==Warnings: Depictions of alcohol abuse, prescription medication abuse, marijuana use, non-consensual sex, date-rape, panic attacks, depression and thoughts of suicide. If any of these are triggers, please do not read.==
He was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep. Dean stayed awake with him through the entire night too, only getting up when his phone rang. Answering the phone, Dean had a short conversation with however was on the other line and hung up.
"That was Charlie. She has all your paperwork done and will come by to drop it off tomorrow. She's been dying to meet you."
He feigned getting up and looked over at Dean, "how does she know about me?" he queried.
"Remember Chuck? Well he kept publishing for a while. That's how she knows." Dean turned on the light, making them both blink at the increased light. "Hungry?"
"Not really." His appetite was nil most times, besides the diner the night before.
Dean frowned, "oh, ok…well, I'm gonna eat something."
"I would like some coffee though."
"Yeah, sure. I'll brew some."
When they both reached the kitchen Dean made himself some scrambled eggs and toast. When his back was turned, he put some whiskey in his cup to mix it with his coffee. However, when Dean turned around he saw the bottle there and arched his eyebrow. "Adding to the coffee Cas?"
"Yes, since you do it I thought that would be ok."
"But…I…fine." Dean stammered, knowing he had no rebuttal. He turned around and placed the eggs on his plate and brought the coffee pot over with him. He poured them both a cup, but he didn't add to his besides cream and sugar.
"I would like to visit Sam, if that's ok." Dean's fork stopped midway to his mouth before he put it down.
"Ok, suppose we can clean up around…"
"I would like to visit alone Dean, if that is all right."
Dean looked away from him, but he sensed he had hurt him somehow. "That's...fine." Dean got up and left his plate and retreated to somewhere else in the bunker. Sighing, he drained his cup and took the rest of the bottle outside.
Since he didn't wear a watch or carry a phone, he had no idea what time of the day it was. It was mid-morning though, since the sun was just still new in the horizon. It is late summer, so it wasn't cold, but there was a chill in the air. Breathing deep the fresh air, he closed the door and went up the hill.
It was in a clearing and all the marked the final resting place of Sam was a crude wooden cross. There were holes dug about haphazardly all across the small field, so he had to watch his step. The earth that was turned over at the spot had already green shoots of grass that was beginning to show. The space was tranquil and given some care, would be a lovely garden.
His shoe hit a glass bottle that was hidden in a tuft of grass. It was the same one he was holding in his hand. Dean must have brought it here and clearly drank it all. That was not surprising and he planned on doing the same. He was feeling hollow at the moment, empty and he wanted this feeling to end. Since Dean usually drank, he took from his example. Twisting the cap off, he took a long drink straight from the bottle.
Coughing as the burn went down his mouth, he closed it again and sat at the foot of the grave. "Hello Sam. I find it strange that I feel the need to converse with you though you are dead. However, it is something that I have seen many people do and it seems to help them. I expect this to be a one sided explanation, though if you do respond, I would have to make sure it was you." He took another drink. "I am sorry that you died Sam. If I could have brought you back, I would have. You of all people deserve to live a full and happy life. Instead you sacrificed it…for all of us."
He huffed, "I know that the greater whole of humanity is good. Even those homeless I encountered showed me some kindness. When I was possessed with all those souls, I only judged those to be cruel, hypocrites and destructive, which such a small amount of the population. It is for them, those who have faith and are good, we all died for one time or another."
"But even so, I ran afoul of persons who have taken advantage of me. I wish them the cruelest torment available in hell. I would make a deal with Crowley again to ensure that they do." He took another drink. "As an angel, wishing such things is blasphemy. It is supposed to be in our nature to save such wretched souls. As a human though, I want them to hurt, to feel powerless as I do. These two conflicting emotions, these desires are confusing me." He sat in silence and then lay on his back, looking up at the bright sky.
