indecadence | [ic contact]

[ He doesn't know whether or not he's supposed to be grateful that Dean is letting him go. It's over. Their mission, the one singular goal they had strived to finish for years. But Castiel had put that aside the moment he'd woken to the sound of a train and had found himself here. It's a twisted afterlife, riddled with doubt and guilt and the pain of living. This isn't what it's supposed to be, and fate or not, he'd chosen this.

Once again, he moves, but it's not until Dean looks away, can't seem to hold his gaze as he'd used to. There's no comment about it, understanding in the way he lowers himself and sits beside him. Castiel is aware how their shoulders touch, but it's not more than that, having taken back his hand to rest them both in his lap. ]

You called, and I came. I won't leave you, Dean.

[ As it has always been, and he will not change it now. It's an echo of an old promise buried beneath death and blood, but it is one he will keep until he couldn't possibly anymore. ]

CONTACT: sam.winchester@compass.net
MESSAGE: Yeah, I am.

[ Theres a pause before he follows up with a new text. ]

I ended up playing on the ship. Some people got hurt.

[ you should run, cas.

part of dean wants to get up, force castiel to leave. but then, another enjoys the solid warmth of their joined shoulders, something he'll never admit to the other man. cas has stood by him for so long, even after everything-- even now. he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve to be breathing right now and he wishes -- prays -- that he could simply go back to the death he's already experienced once.

dean's looking away, off at the graves when he speaks up. ]

Stupid. So stupid.

[ despite the words, his tone is lighter by a fraction. not fond, he doesn't know fond anymore, but just a hint less rough. still, his shoulder sag suddenly, another harsher breath falling from him. the realization of his actions come in waves, the size of it all crushing--

all until he steadies himself again. ]

CONTACT: cas@compass.net
MESSAGE: They made that choice. Could you have stopped them?

[ If he runs, what good will it do? He would end up the same as he'd always been - a coward who refused to stand firm and fix the mistakes he had made. Even if they are Dean's, he refuses to turn from him. Now, more than ever, he needs a friend, and Castiel finds some reassurance in that.

He sits for a while in the silence, gaze rolling over the stones and the particular quietness of the place. Perhaps it's meant to be peaceful, soothing. Yet, there is nothing but tarnished memories in a place like this, and what little he has to offer is already tumbling around in his head to no avail. He wants... to explain so much to him. To say that Sam would forgive him, that he simply had no understanding of what it is they'd lived through.

Yet, he doesn't know that to be true. It's all uncertainty. ]

I know.

[ He means he's sorry. Sorry for failing, for being useless, for not being there when he needed him. For so many other things that he could have prevented if he'd only been strong enough, capable enough. He'd allowed his best friend to become... this. He'd allowed himself to become this. Castiel swallows hard, hesitant but sure as he places his hand on Dean's forearm.

The touch is light, the squeeze even lighter. But it's there, and it's all he can give. ]

[ dean can't ask for anything from the other man, won't. the touch would normally have him shaking it off with anger, harsh words spat in cas' face. this time though, it's much like their joined shoulders; a comforting thing despite how he doesn't acknowledge it.

cas is stupid, so stupid, and dean should have listened to him. there used to be mutual trust there, with their bond, where dean would take the other man's words with the importance he still knows they carry. now though, it's all been his way or the highway, with cas siding with lucifer -- sam, he'd already almost killed him in the church too, jesus -- being the final straw.

he should have done so much, he should have never doubted cas.

the words -- apologies -- are at the tip of his tongue and yet they don't come. he sits in silence, not shaking off the other man but not offering anything else either.

they've got plenty of waiting to do. ]