped together behind magic and duty, this felt like a trap of a different kind—one I had willingly fallen into…and I had no intention of escaping. For a rebellious moment, I allowed myself to stay in his arms, to savor the warmth of his chest and the steady beat of his heart.
Heaven help me, Ilikedbeing held by him.
Eventually sense stirred, urging me to move. I didn’t stir immediately, but when I finally forced myself to pull back, I immediately missed the warm security of his embrace. My fingers stayed curled in the fabric of his shirt, and no matter my silent orders to myself, I couldn’t seem to let go.
Tension lined his jaw as he stared at me, flicker of helpless longing in his eyes, as if he wanted to seize me and pull me back into his arm. For a faltering moment, I almost let him.
I drew a breath, finally calm enough to speak—though I didn’t move farther away. “What…happened?”
“You were screaming. Thrashing. I—” His voice broke, and his arms tightened around me, as though he feared I’d slip through them like smoke if he didn’t hold on.
Only then did I notice that he was also trembling, unguarded emotion warring in his eyes, as if his mask had been torn away to reveal the true prince behind the mask. This wasn’t the Castiel I had known, as if the man who’d brightened my dream had emerged to be by my side now.
His night shirt hung open at the collar, revealing a glimpse of the bare chest I had struggled not to think of when he’d been undressing just outside my hiding place. Before I could stop myself, I reached out hypnotically and brushed the skin I had only dared to imagine, solid beneath my hands. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.
“You’re real,” I whispered. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am,” he murmured. “Despite what it may seem, I’ll always be here.”
I had no reason to trust him, and yet whether it was the lingering effect of the dream or the way his voice held something raw, I believed him.
He slowly rose and moved away. I should have welcomed the distance. Instead, it left me hollow, aching for something I couldn’t name, as if he had taken the warmth with him.
For a foolish moment, I nearly swallowed my pride and called out. But before I could summon the words, he returned and draped a blanket around my trembling shoulders with a care that felt almost reverent—like he still needed to offer something, even if his touch might no longer be welcome. The truth was far more dangerous: it wasn’t the blanket I needed, buthim. The blanket felt cool and impersonal around me, incomparable to the warm comfort Castiel had brought.
The silence that followed was fragile, almost as peaceful as the one captured in my dream when we’d stood side by side in golden light. Perhaps he felt it too, because when he spoke, his voice was hesitant. “What were you dreaming of?”
“You.” The confession escaped before I could even think to hold it back, but the memory of the tenderness of his arms around me made it impossible to even attempt to lie.
