hello, guys, how are you doing? i'm so glad to see ya'll again. here a one shot for you.
i always wondered why they didn't talk much about the famine incident in season 4, but maybe that was what drove dean to want to say yes to michael in a sense. it's never fun to be said that you're probably dead inside anyway, so why care about the end of the world? why care of an angel possessing your ass? of course dean is not alone in this mess (at least, i hope so)
hope you'll enjoy this
spn is not mine, sadly. when will those sonovabitches will kiss already?
and of course, my lovely beta, whipped by an angel, whom without her i would crush and burn, literary... not.
awkward... okay, moving on...
Summery: how does it really feels after being said by a horseman that you're dead? well, Dean certainly knows how it feels
"You have to talk to me, Dean," Sam cornered said hunter a week after they confronted Famine, one of the four horsemen. Sam had been detoxing all this time in the panic room and Dean had never felt worse in his life… well, maybe expect for one particular feeling he kept getting, but he won't go there.
"You can't hide forever from me," Sam bitchfaced at him when Dean told him nicely to 'fuck off'.
"Yeah, I can and I will," Dean grumbled and slammed the door behind him.
The older hunter bristled as he walked down the street, kicking anything that was big enough to kick. He couldn't face Sam yet, not until he is capable of pushing that away.
He clutched at his chest, the place aching as if was hollow.
"Have you wondered why that is? How you can even walk in my presence?"
"I like to think it's because of my strength of character."
"I disagree. Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark, nothing you got there Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food, or drink, not even with sex."
"Oh, you're so full of crap."
"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, and lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you Dean! I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting, just keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already dead."
Well… at least now he knows what he really is… he needs a drink. His legs walked him to a small, neat bar with a sign saying 'Heaven Bar' and he cursed at the irony. But he needs to get wasted like yesterday, so he pushed the door open and walked in.
"Hello, handsome." A woman leaned lewdly at the counter toward the hunter, her cleavage showing generously from her tight fit uniform. Dean eyed her but didn't feel anything, so he only sighed and asked her for their strongest drink. The woman frowned but went back to get him Jack Daniel's with rocks. Dean snatched the glass and gulped it down, enjoying the burn going down his throat.
He needed to feel something. To know that that son of a bitch horseman wasn't right about him. He fucking needs to do something to fill the void in his chest. He chocked and asked for another round.
Two hours and many different types of drinks later, Dean was finally wasted, just like he wanted. Luckily, it was still early so he wasn't in danger of getting kicked out.
"Hey… are you okay?" The same woman from before petted his head affectionately, her demeanor changing from lewd to motherly. What was her name? Oh right… Mary. Dammit, he hated ironies. He wanted to die, but Sammy still needs him, maybe Cas too… he hoped so. He really is tired, or wasted, he couldn't decide yet.
"'m fucken' p'rf'ct," Dean slurred, grumpy.
"You know… we don't know each other, so you can tell me anything and I won't judge or tell anyone about it, okay?"
Dean looked up to her with glazed but still suspicious eyes. "Wh' 'sit te ya?"
The woman simply smiled. "Just want to please my costumer."
"Th'nks, bu' no th'nks," Dean pushed the glass and stood up, his instincts kicking in to keep him upwards, but he still wavered.
"Whoa, be careful," Mary exclaimed but the hunter ignored her and tottered to the exit, slamming a door for the second time that day.
Dean slumped in a deserted alley, falling onto his rear on the ground and looked up to the gray sky. Then he felt a droplet of water hit his face and slowly, more and more droplets fell from the sky, quickly wetting him to the core.
Dean blinked and hot tears fell and mingled with the rain, thankfully hiding his grief from the world. His chest heaving and empty… He can't do this anymore.
He was so fuckin' tired of all this shit. He just wants to rest… preferably forever. But no hell or heaven, he can't stand any of them. He just wants oblivion to claim him.
"Cas… Sammy…"
His eyes closed when a fluttering of wings was heard and one particular angel of the lord stood in front of the sleeping hunter with an unreadable expression on his face. Castiel crouched in front of Dean and frowned as he noted the tense creases and posture of the hunter, which, even in wasteland, weren't smoothed over. He sighed and cupped Dean's face, draining the alcohol from his system slowly as to not place the body in shock.
"You really need to take care of yourself, you asshat," Castiel sighed again and pressed two fingers to the hunter's forehead, sending him back to the hotel room.
The next morning, Dean groggily woke up, wondering why he felt better than usual. Then he remembered getting wasted the day before and got even more confused as to why he didn't have a hangover.
"Dean." He looked up to see a distressed Sam sitting at his bedside, his face scrunched in a kicked-puppy face. He looked… disappointed?
