Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Supernatural and I'm not making any sort of profit from this. It's just for fun.
Rating: M for sexual content
Summary: Five Years Gone verse, a closer look at the relationship between Dean and Castiel in a world with absolutely no future. There will be more than one chapter to this.
His head is buzzing from the alcohol and the woman next to him…what was her name? Oh, yes, Sarah, she's smiling at him and cuddling up close, shutting her eyes and letting her fingers trail idly over his chest. He allows this, even drapes an arm around her and gives her a fragile hug and kisses the top of her head as her breath evens out and she falls asleep. There's a half smoked joint a few feet from his other hand and he contemplates finishing it, decides it's too much effort to reach for it and instead lets once vibrant blue eyes scan the ceiling lazily. He's depicted as the clown now, mellow and carefree, the person to go to when someone wants to forget about the current disaster of the world they now live in. He's the happy one, the one who learned the right way to deal with the situation. They couldn't be more wrong for Castiel could not remember ever feeling so down.
His mind shifts and focuses instead on him and he is almost surprised at the turn of his thoughts. He hardly ever thinks about him anymore, only when he has to for thinking about him makes him feel even worse, though how such a thing is possible anymore he doesn't know. There are a lot of things Castiel doesn't know anymore and it troubles him, but the booze and the drugs keep these troubles from sinking in too deep. But now, Castiel remembers and his heart twists within his chest. He remembers Detroit falling when Sam went to Lucifer after Dean denied his brother, refused to join with him again in the hopes it would make them both stronger. But Sam wasn't strong enough without his brother and when he said yes and Lucifer won…that was it. The angels left this world and Lucifer opened it to the demons. Humanity was scarce, hiding out where they could as the Croatoan Virus steadily finished off the dwindling population and Dean…well, Castiel remembers Dean as he was when it first started. When the Winchester threw his hands up to the sky and screamed yes over and over to Michael, but Michael was no longer there to hear him and as the world grew worse and worse, Dean lost more and more of his humanity so that now…the man who led this small band today was but a shadow of who he used to be.
And the friendship, the bond that had been so prevalent between them, was all but gone. No more were the days when Dean went to Castiel for advice and when this first started, Castiel remembered long nights spent with Dean. He'd been awkward then, attempting to do what humans do when a friend is lost and Castiel had held Dean as the other just shook in silence or else bemoaned the choices he made regarding his brother. And finally, Castiel wasn't enough to fight off the man's demons and Dean shut off, from the rest of their camp and from the former angel. Ah yes, Castiel's eyes opened as his mind shifts once more to the fact that his grace is nearly gone, he is all but human now and he laments this, oh he laments the fall from Grace with every fiber of his being and he can't fight it anymore and half of him doesn't want to bother trying, for what's the use? Father is shut out, or has moved on and this is now Lucifer's world. There would be no salvation for him. Salvation…maybe it had rested in Dean once, when Castiel was sure the human felt more for him than mere friendship and Castiel…refused to acknowledge it. Those long nights spent comforting his friend, the closeness of Dean, always so close, full lips always finding their way to hovering just above his own and not once did Castiel respond. He was sure that he did not want to at the time, because he was an angel and Dean was his charge and he would not do such a thing with this man. And yet now that those emotions were gone from Dean and he'd become cold, nearly uncaring, Castiel decided he did miss it and he was filled with regret for being a coward.
It was just another thing he would have to live with, another reason to bury himself in sex, alcohol and drugs. Anything to dull the pain.
When he wakes up, Sarah isn't there and for that he is grateful. Sin has made Castiel cold in his own way and he refuses to get attached to any of the women he takes to bed. Instead, he dresses and exits his cabin and finds himself heading towards Dean's. It is the first time he will be going there with no clear intention in mind, for these days he only goes before a mission in which he'll be involved. He passes many people, once unfamiliar faces now the only ones he sees and they all look the same. Desperate, tired and hopeful that maybe this time when their fearless leader goes out looking for the Colt, he'll find it and kill Lucifer.
As he approaches the door, it opens and Michelle strolls out, her hair a mess and a satisfied look on her face. "Oh, morning there, Cass," she grins at him and Castiel manages to return it. "He's a bit cranky in the morning, watch out for that."
