Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Notta. Zip. Zero. I also don't own the lyrics that are at the very beginning.
A/N: This is me trying to take the dive into fully joining the Supernatural fandom. Funny how it took an episode from season 5 for me to finally do so. An early one at that, even though I've already finished watching season 5.
I've spent most of the time just silently lurking from the sidelines and only just recently started reading fan fiction for the series. I'm in the minority in that I'm not a slash girl, at least not for this I'm not. Anyhow, the idea for this came about thanks in part that I've been rewatching 5x4 'The End' and really, I've become totally fascinated by drugged-up, booze hound, sex-fiend Future!Castiel. I don't know why but there is just something magnetic about Castiel in general.
This one-shot is just something to help get all this pent up Castiel-ness out of my head and is more or less a character study.
"I watched a change in you
It's like you never had wings…"Deftones-Change
He couldn't recall exactly how things had ended up this way; the past few years had blurred together, nothing to recall separating them. Each moment, each day felt exactly like the one before it. It could have been a number of things to make them feel this way: the drugs, the booze, the Croatian virus that was spreading like the plague it was.
All he really knew at this point was it was July 17, 2014 and things weren't looking any better. In fact things were looking really fucking bleak.
There was a soft moan next to him and Castiel looked down. Ah right, he had forgotten about that. A young woman was pressed against his side, naked as the day she was born, red-blond hair mussed and framing her pale face. This reminded him of last night's escapades.
He lifted a hand rubbed at his tanned face, feeling the roughness of the five o'clock shadow on his jaw. As wakefulness fully sat in he became aware that his head hurt like a son of a bitch. Well damn.
Castiel slowly slid out of the bed, trying not to wake up his sleeping companion and, while wincing at the pounding in his skull, slid on a pair of loose fitting cotton pants. Vaguely he could hear the camp moving around with that day's routines which normally consisted of checking on supplies (he could hear Chuck's voice shouting at people about something to do with toilet paper) and setting plans on clearing out any Croats that happened to be nearby.
He knew that it would be useless. They could kill all they could of those…things but more would come. Always more would come.
Castiel walked to the small bathroom that was connected to his room (a perk, he supposed, to being 'the fearless leader's', second-in-command), shutting the door behind him with a click. He leaned over the small, partly stained, sink, turned on the water and dipped his hands into the liquid, wetting down his face. Straightening up, he caught a look at his reflection in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. He couldn't say he was pleased with what he saw.
Dark hair, messy with sweat, hung partly over his forehead, dusky circles framed blue eyes which had gone dull thanks to his grace long since gone out, and he was relatively certain that he had lost weight if the hollows of his face where any such indication.
Shaking his head, Castiel opened the cabinet and took out one of the many orange bottles that were held within, opening the top and dropping a couple of the pills into the palm of his hand. He stared at them long and hard before, with an aura finality, tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them. He never really bothered drinking water with them anymore, with the exception of the alcohol which he consumed more often than not.
It wouldn't take long before the high kicked in and a feeling of euphoria would mask the depression that lurked on the edge of his mind. Oh he knew this was a mask, unhealthy, hiding, but he didn't give a damn. Not anymore, not after everything that had happened.
He recalled the first time he had taken these sorts of prescription drugs.
It had been after a patrol in the nearby city for things they needed, nonperishable food, hygiene products, weapons that could be useful. They were heading back with these newly acquired necessities when there had been an attack by the infected.
The party had managed to fight most of them off but not before losing a few casualties and gaining wounded. Castiel himself was included in that. A large man had charged at him, eyes wild with madness and brandishing a heavy piece of sharp bit of metal.
Castiel had managed to avoid being hit for the most part until he got caught off guard. Without his angelic abilities, he only possessed the strength and speed of a normal human, something he unfortunately failed to factor in. For his lack of foresight, he gained a deep gash on his side and a broken foot. He still had that scar.
Having to lay about and do nothing for the long periods of time it took to heal nearly drove him crazy, turning to painkillers to keep himself calm and before long he turned to other medication as well. In a way it filled a void. These soon joined the liquor and he found that he could drink more and stronger stuff, a favorite being absinthe.
His thoughts turned to the young woman in the other room and a small, stupid grin appeared on his face. Women were something that had come with the drugs. All he had to do was give vague inspirational words about love and they flocked to him. He found that he quite enjoyed the company of females. Sex was another way to take his mind off of how rundown and ragged the world was now.
With one last look in the mirror, his eyes had become somewhat dilated, Cas left the confines of the bathroom and back into his own room. The woman was awake now, and looking coyly at him with big doe eyes, blanket clinging to her chest with the help of a slim arm. His smile widens if only to mask the dull ache that no amount of drugs, booze, or sex can fill.
No one really sees that the easy care-free smile never actually reaches his eyes.
He sleeps with the woman again despite knowing that perhaps he should go assist Dean with something and he makes note that Dean probably doesn't even give a flying fuck. The only remaining Winchester had deemed the fallen, powerless angel… useless.
Castiel sighed as the little strawberry blonde moved off him but not before giving him a playful kiss on the side of his neck. He was oblivious to it however. His thoughts had moved on.
Dean was only a shell of his former self nowadays, just like everyone else was. He hadn't been the same since Sam had said 'Yes' to Lucifer and in his pain the hunter had lashed out at everyone who had tried to help him, including Castiel. In fact, Cas had been the first to be blamed. And so, Dean shut himself off from real human contact that didn't include barking orders at the refugees and other fellow hunters.
He wasn't aware how much it hurt those who cared.
Castiel and Dean didn't talk much beyond sending snarky, biting remarks to each other and every once in a while, the 'Fearless Leader' would snarl out an order. Castiel would hide the hurt with a smartass grin and a flippant shrug and when he was sure no one was around to see it, he would let it fall.
Castiel looked up towards the doorway to see Chuck standing there, looking incredibly awkward and looking everywhere but at the bed.
"Uh, Dean says that you, him and a few others are going to go scout the area for more supplies; we're getting low again." He announced uncomfortably and Castiel grinned.
"Huh, so I'm going to be put to use again. How nice." He laughed, bitterness tingeing the edges. "I'll be out there in no time. Go ahead and tell him that."
Chuck nodded, holding his clipboard to his chest and quickly left the room to inform Dean. How sadly funny this situation was, with them all dancing around each other.
Yes, he wondered sometimes how they all got here.
The End
Hope you Enjoyed!