"Hey…" He slurred. "What got your panties in a twist, Sammy?"
The face turned to a scowl and Sam grumbled, "Gee, I don't know. How about walking into the room and see you sprawled on the bed, reeking of alcohol and obviously wasted beyond recognition?"
"Just a regular night in the life of a hunter," Dean shrugged, burying his face further into the pillow. "'m tired."
"Dean, you have to talk to someone before you do something stupid," Sam snapped.
"Isn't that what I always do? Do something stupid?" Dean eyed him, his chest aching again. "So what's new?"
His brother scoffed and folded his arms. "Talk to me, Dean, please."
"No."
Sam growled in frustration and stomped out of the room. Dean watched him leave and sighed again, letting his eyes droop close once more when, suddenly, Famine's words punched into him, just like last night, and he sat up swiftly, eyes screwed shut in pain and denial.
"I'm not like that… I'm not," He fisted the sheets and gritted his teeth. "Dammit!"
He stopped, then sighed and relaxed, letting the fists release their death-grip at the sheets. He rolled on his back to look at the ceiling, trying hard not to let tears escape his eyes. He will not let that mother-fucker get to him. He wasn't a fucking girl for crying out loud!
…Crap…
He was sitting on the bed when Castiel had found him, looking at his hands that were lying limply on his knees.
"Hey… Cas?" Dean's voice was barely above a whisper and Castiel looked at him in wonder. "Am I really… dead?"
The angel tilted his head. "From what I see, your body functions just fine."
"Gee, thank you, captain obvious," Dean wasn't up for any games.
"…I don't know what you mean."
"Dammit, Cas! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Dean shouted at him in rage, head snapping up to meet with Castiel's eyes.
"Dean…" The pain in the angel's eyes was good enough for him to confirm his thoughts.
"Then Famine was right… I really am dead inside…" The hunter slumped and hung his head down once again, eyes glazing over. His fists clenched tight. "Then what am I? Why am I still here? That's why I made such a perfect vessel for Michael, isn't it? 'Cuz I'm 'empty inside'? Do I have a nice, comfortable emptiness for that son of a bitch to reside in?" When he received only silence as an answer he snapped, "Just fuckin' tell me, Cas!" He yanked on his hair, eyes screwed shut in despair, his walls threatening to crumble down.
The hunter felt the bed sink slightly as the angel sat by him and a warm hand was placed on his shoulder blade, close to the handprint branded on his left arm.
"You're not dead inside, Dean. Nor empty," Castiel muttered and Dean relaxed a bit.
"Then why wasn't I being affected by Famine?"
"Well… you did say you were well-fed."
Dean looked up and saw a small smile on the angel's face. "I'm a really bad influence on you, you sarcastic pigeon."
"I'm not a bird, Dean. We do share few elements, but we're not the same. I thought I had told you that already." Castiel shrugged, playing along.
Dean stifled a chuckle and straightened up to ruffle Castiel's hair. "You're really weird."
"See?" Castiel smiled at him a rare smile. Dean tilted his head at him, confused. "Here, right there."
"What?" Dean narrowed his eyes and looked behind him in suspicion.
"You're laughing, Dean." Dean's head snapped to him. "If you were 'empty' inside, you wouldn't be able to laugh, to get angry. To put it simply, if you were indeed 'empty', you wouldn't be able to feel any 'feelings'," The angel air quoted with a deadpan.
"You really don't know how to use air-quotes, do ya?" Dean looked away, pushing down the blush threatening to come up.
Castiel frowned and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, touching the covered handprint, "Don't try to change the conversation, Dean. You're neither empty nor dead inside. You still have that same bright soul I had witnessed when I raised you from perdition, and, at times, it's even brighter. You're the Righteous Man, after all."
"Wow, what a way to make a girl blush, Cas," Dean grumbled, but didn't push the hand away. It kind of felt nice but he wasn't going to admit that to the angel beside him. over his dead body. "So that son of a bitch Famine was lying?"
"Perhaps he was confused why you weren't affected. Famine is capable on seeing the hunger of a man but maybe that's the only thing he sees? Maybe with you he saw nothing because you don't hunger for anything?"
Dean considered that. That was a good point and he felt a smile creep into his face as he relaxed, realizing that maybe Famine was wrong. Castiel sensed this and his smile grew, then he did something startling…he wrapped his arms around Dean.
"Wha-what the hell?!" To say that Dean was freaking out was an understatement of the decade, he was freaking out of his skin. "Why are you hugging me, Cas?!"
