[ dean expects mockery, even if he knows cas not to be one to lower himself to that. there's a lot he's heard and seen the other man say and do, but not that. not with him, not with something like this. still, the lack of bitter words, chosen to hurt him is what eventually prompts dean to speak up even if he doesn't look at cas.
there's no easy to way put any of it, so he just goes for the bottom line, much like has become his habit over the years. ]
I shot him.
[ i killed him. i killed sam. it's entirely devoid of any feeling, neither laced with anger or sadness-- just nothing. like stating an obvious, every day fact. he'd shot sam thinking it was lucifer, his brother was dead, and it was his fault.
but jesus, does he hate himself, and it only shows in the way his hands clutch tighter at each other from where they rest in his lap. ]
[ There is it. So very black and white, no details or necessary explanations because, as far as he is concerned, there need to be none at all. It had been so much easier to understand each other years ago, when he'd been an angel and Dean a man. Now, not so much close friends as they are leader and follower, it's much too complicated to put at ease.
Not entirely mindful of the dirt or the proximity, Castiel shifts and drops to a knee for better leverage. So he can look at him closely, an attempt to read what he can no longer truly see. ]
He will come back.
[ It's not reassuring. It's not even kind. It's as simple a fact as the one Dean had given him, though he's offering more to him by stretching out a hand and gently placing it over those tight in his lap. ]
I thought he- [ his voice doesn't sound quite like it should though, so he bites the rest back. it had never supposed to have been sam. he's been hunting the devil for so long now, has seen what that thing has done to his brother's body, how its walked around wearing the face of the one and only person dearest to dean. he'd long since given up on hoping that there might be some way to get sam back, that one day he might be whole again with sam by his side. no, it had turned into a single goal orientated mission; kill lucifer.
no saving sam when there was no sam to be saved.
and yet here-- here he'd managed to shoot him not too many weeks into their stay.
dean wants to laugh at it all, yet the warmth of cas' hand over his startles him. ]
You don't know that. [ it would be the ultimate punishment now if sam didn't come back. he deserves it tenfold, has little hope of his brother's return. he'd lost sam years ago due to poor decisions, so what would change now that he'd finally, to the very last detail, been the one to snuff him out? ]
[ And Castiel had been right beside him the entire time. There might have been those wavering moments when he'd gotten too drunk or too stoned to really pay attention to half the things around him, but he'd never allowed it to compromise his judgement as far as missions went. He had given Dean everything, even walked right toward his death without hesitation to see this goal of theirs (his) come to fruition. Yet, here they are now, burdened with a reality neither of them had ever seen coming.
He had thought Sam to be Lucifer. He knows this.
Even if it is not within his power to right the mistake of ending Sam's life, he can be here and offer what he can. It's surprising Dean hasn't pushed him away, taking it as a sign, and Castiel's fingers tighten a fraction more, unwilling to remove himself in an effort to reach through that impenetrable wall. ]
I have heard they do. [ He would ask for his trust, but he supposes he still hasn't earned that after what had happened in the church. ] We should wait.
[ Meaning he's not going anywhere. Even if Dean gives the order, he's going to stay and sit this through as he has done every day for the past five years. He wants to say so many other things to him, that they will fix this, that Castiel won't leave him (he never would), but it's too much with the weight of Sam's death hanging over them both. He stays quiet. ]
[ dean wants to push him away, but he's too tired. it's as if everything is finally becoming too much, dragging down the normally hard lines of his shoulders with invisible weight and pushing away cas is the last thing on his mind. all he sees is his brother falling, too much blood pouring out of him, not getting up, not vanishing like the other hallucinations...
he's not sure what he feels, only that it's more than unpleasant, makes him feel sick to the very core. ]
If he doesn't- [ do you know what that means?
he looks at cas then, finally. face a crumbling composure of its former walls, the pain radiating through despite how he tries to not let it. he can't keep contact for long, lets his eyes drop away with a sharp inhale. ]
You shouldn't be here. This isn't your mess, not anymore.
[ 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. ]
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--
[ 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
indecadence) wrote2013-05-24 08:48 pm
action.
there's no easy to way put any of it, so he just goes for the bottom line, much like has become his habit over the years. ]
I shot him.
[ i killed him. i killed sam. it's entirely devoid of any feeling, neither laced with anger or sadness-- just nothing. like stating an obvious, every day fact. he'd shot sam thinking it was lucifer, his brother was dead, and it was his fault.
but jesus, does he hate himself, and it only shows in the way his hands clutch tighter at each other from where they rest in his lap. ]
action.
Not entirely mindful of the dirt or the proximity, Castiel shifts and drops to a knee for better leverage. So he can look at him closely, an attempt to read what he can no longer truly see. ]
He will come back.
[ It's not reassuring. It's not even kind. It's as simple a fact as the one Dean had given him, though he's offering more to him by stretching out a hand and gently placing it over those tight in his lap. ]
action.
I thought he- [ his voice doesn't sound quite like it should though, so he bites the rest back. it had never supposed to have been sam. he's been hunting the devil for so long now, has seen what that thing has done to his brother's body, how its walked around wearing the face of the one and only person dearest to dean. he'd long since given up on hoping that there might be some way to get sam back, that one day he might be whole again with sam by his side. no, it had turned into a single goal orientated mission; kill lucifer.
no saving sam when there was no sam to be saved.
and yet here-- here he'd managed to shoot him not too many weeks into their stay.
dean wants to laugh at it all, yet the warmth of cas' hand over his startles him. ]
You don't know that. [ it would be the ultimate punishment now if sam didn't come back. he deserves it tenfold, has little hope of his brother's return. he'd lost sam years ago due to poor decisions, so what would change now that he'd finally, to the very last detail, been the one to snuff him out? ]
action.
He had thought Sam to be Lucifer. He knows this.
Even if it is not within his power to right the mistake of ending Sam's life, he can be here and offer what he can. It's surprising Dean hasn't pushed him away, taking it as a sign, and Castiel's fingers tighten a fraction more, unwilling to remove himself in an effort to reach through that impenetrable wall. ]
I have heard they do. [ He would ask for his trust, but he supposes he still hasn't earned that after what had happened in the church. ] We should wait.
[ Meaning he's not going anywhere. Even if Dean gives the order, he's going to stay and sit this through as he has done every day for the past five years. He wants to say so many other things to him, that they will fix this, that Castiel won't leave him (he never would), but it's too much with the weight of Sam's death hanging over them both. He stays quiet. ]
action.
he's not sure what he feels, only that it's more than unpleasant, makes him feel sick to the very core. ]
If he doesn't- [ do you know what that means?
he looks at cas then, finally. face a crumbling composure of its former walls, the pain radiating through despite how he tries to not let it. he can't keep contact for long, lets his eyes drop away with a sharp inhale. ]
You shouldn't be here. This isn't your mess, not anymore.
[ the mission, all of it, it's over with this. ]
action.
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. ]
action.
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. ]
action.
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. ]
action.
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. ]