Let me kiss away your pain
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw one thing. Sam, no not Sam, someone who, looked like Sam, snapping his finger, and blood splattering everywhere, making him throw up. The mind always went blank afterwards, before returning with a second vision. It was always the same thing: Acres and acres of desert, lying in front of him, without any habitat. There wasn't anywhere else, nearby. He always found himself alone. The sky always looked dark; the moon was not white but scarlet. The sand looked orange, as the color of fire. He always felt himself burning, like he did in perdition, only it seemed to be coming from within his soul, eating him alive.
Dean was hurting. It was as simple as that. It was like something inside him had died, and taken a part of him; with it. The emptiness was absolute, the nothingness all consuming. He knew he was breathing and all, but a walking shell of a man walked the road , where Dean had once walked. He had tried denying. He had tried that trick. He convinced himself into believing his own lies, that everything was ok; his love of his life would walk in through the door anytime. For days he kept up the charade, kept grinning like an idiot every time Sam opened his mouth to speak. He had to pretend, he had to believe. The alternative just wasn't the option. But with days passing by, with unbelievable speed ; and Sam looking more and more worried about him , his resolute began to desert him . As the reality finally began to dawn on him , he felt himself sinking. That's when the hidden pain of denial got replaced, got replaced by a sense of blankness.
So Dean was hurting , hurting beyond words. And he was angry. He had been happy believing , that nothing good ever happened to him . That he didn't deserve to be saved. But somehow , like a bad fairy tale , an angel had materialized , leading him to believe otherwise. He got drawn into the whole angelic myth and legends. The winged wonder mesmerized and charmed him to the point , where he was willing to offer himself to him , just to give his angel the feeling of togetherness. He had realized his motives weren't purely unselfish. He did it for Castiel as much as he did he for himself. He was in love with him , long before their willing lips met and everything stopped to matter.
And now the only good thing in his cursed life was cruelly taken away. He was left with exactly what he had before he had known his angel: nothing. Oh yes Dean was angry.
He had no reason to believe , he would get salvation. He had sinned enough , to book a seat in hell. But killing the only thing that kept him alive , metaphorically speaking and literally ; the only thing that kept him sane and human , was something he wasn't been able to come to terms to . He had been self destructive once before, when he had suspected his angel didn't reciprocate his feelings. But now, he was far too gone, too damaged to attempt an encore performance. He felt himself wasting away, painfully slowly, and hoped the agony to intensify . His sadistic perversity defined him now, with all his human faculties gone.
His mind had abandoned him, a long time ago, playing small tricks on his remaining sanity. He didn't mind though. A few hallucinations here & there and Dean called it a perfect day. The worst part was, he really had thought, Castiel was invincible, immortal. Never for a moment did he think, the devil would so carelessly snap his finger & that illusion would be gone. It was a hard reality, to live with.
Reality was a funny word. Its connotation had changed drastically. Everything , that could be associated with normalcy had gone , the moment they had decided to be hunters. Yet somethings never changed. Hunger, tiredness, thirst , longing , all these made them stay connected to the "real" world. But with castiel gone , all these began to elude him. He ate , slept , sleep walked through the days , without knowing how & why he was doing it.
It wasn't surprising, when the phone rang stubbornly, wanting to be picked up , it didn't register with Dean for a long time. It was insistant though. Dean was forced to break out of his usual stupor , after its third ring.
"Hello"
"Hello Dean"
The voice didn't register. It was familiar though. Like something he had known, loved a long time ago. Had he forgotten ? What was it ?
"Who is this " his voice shook , as he spoke.
"Dean" the voice pleaded.
" We all thought you were dead. Where the hell are you, man? " Dean's monologue seemed vaguely out of place , in the situation.
"I am at a hospital"
"Are you ok?"
"No"
"You wanna elaborate?"