"That's what humans do to comfort other humans, no?" Castiel tilted his head, tightening his arms around the hunter. "And I find myself calmed by it as well."
Dean sighed in exasperation. "You don't do that with oth… never mind."
Castiel knew what he wanted to say, though, and frowned. "Dean, I'm an angel, therefore genderless. I only happened to be in a male vessel."
"I know, Cas… your point?" The hunter eyed him, fighting himself from squirming in the embrace. Damn, he really hated chick-flick moments. At least Castiel couldn't see his face with this position.
"I won't care if you'll let yourself be vulnerable before me. I know all of you, after all. I was the one to mend your broken soul back in hell," Castiel said, uncertainty laced lightly in his tone, which was unusual for the angel of the lord. At that moment, Dean understood that Castiel meant every word he said and that that hug wasn't some fucked up act to find out his weaknesses but to help him and show the hunter that he wasn't alone in this mess.
For the first time in a very long time, Dean had found a place to be… himself, good and bad. Being Sam's caretaker, he couldn't let himself show vulnerability. Being Dad's little soldier meant that he couldn't seek comfort and warmth from John. The fact that he was raised with the idea of repressing every feeling and showing only his strengths made him ignore the need to express his own fears and uncertainties, which led to all the lying and the fallouts he had with many people up until this point. But to Castiel, every fear, every need… wait a moment…
'I think I know why Famine didn't find out what I was hungering for…' Dean's eyes widened up.
"Why?" Dean jumped at the sound of Castiel, not realizing that he had said that out loud.
"Dean?" Castiel pulled back and looked at him intently.
Dean looked away. "Nothing…"
"Dean…" The angel's stare turned to a glare and the hunter knew better than anger the former 'angel of the lord'.
"I just… I just never realized how much I was pushing down my… my feelings," Dean felt violated as the words escaped his lips and he shuddered a bit. "I think… that I never let myself want something… and then it translated to Famine as 'empty' or something like that…" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I really fuckin' hate talking about those things… can we drop this already?"
Castiel nodded and Dean had found himself once again in the angel's arms. "Cas! I told you to drop this!"
"The subject, Dean." The hunter swore he had just heard a friggin' smirk in the angel's tone, what the hell had he been teaching the poor lad? "I want to hug you, Dean. Is there any problem with that?" Now Dean knew what that tone meant; don't you dare contradict me, or I'll smite you.
Resigning himself to his fate, Dean slumped in the angel's arms, and can't help but feel… better. He raised his arms and wrapped them shakily around Castiel, bracing himself for the shove. But Castiel only seemed to relax, and only now did the hunter notice how stiff the angel was before. It appears Dean wasn't the only one to be nervous about this whole ordeal, which actually added to Dean's relief. Yeah, that confused him as well.
"You tell me not to worry, and you were freaking out like a girl this whole time?" Dean chuckled, his forehead against the angel's shoulder. "Hypocrite much."
"I guess that the correct phrase to this is 'busted'," Castiel shrugged and his chest vibrated with his silent laughs. Dean rolled his eyes and jabbed a finger at the angel's back. "Damn straight you are. Now get off of me, chuckle-head."
"No." Castiel's tone was firm.
"Cas…" Dean countered with a warning. "Off. Now."
"No." Dean felt the arms tightening and he groaned in frustration.
"Why not?" Dean closed his eyes in defeat. Castiel didn't answer but Dean felt prickling warmth from the handprint on his shoulder spreading throughout his body, making him groggy. "Cas…?"
"Shh… I'm just using my brand on you to give you some rest from the events today. Even if you won't tell me, I know you're still troubled over what Famine said."
Dean choked, muffled by trench coat. "Cas… I don't like this… please stop." He can't let the angel rid him of all of his walls. He won't be able to keep himself together if he would. The flashes of hell are still fresh in his consciousness, a year not enough to fade the forty years of torture, both ways. The guilt of failing his brother and the hurt when he had learned of Sam's retreat to demon blood, to Ruby still gnawing in him. The guilt over letting Adam become Michael's vessel. His father's death, that no matter what anyone said, was his fault – if he had only warded his father against possession, if only he was stronger, if only he wasn't friggin' dying, again. The pain when he felt his brother's grief over Jess' death. The pain and hollowness Sam left behind when he went to Stanford. His childhood being pushed aside for Sam, for Dad and for hunting. The want to be normal crushed when he witnessed his classmate die in a Halloween party after a dare to summon a ghost. The fire and his mother on the ceiling, and running outside with his baby brother in his arms, who was unknowing of the world crushing around them.
"Dean…" Castiel's voice brought the hunter's mind back to the surface and green eyes looked up to see blue, concerned eyes piercing into him. "Shh… it's okay, Dean. Everything is going to be alright."
