Yeah this is my idea of how Castiel comes back with of course Destiel pre-slash mixed in, this can be read as a one shot but if people want me to make it a chapter story with actual slash. It's got a lot of angst in this chapter, I tried to make Dean stay in character and I hope I have done that... let me know if you want me to continue to make it a chapter story. And yes I got the title from Lady Gaga's song because I heard it and was like... yes! I'm proud of it so... here it is!
A year. It had been an entire year since that day. Dean tried not to think of it, he pushed it to the back of his mind and shoved things on top of it just to stop the thoughts from ever coming up. Sometimes he couldn't fight them off; usually it was at night when he tried to sleep. His mind would run and he wouldn't be able to stop it, usually he found the closest bottle of whatever was closest to him. Sam never questioned him, thank god or whoever was in charge now, his usual nosey brother knew better than to ask him. On nights like tonight the bottom of the bottle only seemed to make things worse.
He didn't expect it to go away tonight. That was why he didn't stay at the bar he tried to go to. Dean knew he wasn't the best person to spend time with when he was like this. Honestly he didn't care what people thought of him, he'd gotten to the point where if he was hated by everyone but Sam he was fine. However he didn't like snapping at people constantly, which was what would end up happening if he stayed at the bar.
This of course brought him to his current location, bum-fuck-nowhere Alabama sitting in the Impala nursing an almost empty bottle of Jack. Wrapping his jacket tighter around himself Dean leaned his head against the steering wheel. He should go back to the room now, he knew that, but he wouldn't. Not yet, he would sit here finish this bottle hoping it warmed him up, even if he knew it wouldn't. He would look out at the field in front of him biting back the tears. Dean couldn't count the number of times he'd heard that if you just cried it would feel better, but he wouldn't. Going back was not an option; Sam would see his face and know.
He liked to think that he was the one who knew Sam better than anyone, and he did. However at the same time his little brother knew him better than anyone. He was almost certain that Sam knew, he always knew. Admitting it was another thing. Confronting the fact that his brother probably knew was something the older Winchester couldn't handle. If he went back he would have to look at his brother and be confronted with the fact that he missed the angel more than he should have.
In his mind he thought that maybe if he just ignored the fact that the angel even existed everything would just go away. All the memories he had of C… he couldn't even think of his name. Shaking his head he looked out at the stars blinking a few times doing his best to get rid of the moisture in his eyes that was blurring his vision. Sucking in a deep breath he leaned back in the seat pouring the remainder of the Jack down his throat. The burn that usually came with it was gone now, after an entire bottle it didn't surprise him. Tossing the bottle in the passenger seat Dean went back to his own thoughts.
In the beginning he vowed that he wouldn't talk about him anymore. It would be like it was with Lisa and Ben, they would be gone and he would deal with it not worrying about them, but it couldn't be that easy. He thought that maybe it was just that he'd lost everyone, his mother, his father, Lisa, Ben, Bobby, Sam and him. He tried to talk his mind into that so many times that he'd lost count. Even if in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't true he could convince the front of his mind that it was. He was able to pretend that it was just that he lost everything and it was taking it's toile on him.
As the chill of the air outside once again found its way into the Impala Dean wrapped himself tighter in his coat rubbing his hands together. Turning on the car and turning on the heater was just an unappealing idea to him at the moment. It was his own form of punishment. Why should he be comfortable when the person who saved his ass more than he could count was gone. His own hypocritical tendencies were eating away at him, this would be the only time he'd admit it to himself but he was a hypocritical bastard. Dean was mad at his closest friend for something he'd been stupid enough to do himself.
Letting out a dry laugh he clenched his jaw as his fist tightened. Closing his eyes tightly he slammed his clenched fist into the steering wheel. Ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his arm he started to laugh again. How weak was he? He didn't know how to deal with things in normal ways. Looking around the Impala he ran his tongue over his dry lips. Dean blocked out the pain by downing a bottle of the strongest alcohol, he took out his anger by hitting things, he dealt with guilt by making himself feel miserable and his feelings… he didn't deal with them at all. It was how he was raised, the bottom of a bottle could solve all problems. The worst part was that he knew it was a lie but god damn did it help him not feel.
Well usually it did, tonight it didn't seem to be doing anything. Maybe after god knows how many of years of finding the bottom it just stopped affecting him. He knew better than that, if that had been true he wouldn't be finding anything amusing about the situation. The laughter that was still finding it's way from him wasn't a humorous laugh, hell he didn't know what it was. Maybe he was laughing at himself. Maybe he wasn't good enough for the people. If they all left him then wasn't it him who was tainted? As his thoughts started to sound more and more like Zachariah's words to him while he was in heaven he had to get out.
Pushing the door open Dean stepped outside doing his best to ignore the spinning his head was doing. As the cold air hit his face full force he leaned against the side of the impala closing the door when he did. Running his hands down his face Dean let out a shaky breath watching the puff of air as it left his mouth. The chill was getting too much for him; he had to have a blanket or something stuck in the back of the impala. Walking around to the back he felt around in the darkness grabbing the only cloth he found.
As he tried to wrap whatever he was holding around his body he stopped dead. Clenching his fists around the thing in his hands he realized what he was holding. Clenching his jaw he felt the water welling in his eyes. Of all things to grab why did he have to grab Castiel's coat? Looking down at the tan trench coat in his hands he put his fist against it letting out a loud laugh looking up at the sky.
"What the fuck did I do!" his voice was horse as he yelled keeping his eyes on the sky. "Take everyone from me! Where ever the hell you are god…" he let out a choked breath. "Fuck you!" He yelled louder as he raised his hand to throw the trench coat.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw my things Dean." There was a pause as Dean's eyes went wide. "Or take my father's name in vain."