Title: You Wont Say It
Author: TheMetaphorNextDoor (formerly 'isasminion')
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Angst, Slash, Character Study (-ish), Stream Of Consciousness Style
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 660
Warnings: Angst, Themes of Grief and Loss, Implied (canon) Character Death and/or Implied Temporary Character Death (not resolved either way)
Spoilers: Up to 7.02
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of it's characters.
Author Notes: So I wrote in Second Person - again. I must be a glutton for punishment. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
Summary: You know he'll come back. He has to.
You know you'll take the chance when it comes. When he comes.
And you know he'll come back. You know because the only other alternative is to grieve him. And you don't grieve. You don't grieve people who aren't family. He isn't family, he's something… else. Something you thought impossible.
(You wont say it.)
You'd grieve him because you care. Because somewhere between Hell and the Apocalypse, you chose to care. Even though you can't. You shouldn't. You don't have the luxury of stopping to collect treasures you'll only lose. The kind of treasures that, if they disappeared, would leave you shattered.
This is a choice you make daily.
But, of course, everyone makes mistakes. Everyone slips up now and then, lets someone in they never intended to and yes, you're fallible.
(You wont say it.)
So he's coming back. He is. He must.
And that chance? You'll take it. It may ruin everything or it may be the best thing you've ever done. Somewhere along the line, a little crack appeared in the wall. A crack called 'screw it, life's too short' and sometimes, just sometimes, you trip on it and, against your better judgement, go tumbling down the rabbit hole.
Chance. Destiny. Choice. Faith. Hope. Inevitability.
They are words that have haunted you as long as you can remember. At certain times, they feel like the most important words in the universe. At other times you keep them under lock and key, safely stored away where they can't cloud your judgement or derail your carefully laid plans.
He changed that. He changed everything, and you might hate him a little for that. What you don't tell yourself is that it's not him you hate, but the universe that threw you into this infernal mess. You don't tell yourself that because that would mean you care even more that you suspect.
(You wont say it.)
He'll come back. You'll see him and throw caution to the wind. You'll show him how much you'd grieve him were he really gone. How much you missed him even though you wont explicitly say it, to him or yourself.
You walk a fine line between words and feeling. You sit on the fence between denial and reality, and really, there's no place for grey areas in your life. But there is, because he made one. Smack in the middle of your well travelled highway, he built an obstacle course. He is the grey area you tiptoe around, the area you refuse to give words to.
Words aren't your strong suit.
Action is.
So you'll act. You'll prove it. It's all you're willing to do. Willing to chance. A compromise between hiding and giving everything you have. This is your middle ground. A truce.
You'll take action even if it breaks you both, because that crack in the wall is getting wider and you can't find it in yourself to ignore it anymore. And what is this but a world determined to extinguish itself despite your best efforts? Your life trying desperately to fly apart at the seams despite your protests?
You'll tumble down the rabbit hole and drag him with you, consequences be damned. You try to tell yourself you don't have a choice. There's no other option. You were always moving toward this moment, it was inevitable. It's a road you both started on long ago, and even though it doesn't have a name, it sounds suspiciously like destiny. Because it's either destiny or vulnerability.
You're still not sure which would be worse.
You've been fighting for so long. Still ingrained in you is that familiar impulse - protect yourself, raise the wall, pretend it doesn't matter.
But despite your protests to the contrary, it does matter.
Despite your best efforts to pretend otherwise, he matters.
He matters.
(You wont say it.)
~fin