The price of pride
Dean stood at the window as Sam drove away. He didn't like it when Sammy left, he would worry until he heard the familiar rumble of his car, but having Sammy around often made Cas angry, and when he was angry, Dean got punished.
As far as haunting went, Dean figured he had it made, there were no deaths, there was only pleasure with an occasion pain and he was grateful about that.
When Cas had died, a little part of him had remained, it was confusing at first, when Dean first started seeing Cas, because Cas had once told him that when angels died, they didn't go anywhere, they simply were gone, the grace was diminished as they had no souls.
It had happened one night, two months after Castiel had died, that Dean had seen him. He was in a bar when it happened, the last thing he remembered was screaming as one of the women that had flirted with him was lifted above him and then he felt rain.
Wet, he recalled as he looked down at the blood that was on the floor, there was so much red on the floor, as he looked around he saw that he was the only one that didn't have the pretty color all over, the police had finally come and had taken him to the hospital, and when he had come to he realized that he was being charged with her death as well as everyone that was in the bar that night, Sam had tried to talk with him, but he was already to far gone by then all he could recall was the color red.
They thought he was insane, and when he saw the pictures of the mutilated bodies, he started believing it.
They had put him in a mental institution for the criminally insane.
He was on so many drugs that he didn't know the day from night, Sam visited often, but he was locked in his own mind and barely acknowledged him or the outside word. Late at night when he was put to bed, he was restrained and totally at the mercy of his ghosts.
Most of the staff never came in, and when morning came around, they simply showered away all the remnants of the night before. Cas never really hurt him, it was all the pleasure he would have that was taking its toll on his mind as well as body. He would beg and plea for someone to help him, his screams were ignored and his cries went unanswered.
And then one day he was free, another patron that had been at the bar, but had hid when all of it went down, he finally testified that it wasn't Dean that had done it. They couldn't explain it, but they set him free anyway.
But he was far to damaged to continue and Cas, would never leave him alone, Sam had taken him to Bobby, thinking that it was a demon that was doing it, and when they summoned Crowley, they found out that it wasn't.
"It's called a soul haunting." Crowley had explained. He never really got to elaborate as Castiel had came thinking that Dean was in danger and nearly killed him.
Since Castiel had saved Dean from hell, Cas had used some of his grace to repair Dean's body and soul, hence the soul part. That little bit of grace that the angel had used was the reason Dean was like this.
It was Castiel that was still clinging to this realm, and it was that which was driving Dean insane. They couldn't remove the grace, unless they wanted to kill Dean's soul in the process.
So Sam not knowing what else to do, he had bought this house, and it was to become Dean's prison. He was still on medication, when he felt agitated or suicidal the meds became his only refuge. Dean knew that Castiel didn't like them, so he didn't take them too often, he would just let Cas do what ever it was that he wanted to do, and hopefully his angel would let him breath for awhile.
Dean turned from the window and walked to the kitchen. Food no longer held any pleasure for him any more, he eats to live now, pie was forbidden in the house as it held reminders of a once good life he had. As he sat the bowl on the table, he went to the cabinet for his cereal, when he turned back the milk was on the table.
"Thanks Cas."
Dean would sit and eat almost mechanically; he would get up from the table and wash the dish. He would sit on the couch and watch tv for a few then go to bed for his first nap of the day. Cas would leave him alone for that part, but the rest of the day, Dean would become his toy that he would play with.
"Ugh Cas…please." Dean whispered as he arched against the wall. If anyone looking in, they would only see him and think he was a pervert. It was the phantom touches, the brief feel of displaced air against his cheeks and body that made him react.
Castiel was his lover when he was still alive, and Dean loved him so much that he had killed the angel that had taken his life. Dean some times wanted it; he felt that if Cas was doing this, then he was still alive.
But sometimes, Cas wasn't gentle, sometime he would really hurt Dean. That was when the begging and pleading would start. Dean didn't associate pain with pleasure. He hated it even. Pleasure was love, pain was hate.
It was like that when the lady next door had come over, even though he never really talked to her, other than telling her to leave, he had been punished.
In the living world, Cas had been insanely jealous of anyone that looked or touched Dean, he was his and that was the only way Castiel would have it. Bobby and Sam were the only one that were allowed to enter the house, Sam was at first openly hostile to Cas, which caused Dean to be punished, after that Sam just left it alone. Bobby had just came in a called the angel an idjit and left it at that.
This was the way of life for him, day after day of torment and pleasure. He was with his angel for all days. Some times Dean would love it. Some days Dean would cry about it.
But in the end Dean was never alone, and neither was Castiel.
The end
This story was horrible; don't know why I wrote it…