Old Truths in a New Life
The day draws to close yet again and night quickly falls. The street, one that could be any other street with parked cars, picket fences a the occasional cat, is abandoned; the man standing in the doorway to his house has made sure that the street is abandoned before he deadbolts the door closed and checks the security system, a tiny electrical pad that is to protect them.
No salt
No symbols written on the wall
He trusts his life with a scrap of metal, a piece of plastic and blinking lights. It is a strange feeling, one that he doubts he will ever to get used to even if he has to. It's been months but it is still an abnormal ritual to get used to. Salt circles, heavenly chanting and hex bags were normal, they were routine and simple but a bolt on a door…a bolt on a door is just another reminder of the life he had missed out on over the years. A life he was now living because of a promise to his brother.
He turns away from the door and slowly walks through the house before he begins the walk up the staircase. When the house is silent like this, when everyone else is asleep, there is nothing to stop the slew of memories hitting him square in the chest and causing him physical pain.
Running from a burning house clutching his baby brother
His father's face before his death
Sam's face after Jessica's death
Saying goodbye to Jo and Ellen before the hellhounds
Castiel…Castiel returning to heaven
They swarm in his brain, in his soul, threatening to consume him but he does not allow them to. He has been going for these months…he can carry on. But then the other memories start and these are given worse.
Driving along a lengthy highway, music blaring from the old cassette and the sun beaming down
Sitting on the car bonnet and cracking open a beer, his smiling brother next to him
Bobby's sarcasm
Castiel's rare jokes
The height jokes directed at Sam
The laughter, the smiles and the endless jokes…
They're all gone now, all gone and never to return.
When he walks into the bedroom he looks over at the sleeping figure for a moment. This is the life that he has chosen now, this is the life that Sam wanted for him and he should honour Sam's memory by living this life. He cannot lie to himself by saying this was what he truly wanted, yes he wanted a family but has…he had a family. He had a life. He had things he had wanted to say, things that he could have said but never did because of fear. The fear of losing people he loved. Sometimes these thoughts, these little truths, cling to him making it hard to breathe but he has to resist them. This is his life now, those old truths would not have fit in this life…
Now he passes the bedroom window and out of habit looks outside just to make sure. There is nothing, there has been nothing out there for months and as far as Dean Winchester knows there always will be nothing out there.
In the shadows of the street a man stands and watches just like he has these past months. The man inside the house, the man he once called Dean, moves away from the window and into the darkness of the house.
Dean dead bolted the door. This would amuse the man but instead it just chips away at his soul just like every other night that he has stood here and watched he house. There once was a time when Dean could scoff at a dead bolt and would have made a comment about it being the last thing to keep out the dead but now he trusted his life with it. It would have been amusing but this just proved how much the man called Dean had changed. How his old life, the one the man outside knew so well, was gone.
The man moves slowly and for a moment the street lamp casts light onto his body. The dark hair is mussed up like always and the trench coat is the same always but the man is different…he has changed beyond recognition and if he ever let Dean see him again he knew that Dean would not realise it was him.
Moving away from the light he sits down on a nearby bench and looks back up to the house with his, now cold, blue eyes. He knows even sitting on the bench, even being in the current state he was in, was against the rules but this is the only comfort he has left in this world. There is nothing else he could do.
The past months have not been kind; they have not been kind by any means. The onslaught up in heaven, the steady slew of memories crashing into his skull and the physical ache from not being on earth had driven him to coming here.
He hates himself seep down for this. He has hated himself for ever agreeing to grip onto a man's shoulder and pull him from the deep bowel of hell. All of this pain he was feeling was because of what he had done…he had done it all for Dean…all of it.
Everything he had done though had not been enough and there was one thing he should have, everything that he could have done and desperately longed to have done but he never did. He had thought they had time, he had thought that they had years but that was never the case.
It would have taken mere moments to tell Dean, mere moments, but now…now there was no hope. There was no possible way of Dean knowing this one tiny bit of truth that was consuming someone's life. Dean's life had changed; his life was normal and true now. The truth would not be right anymore, the truth would be normal and the truth would not work.
Castiel's love for Dean, the love of an angel towards a human, would not work in the world that Dean now possessed. All he can do now was sit and try to protect this man he loved from afar until the inevitable day of their ending came.
Author's Note: I have no idea what this even is but I wrote it while on the train watching the first episode of season six the ther day and I thought I would post it up anyway. This is my first ever attempt at writing anything Destiel and I am really resisting the urge to write an AU fic for them because I need to finish my other fics before I even think about writing anything else...anyway, feedback would be nice...