This is a follow on from 'One Thing' but you don't need to have read it to understand this. 4.21 broke me, really broke me, probably because real life sucks at the moment. As a result, this is the piece of warped Destiel angst that my brain created in an attempt to cope.
It is dedicated to Punk-Pirate-Princess, for her support and encouragements. This is for you Punky.
Disclaimer: I own convention tickets, nothing else. It's a bit depressing really.
Nothing.
Dean Winchester once thought that he knew something, knew it without a doubt and without a question. He has learnt that he does not know anything without a doubt and that there is no one in the world that he can rely on, not even himself. Not even his angel. The damn angel that he had fallen in love with and that had told him that the feelings were returned and welcomed and wanted. Now Castiel does not seem to have time for him and Dean feels more alone than ever.
Castiel once thought that he could be certain of things, that nothing could harm him as long as he believed in his Father and at the very least toed the line. Now all of his certainties had been shattered and the one thing, the one thing, that he has dared to take and claim for himself is strictly off limits, frowned upon in the highest sense and he does not know what to do. Does not know how to fix it, does not know how to make Dean understand and it is not merely heaven that his heart is beginning to doubt now, but he is also doubting himself, doubting his strength and his worth and his thoughts and emotions.
Dean used to think that love, real, soul mates love, was a myth, a lie that normal people told themselves so that they could make it through their lives and remain oblivious to all the pain and hurt in the world. Something that they could use to manipulate people around them into doing what they wanted them to. Lately his conviction in that opinion had wavered. Now, now, he was more convinced of it than ever. Because that thing that he had thought he knew, it had been founded on the lie that normal people told each other all the time.
Castiel could see the pain in the human that he had come to feel something deep and powerful and forbidden for, that he still felt for the man even though he has been told that it will not be tolerated. He needs to tell Dean though, needs to make the man understand even though the very act of telling Dean the reason would be an act of disobedience in and of itself. He cannot not tell him, because the pain that his actions have caused Dean makes his own soul scream in agony and he needs to say something, do something, because if he does not, he fears that the anguish that is claiming him will eventually be the undoing of him.
Dean has loved before, loved and lost and he should have known that the second time would end as badly as the first. But at least he did not have to see the object of his first love again, had only had to see her once more, with this love, this love he runs the risk that he will see him again. This love that he knew was forbidden, this love that he was so certain could not be, because despite the lengthily affair, Dean still knows that he is not gay, curious, but not gay. But even that does not stop the agony that fills him when he thinks of the past, of the love that he had thought could survive anything. Love that he had thought would survive the apocalypse, except it has not even survived that and he has lost the one thing that he had thought he could depend on, because angels were not supposed to be fickle.
Castiel realises it late one night, as he watches the place that Dean is in, feeling the strong, yet faltering, presence of his former lover calling to him even from the other side of the drive. Former lover, the words hurt, former, not because Castiel stopped loving him, but because he stopped expressing that love physically and verbally. He realises that he would have done the unthinkable, the one thing that he so despised Anna for doing, the one thing that he would never have considered, he would have fallen for Dean, if the human had asked it of him, Castiel would have fallen. Not out of desire, not out of love, or need, but out of selfishness, to free himself from the rule of his brothers and sisters even if it would have eventually meant his death. Death for disobedience, death for simply wanting more than to be the good son, the obedient soldier, death for wanting to be loved. He would have fallen for Dean, to be with Dean, to love him and to have him as his own. He knows that Dean would not have wanted it, would never have asked it and that ultimately Dean would end up blaming himself. Perhaps this was part of what his brethren had feared, but Castiel doubts that he knows the real answer to that.
Dean knows, now, with a certainty, that good things do not come to him, they do not happen to him, they never have and they never will. He lies and stares at the ceiling, listens to the not silence of Bobby's house, guilt and fear and pain gnaw at him and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, things would have been different if he and Sam had moved faster. Maybe he would not have lost the one thing that he had come to really rely on. Because it all hurts, it just hurts so damn much. His brother, his brother turning into some kind of monster and not even realising it. Castiel. Castiel turning his back on him, leaving him, not coming when he is called nor meeting at the agreed time. Castiel turning into the cold dick that Dean had been scared that he would.
Castiel knows that he has made a mistake. He should not have acquiesced to his superiors demands, he should have turned his back on them, should have risked punishment. Because he had hurt Dean in a way that he never thought that he could. Has broken Dean's faith and convinced him that he is alone and that there is no love in the universe and he cannot go to him, cannot go and try to fix the mistake. He does not know which hurts more, the pain that he knows he is causing Dean, or the pain that he is causing himself, only that it is overwhelming and blinding and he knows that he cannot be certain of anything anymore. Knows that he cannot fix this, no matter what he wants or needs or how loudly his soul screams.
Dean knows that he relies on Castiel, knows that he feels too much for him, that he left himself open to the angel. Everything he loved is gone. Even Bobby looks at him differently now and Dean does not know that Sam will ever forgive him. He has nothing, nothing that is his, nothing that he can have. He is alone, more so than he has ever been, and it hurts, it burns and he knows, just knows, that he was never meant to have anything. Not a single thing for himself, because he has never deserved it, deserves nothing more than he already gets. Nothing.
Reviews are little Castiels that fly above our heads and mini Deans under the bed. A small Sam in hand and a tiny John by the chair, a review that can show how much you care.
Artemis