It was his ritual. About once a week he would sneak out of the motel room in the middle of the night and sit in the Impala. The darkness and the silence would erase the years and he would be back in his teenage mind, reliving the memories.
He didn't know why he forced himself to relive them. They always left him feeling worse, and half the time some inanimate object would be on the receiving end of violence.
Maybe he did it to prove to himself that it actually happened. Maybe it made him grateful for the things he had now. Maybe it was his way of processing it.
But really, it was because he deserved the pain of the memories.
"Your brother is looking so grown up these days," John had growled into Dean's ear one night. Dean grimaced and ground out a pained "Dad, he's twelve." John simply shrugged.
"Fuck!"
Castiel had done that appear-out-of-nowhere-with-no-warning thing again, and Dean was caught off guard, jerked out of his memories.
"Dammit, Cas! You gotta give people warning!"
His heart was still pounding from the shock at being interrupted from his private thoughts. It was only now that he realized that his hands had been balled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He forced himself to relax.
"Why are you in your car when Sam is in the motel room? It is warmer in there," was all that Castiel said. Even in the dark interior of the Impala the angel could tell that something was wrong.
"Just… go away. I'm thinking."
"About what?"
The friggin' angel just couldn't get a hint.
Dean really wished that he hadn't chosen that exact moment to show up. He hadn't been crying of course. He never cried when he relived those memories. Bad things happened when he cried.
"What, boy? Do you not like it? If you don't like it I'm sure Sam would. Sam would respect me and obey me. Sam would give me what I need."
"No, Dad," he would reply every time, sounding younger than ever, "I love you. I respect you. I'll obey you." And over and over again in his head "not Sam. No, not Sammy. Please, not Sammy."
"Then stop fucking crying and disrespecting me."
Castiel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder but Dean jumped away at the touch.
"Nothing you would understand." It didn't matter anyway.
A look of unexplained deep sadness found its way into angel's visage.
Though he pulled his hand away he looked Dean in the eyes and merely stated, "angels talk. We know things. I know things that you think no one knows."
"No one will ever know. You know what will happen if you tell. No one would believe you anyway."
Dean felt his stomach drop. Of course Castiel didn't know this. He couldn't. No one did. No one could ever know.
It was time to end this conversation.
Had he been listening more closely as he scrambled out of the Impala and slammed the door behind him he might have heard the angel's soft words: "it wasn't your fault."
A/N: I've never written in this style before, so I hope you guys like it. Are the short chapters too annoying?
Please note that any judgmental or negative feelings expressed about Dean ("But really, it was because he deserved the pain of the memories," "It didn't matter anyway," etc.) are all Dean's thoughts; they are not meant to be taken as truth, but show how he feels about himself.
I've been really busy with schoolwork and the AP tests are in a few weeks, and I suck at estimating update dates anyway, so let's just hope I can update soon. Thanks for your patience!
Let me know what you think thus far?