"I know that he is," the former angel replies because that is one thing that hasn't changed. He walks in and he smells the faint odor of whiskey and the more recent smell of spent passion. He doesn't bother announcing himself, but rather heads to the dilapidated room that Dean uses as a bedroom. There is no bed, just a pile of blankets on the floor and Dean isn't there, rather he is sitting on a chair, his torso bare and the belt of his jeans still undone.
"You got something, Castiel?" Dean asked. Castiel…it's rarely 'Cass' anymore but the old sting of that has been dulled through time and barely affects him anymore.
"About what?"
"Dammit, are you high again?" and there is derision in Dean's voice as if he has a right to judge about the immoral acts Castiel has taken up when he has become nothing but a cold-hearted killer. He stood and grabbed a faded shirt from the back of the chair, pulling it on over his body. "About the Colt, what the hell else do we ever talk about?"
"Oh, that, nah I don't have anything about that," Castiel replied candidly. His voice is carefree, a little tired, but it reflects none of the current thoughts reeling in his head. He notices that Dean is staring at him with a brow arched, he looked impatient. "I was just bored, wanted to see if you found out anything."
"What, no morning orgies planned out?" Dean asked. "You must be getting more human, your stamina sucks."
And that one stung because Castiel didn't like to be reminded of his new weakness. But he doesn't show it, just cants his head to the side and smirks. "It is interesting learning just how limited you humans actually are." And it was cruel, because it was a reminder that Dean didn't have the power to stop Lucifer, not five years ago and not now and he saw the anger flash in those emerald eyes before Dean snatched his coat and shrugged it over broad shoulders.
"I don't have time for your bull shit," he replies and walks out of the room without another glance towards the fallen angel. Castiel stands there, hears the door shut indicating the other has left the house and his eyes search the ceiling, peering through it towards the sky and praying for the first time that his Father will just end this, one way or the other.
"I let him down, Cass, I told him no when he needed me and now look what's happened. It's over, Lucifer won and no matter how often I tell everyone here that I can stop him, I can't. I can't do it, I'm nothing, I was right before…you should have found someone else for this, I've fucked everything up."
Castiel is holding his friend to him and Dean's body is shaking with sobs that he refuses to release. Castiel doesn't know the correct nuances that are included when offering physical comfort and he draws on what he has seen on TV. He shifts a hand to Dean's short hair and lets his fingers comb through it. He says nothing as Dean's grip on his coat tightens and he buries his face in his chest. Castiel can feel the moisture of silent tears as Dean is tortured with the fact that Sam was gone, that there was no way of saving the younger Winchester this time. If he wanted to kill Lucifer, it meant Sam was going to die too, and Castiel knew Dean was clinging to the hope that his brother was still in there somewhere, but the angel knew better. Lucifer was too powerful and if they had been able to act more quickly, perhaps there would have been a chance but it's too late now and Sam couldn't possibly be holding on any longer. But they had to run as the demons poured in, had to run further when they noticed the virus starting to take hold. America was ruined within two months and it didn't take long for the rest of the world to fall victim as well.
"I did this," Dean whispered and his grip slackened on Castiel's jacket.
Castiel still held him; let his fingers move soothingly through that short hair. "This wasn't your fault, Dean," he replied.
"Cass…"
Castiel was suddenly looking into Dean's face, so close….so wrecked. He knew Dean was emotional, but he did so very well in hiding it that even Castiel usually had a hard time catching it, but he wasn't bothering to hide it now and the angel was startled by the evident torment on the man's features. And he was so close, if Castiel moved forward even just a bit their lips would touch, or if he just cupped the back of Dean's head and pulled him closer…but he didn't, he just looked into sad eyes. It was the fourth time they'd been this close and Castiel knows Dean is waiting for something to happen, but Castiel never responded with anything but "the answers will come, Dean, and this will be sorted out."
"Yeah," that was the first time he replied and Castiel saw something end between them. The emotion on Dean's face slipped away and he pulled away. "Yeah," he said again before he just left and Castiel thought he should go after him, but he didn't, just stayed in his own cabin and felt weighed down by the sudden sorrow that consumed him.
The next day Dean hardly spoke to him and this continued until Castiel gave it up and decided to accept the fact that everything truly was doomed. He felt his Grace dissipating and he turned from prayers to liquor, losing himself to decadence and sin and hiding the hurt with laughter and an easy attitude. Some days he convinced himself it was truly how he felt, most days he couldn't kid himself. Either way, he knew he was going to die, they all were, and he wanted to live it up as much as possible before it happened…