"No, it's not, Cas." Dean hated how his voice cracked at the name. "I started this whole mess. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to be alive! We haven't got a clue on how to stop Lucifer from trying to get into Sam or to kill him! I didn't save Adam from Michael when I had the chance! I fucking left him in that room, to the mercy of that dick Michael! I was the one who brought Sam back when it was clear I was only dooming him! I'm the worst brother or son of a bitch that ever walked on this fucking earth! I still don't understand how you deemed ME to be worthy of saving from hell! I'm nothing! WORTHLESS!" He shouted. "Famine was right on everything! I'm a fucking NOTHING!"
"DEAN!" A fist was connected with his jaw and he fell back on the bed, stunned. He held his jaw as he stared at the fuming angel. Castiel looked, at this moment, like that of an avenging angel, one he saw in pictures; righteousness and rage hardening his face. Strong hands gripped his collar and he was raised toward the angel, who looked even angrier then possible. "I dare you to say another word, Dean Winchester." Castiel's voice was lowered to an eerie calm tone. "Just try me... you assbutt!" The angel growled, his grip on Dean's collar tightening, almost chocking said hunter.
"Cas…" Dean tried to say, only to have the grip tighten even more and he gasped for air. "Fuckin' release me, Cas!" He held the hands holding him. "I understand, dammit! Fuck, I'm sorry!"
The hands released him and he fell back onto the bed, coughing and taking huge gulps of air, his own hands reaching up to cover his throat protectively. "What the hell, Cas?" He grunted.
Castiel frowned at him. "I do not like it when you're talking about yourself like this."
Dean glared at him, but then sighed and moved his arms to cover his eyes, "Whatever…"
"Dean…"
"No. I'm sorry I made you feel this way, but… you can't expect me to stay calm when you make me weak… you're family to me, but you know I can't…" He took a shuddering breath and felt tears prickle from his and he pushed them back, forcing himself to calm down. He felt a hand on his palms and tensed.
"Don't fear me, Dean… please."
"I'm don't-" His statement was ruined when he tensed even more when he felt another hand cup his cheek. "Just don't… I don't want to find rest…"
"Your soul is saying otherwise." Castiel's voice was soft and the hunter felt the angel sit by him on the bed again and the hands moved away only for two arms to wrap around him. Dean jumped but Castiel's hummed a bit and the hunter reluctantly turned to the angel and let himself be awkwardly cuddled by the other man.
Slowly, Dean felt himself fall into a content haze and finally slumped against the angel's chest. When Castiel chuckled a bit, Dean rolled his eyes and poked his chest, surprised when the angel squirmed a bit and chuckled even more.
"Cas… are you ticklish?" He wondered. "I thought that the angels didn't feel the vessel."
"To some extant, we don't." Castiel blushed lightly. "But they are some functions of the body that I let run, like breathing, eating, and yes… tickling," He stared into Dean's eyes intently, daring him to say anything about it.
Yep, Dean has been a bad influence on the angel.
"Well… glad you told me this." Dean smirked and the angel blanched.
"What are you planning to do, Dean?" He asked, inching away from the hunter.
Dean shrugged, grinning evilly. "Nothing dangerous," He said in a sing-song tone, flexing his fingers.
"I'm warning you, Dean." Castiel apparently grasped his real intention and sat up, ready to move away when Dean tackled him to the ground, attacking him with his fingers.
The angel was giving off the hardest laugh the hunter had ever heard him and Dean felt his grin widen when the angel gulped in air as he tried to push the hunter off of him. "Sto-stop th-that! I-I can't! Dean!" Castiel laughed and squirmed, swatting the hands away only for Dean to laugh and attack him again, enjoying the foreign scene unfolding before him.
"No way, I'm having too much fun here!" Dean laughed loudly. "To finally have a weapon against you is priceless! Now brace yourself, chuckle-head." He was about to move to the neck when Castiel finally got a grip of himself and zapped behind Dean.
"I warned you, Dean." Castiel was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed, his clothes ruffled and his hair all over the place.
Dean grinned and stood before the angel, his fingers ready to attack when the door was slammed open and a very manly gasp made them turn to the door where a very manly shocked Sam was standing.
"Sammy?" Dean blinked.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam exclaimed and swiftly moved to stand between him and Castiel.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, perplexed.
"What do you mean 'what are you talking about?' You were molesting Cas, for god's sake!"
…
"Huh?" Both males asked. Dean was gaping while Castiel just tilted his head.
