DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural. I wish I did. Or at least had a joint-custody agreement and got to spend time with it every other weekend with supervised visitation. Oh well…
WARNING: NOT HAPPY. VERY MESSED UP. FUTURE!VERSE.
SPN Crack Day 8:
Word: SONG THEME: "I Won't Say I'm In Love" - Hercules
Pairing: Dean/Castiel (one-sided?)
Rating: R
Setting: 5.04 Future
Dean came with a grunt and the fingers that had tangled themselves into the messy black hair gave a sharp pull. The hunter pulled away from his swollen-lipped lover, stuffing himself back in his jeans and mumbling "thanks" as he headed out the door. The door-beads jingled behind him – like a sickening wind-chime that taunted the cabin's tenant.
The dark-haired man sighed, getting up off his knees and wiping his mouth. He cracked his back, stretching out like lazy house cat.
His sandals shuffled against the rugs as he made his way to his desk. He pulled out a bottle of homemade mescaline capsules. He fished out two of them and dry-swallowed them – chasing them with a swig of absinthe. He lay back down and hoped the green fairy would finally come to visit.
A voice in his head – a voice that sounded a lot like Sam Winchester – piped up, "You love him, don't you?"
The glass-eyed man started to laugh and fumbled for more of his pills. "Fuck. I was hoping for a more visual trip this time."
Sam's voice kept on going, "Everyone knows it, Castiel – he's the earth and Heaven to you. Why else would you be in this dump instead of upstairs with your brothers? Dean. That's why."
Castiel tried to sit up, tried to defend himself – but how do you defend yourself against a hallucination?
"It's just sex. No big deal, Sam." A lot of things are different now remains unspoken. He took a couple different pills – not really sure what they are or what they do.
Still, the risk of overdose has to be better than being lectured by a dead man.
If Sam had been in corporeal form, he would have had the bitchiest face right about now. "We both know that isn't true, Cas. It's not just sex. Not for you."
The dark-haired addict groaned and cupped his hands over his ears. He took another long swig of absinthe – really praying that green fairy will come kick Sam's ass right about now.
But the younger Winchester's voice only proceeded to nag at him more – hissing inside his head – "You both need each other, Cas. You're both alone, cut off from your families. You need some companionship."
Here's where Castiel just about lost it completely.
He screamed to the heavens, "I am his companion! Like a lowly whore!" His shoulders drooped and his chest heaved in panting breaths.
Sam – that asshole – goaded him on, "By the way you just reacted, I'd say you wanna be more than just one of my brother's floozies. Eh, Cas?"
The former Angel just sat there, shaking his head. "Fuck you, Sam. I am not going to say that I'm in love with Dean Winchester!"
He tried to roll off the bed and onto his feet, but he stopped when he realized he could not trust his legs to support him right now. He grabbed the bottle of amphetamines that he has stashed by the bedside and dry-swallowed a handful of them.
Perhaps that will keep a certain hallucination away.
Castiel let out a laugh – maybe the Sam-hallucination was done with him. Stupid prick.
He sat down among his girls – the other campers called them his harem – and he smiled, happier than he had been all day. He began his spiel about the important of a mental and physical union.
"We're each a fragment of total perception. One compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total shared perception is… um, it's surprisingly physical."
What? Dean was the only one allowed to use people for sex?
When the hunter appeared at his cabin door, Castiel felt his heart skip a beat. He excused himself from the women with a smile. "Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy?" His eyes undressed them as they passed, admiring the merchandise, "You're all so beautiful."
Sam's voice came back with a vengeance, "Oh yeah. You aren't in love with Dean. You only practically hit the ceiling when he walked in."
God, did he sound this bitchy when he had a body to go with that voice?
Dean stared at him with a confused, wide-eyed gaze, "What are you? A hippie?"
Castiel stretched towards the ceiling, his back cracking and creaking, "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me."
Sam laughed in his head, "The only label you're asking for is boyfriend."
The dark-haired man rolled his glazed-over eyes at the hallucination's running commentary. Then his attentions turned to Dean.
Dean sounded worried, "Cas, we gotta talk."
It was only now that the ex-Angel took a good long look at the man in his cabin and he realized this was not the man who he had given a rather righteous blow-job to a few hours earlier. "Whoa, strange. You… are not you. Not 'now' you, anyways…"
He divided his attention between listening to Dean explain how he had gotten from 2009 to 2014 and listening to Sam's vicious side-remarks, "Oh yeah. I am way off-base by saying you love him. You just realized this isn't 'your' Dean. Just admit it, Cas."
Castiel did not dare to reply to his hallucination aloud. Never out loud, he thought to himself.
"What happened to you?" Dean's voice brought him back out of his head.
The dark-haired man looked at the past-version of his fearless leader and his heart flipped.
"Life."