Vixxy here! My faithful readers are probably about ready to slaughter me, so I hope this will appease you guys until my writer's block streak ends. Tis another Destiel fic, this time for an old friend who died. I know he's gonna read it. THough how, I dunno. This one is for Liandre. Love you man! As for my breathing readers; enjoy! And remember! Reviews = LOVE!
Farewell is not Forever
Dean sank onto the bed and pulled the bottle to his lips. Taking a swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle, he closed his eyes at the burning the drink caused down his throat. "So I'm alone...again." he smiled sarcastically. "Well, it's better than Hell." he decided, taking another long drag of whiskey before leaning back against the headboard. He closed his eyes as a long roll of thunder clapped and the sound of rain on the window caught his attention. Sitting upright, he stared at the liquid running down the window. "Stupid water crap." he commented, lying back again. He lost track of time as he sat, taking drink after drink, listening to the rain water outside his hotel room with a certain disgust. It had been raining an hour ago when Cas had left him alone in the field. The rainfall had stopped long enough for him to return to the hotel. In the darkness of the room, he laughed at everything and nothing all at once. He passed out as the rain tapped relentlessly upon the window.
The next thing Dean knew, he sat bolt upright to a sound at his door. He rubbed his eyes, then glanced at his clock. "The hell?" he mumbled. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the door, barely managing to open it, only to give a look of pure confusion. That was until he fell forward, too drunk to keep his balance, causing the angel who'd been standing at his door to fall back as he was caught in strong arms. The pair landed with a thud on the pavement, rain falling down on them.
"Dean, are you drunk?"Cas inquired, having to push the human off of him enough to sit up, his already soaked clothes becoming even more wet from the downfall.
"A little," Dean slurred, sitting back as best he could, obviously needing help to do even that amount of effort. To his surprise, he seemed rather calm that Castiel was there. Shouldn't he be surprised, or screaming? 'Gotta be the alcohol.' Dean commented to himself, falling forward against Cas' chest. "Why are you here, Cas?"
"I couldn't leave you." Cas replied after a long silence. Dean guessed the angel was trying to figure out how to phrase his presence. "Not like that."
"And why the hell not?" Dean slurred, somehow managing to sit up. He didn't stay in an upright position for too long before falling forward towards the pavement. Had Castiel not been there to catch him, he would have hit his head. Dean laughed darkly at himself. "Big bad angel, here to save me, huh?" he tried to sound sarcastic, but the alcohol refused to let it happen. Instead it came out as a half-assed whimper.
Cas just closed his eyes and sighed. "Dean…" He shook his head and somehow managed to stand while picking Dean up. Dean was sure the whole so-great-it-should-be-unholy balance thing was part of being an angel. Not that he really cared. He just leaned against Cas, not caring if anyone saw.
"To hell with love." Dean slurred out in practically one word.
Cas paused a second longer than he should have at the slurred phrase. He knew what Dean had said, but he refused to listen to it. It was just the alcohol. It had to be. If not, there'd be trouble. There'd be an argument at the least. He carried the plastered human back into the hotel room and set Dean on the bed. "You need to rest, Dean."
"Why, so you can run off again?" Dean managed through the drunken haze. Cas noticed the male was still speaking in slurred tongue. Sighing, the angel reached out and laid a hand on the hunter's shoulder. He focused on his Grace and made the other man recover from the blitzed phase. Pulling away, he watched as Dean fell back against the bed in a deep sleep. He then walked to the window of the room and stood silently, watching the human sleep.
Hours later, Dean awoke to the sound of the radio playing an old rock station. The current song was "Cowboys From Hell" by Pantera. He sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes as he looked around. The first thing he noticed was the bright light streaming through the open curtains of the window. The second thing was that he had no headache. And he didn't particularly care for the third.
"Dean," Cas nodded once towards his charge, not caring to say a good morning.
"What the hell do you want, Cas?" Dean snapped, grimacing as he didn't feel the familiar pang from an empty bottle.
"To stay where I have been," Cas replied without a blink.
"You didn't seem so thrilled to stay when you got called home." Dean snapped, standing and going to the mini fridge to pull out a spare can of beer and popping the top. He pulled the can up to his lips, taking a long drink as he listened to the silence of the room. He could have cared less that the fallen angel was there, and he could have cared less why Cas was still standing in his hotel room. All he knew was that there was a pain to be numbed and it had to be done soon or he'd break. The small can of alcohol wasn't going to be enough, he quickly realized. He sighed heavily and grabbed the remaining cans of the six-pack and carried it over to the bed. He plopped down among the sheets as he grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. "If you've got nothing to say Cas, get the hell out." He stared at the television, eyes unseeing as he waited for the angel to speak or leave. He got neither response that he had asked for. Instead, Cas sat on the bed beside him, leaning back among the pillows to watch the TV as well as Dean was. Dean was quick to realize there was a game in play. And he knew he wasn't going to lose. The game, one might have asked him? Yes, a game. To see which of the pair could go the longest on the rocky terms where they were. If you had asked him before now, he would have known that he would lose. But he was hurt, angry and irritated at being left alone, even for a minute, by the angel, and was intent on letting Cas stew in the regret for a bit. Dean found himself wondering if angels really knew what regret was. Maybe they faked emotions so that they could get out of their duties. Maybe that's what Anna had done. There was a chance that that's what Cas had done as well. Bored of the angelic lifestyle, he'd acted as if he'd gotten emotions to be sent from Heaven for good. One of them was going to fold, and it wouldn't be him. How long could Cas wallow in guilt before he broke the silence?
Six hours later, Dean was beginning to falter in his strength against not talking to the angel. Apparently Cas' resolve was at impenetrable as his own. If that were the case, the winner of the game could either of the pair. One of them was going to break. And Dean didn't know for sure who it would be at this point. He could only wonder if Cas would falter first; yet he also wondered if it would be him to break the silence.
"Since it seems there is nothing to say, I shall leave you." Cas said, standing from the bed. He hadn't given up, but was letting the rocky shore become formidable. Dean felt as if he'd been slapped. He could do little but stare at the angel, willow green orbs lost. "But remember, Dean. Farewell is not forever." This said, the angel was gone.
Dean stared at the spot where Cas had stood. "He left…" he said at last. "He actually left!" He huffed and threw himself back among the pillows and opened another beer, taking half the can in one drink as he intended to make himself as blitzed as possible in the next half hour. But something made him stop as he finally understood what Cas had said as a goodbye. Farewell is not forever. Dean smiled and looked at the ceiling. "I'll be sure to call you when I feel better." He told the angel, not sure if Cas heard him or not.