"Don't bullshit me!" Sam bitchfaced at him and pointed at the ragged looking angel. "What does it look like to you?"
"Like he just came out of a tickling match?" Dean supplied, irritated. Well, it was the truth so you can't sue him for that.
"Haha, nice one." Sam snorted. "Cas isn't ticklish."
"Actually… I am." Castiel volunteered.
"Not helping, Cas. I'm trying to make my stupid brother understand he can't jump on everything that moves."
"Well… he did tickle me a lot."
Dean deadpanned. "Not helping, Cas. Sammy, I just found out he was ticklish, so I… tickled him, okay?" He sighed, knowing his brother would take it the wrong way, and people say he was the horny one? Actually… don't answer that.
"Dean! Cas doesn't understand those things like you do." Sam was horrified. "I thought you had more dignity than that!"
"I didn't have sex with him for Christ's sake! Dude! What the hell is wrong with your fucking head?" Dean snapped. "I tickled him for fuck's sake! Point blank! Stop being such a bitch about it! I don't tickle him that way!"
"Is that true?" Sam turned to Castiel.
"Dean did tickle me, in the chest and neck," Castiel said blankly. "If you meant it in a sexual way, then no, he did not 'tickle' me."
"Oh thank god," Sam sighed and turned to sheepishly grin at his brother. "Sorry?"
"Sam…" Dean glared at him, fire in his eyes. "You have five seconds before I set your ass on fire, are we clear? Good. Five-"
Sam's eyes widened and he quickly went to the door and on 'one', he slammed the door behind him.
Dean sighed and sat back on the bed. "Fuck damn it! I sometimes wish I could just salt and burn the bitch without trying to kill myself afterwards," He complained.
"He was looking after me." Castiel shrugged, looking a bit disgruntled, which was a bit unusual. "But that kind of ruined it…" He sat on the bed by Dean and sighed.
"You okay there, man?" Dean placed a hand on the angel's shoulder.
Castiel nodded. "It was… nice… to see you laugh again," He admitted.
Dean became solemn. He wasn't exactly mister sunshine, but apparently his 'angelic' friend did notice his even worse mood. "Sorry 'bout it, man."
"No need. There was simply… no reason to, right?" Castiel sighed again and stared intently at him, tilting his head to get a better view. Dean stared back and after a while gave up and looked away, his shoulders drooping.
"I'm sorry, Cas… for everything. And… thanks…"
A small smile danced on the angel's lips and he closed his eyes. "You don't have any reason to be sorry, but I accept it."
Dean glared at him. "Can't you just say it bluntly? I fucked up and you're forgiving me for that, end of story."
"What can I say? I love getting 'you feathers ruffled'." Dean blanched. Castiel was actually smirking. He was friggin' smirking! While doing air quotes!
"That's it! I knew you weren't a real angel," Dean grumbled, pointing an accusing finger at the smirking angel.
"Sorry, Dean. I'm still the angel of the lord you knew." Castiel shrugged.
"Shut up, chuckle-head. You're worse than Sammy."
"I doubt that. After all, I'm not being chased at the moment by a murderous righteous man."
"I hate you."
"You do a great job at hiding it, then."
"Shut up."
"No."
"Shut. Up."
Castiel shrugged. "What are you going to do about it, then?"
"This." The angel was being pushed to the bed and Dean started tickling him again. Castiel laughed loudly as he squirmed under Dean's fingers.
"D-Dean!" Castiel huffed and tried to push Dean from him. The struggle went for a while until Castiel fell onto the ground with Dean following suit.
"Jesus, that hurts," Dean cursed as he rose on his knees and elbows and looked down to see the angel trapped under him. "Uh… sorry, Cas," He flushed. Awkward…
The angel simply glared at him, very humanly so, which kind of creeps Dean out. "You should have thought of that before, assbutt."
Dean grinned shyly, and shuffled to extract himself from Castiel, his face burning up and he cursed himself from letting the moment get to him.
"Are you okay, Dean?" Castiel sat up, his head tilted to the side in confusion. Dean shrugged and looked away, not wanting the angel to see him in this state.
"Dean…" Their temporary sanctuary broken, it seems.
"We should head back," Dean grunted, punching himself mentally. "We need to figure out a way to stop the apocalypse and kill Lucifer."
"Wait." The so humanly, again, plea made the hunter freeze and turn to the angel. Castiel looked unsure of himself as he treaded to where Dean stood and stood before him for a moment before Dean's eyes grew wide as he felt two soft lips press against his for a brief moment.
He blinked and the angel was gone.
"That bastard," Dean cursed, his face beet red, before going out and slamming the door behind him (that's three), causing to the hinges to break slightly.