It was mostly cloudless and they sky was a dark blue as it tends to be in the morning. The quiet of this small grove came over him and calmed him. There was no people, no noise, just the breeze rustling through the leaves. "I believe I love your brother Sam, and it hurts me to see him in pain as well. Your absence has affected his well-being, though I know he is not letting it show because of me." He sat back up. The bottle was still mostly full, but he was feeling it already. He wanted to feel nothing though so he took another drink.
He looked at the small cross, "you know Sam, Jesus preached mostly about compassion, forgiveness and love. His own sacrifice on the crucifix was to inspire humanity to aspire above their instincts and simply love one another. I now understand why that is so difficult to achieve." He took another drink. "I don't want to forgive. I don't deserve to be forgiven either, not with all the hurt I have done to the world. I don't want to be touched but I want Dean to touch me. But how could he ever want me? Even if he were inclined to pursue a relationship with me, why would he want to? I'm…damaged. " Tipping the bottle, he held on longer than he had before.
"I suppose Sam, that I will have to be content with the closeness Dean is allowing me. I know he's only doing it to make me feel better, but it's…difficult. Part of me wants to just be there, another part wants to touch more of him. It is confusing." He looked back down, "being human is confusing. And it hurts. I don't want to feel anything anymore."
After he left Cas, he retreated to the gun range which he was sure Cas didn't know about. Sam was still a sore subject with him, and Cas knew that, so he didn't bring him up. He should be ok that Cas wanted to pay his respects to his brother, but that only reaffirmed to him that Sam was dead. You don't pay respects to guy who's coming back, but one that's in the ground. He felt nauseous at the thought of Sam rotting away in that wooden coffin. Maybe he should have burned him, it is a hunter's death, same way dad and Bobby went. It was clean…and it practically guaranteed no coming back. No angels to resurrect him like they did Adam.
Adam, he had forgotten his half-brother. He had to choose though when Death gave him that dreadful choice. Sam or Adam, and of course he went for Sam. That was another failing on his part, he failed to save either one of his brothers and now he was the last man standing. Maybe one day they'll find a way to save Adam, but Sam? Sam was gone.
Cas was here now, but after last night, he felt like a wall came down between them. He didn't know why it did, he seemed ok being that close to him. Recalling how Cas traced his hand on his ear and face, he thought Cas was just assuring himself he was there. It was a soft touch, and there was hesitation in the movements, but he liked it. Weird, but he was ok with that. Then bam, wall up and now Cas is acting funky. Slipping some Jim Bean into his coffee? That was his MO, not Cas's.
Then again, Cas followed his examples, which now included his drinking. He can't exactly say no to Cas, since he would point out that was how he dealt with crap in general. At least he hadn't smoked another joint since yesterday. Though he could use on right now. But he wouldn't indulge in that, which was a one shot thing. Maybe his hands off approach with Cas finding alcohol and drugs was not the best idea after all.
And now he had another cryptic message from Sam from the great beyond. 'Don't freak out'? What the hell does that mean? He handled another dude in his bed just fine. This entire thing of what happened to Cas he was dealing the best he can. If he was in Cas's shoes, he would seriously question his sexuality if he was got hard too. In the back of his mind he knew it was just a reflex, that it was a reaction. By no means would it mean he would enjoy it.
Then it occurred to him, he assumed that Cas was straight like him. He didn't object to be taken to a female strip bar, and the guy was married a couple years back. Maybe that was one saving grace, that Cas didn't have a sexuality to be concerned with. Then again, it would also put him off anything in regards to it as well. Anyone's first time should be special, or should at least tried to be special. His was less than glamorous, and he was so young. Back when he was sixteen he got it one with one girl in his class. She liked him, and he though she was hot because she had a full big rack. For him, it kinda happened when they were supposed to be studying math and ended up studying biology on each other. It was a spur of a moment, no finesse and nothing remotely romantic. Not like it was with Robin. In hindsight, it was a quick and lousy, but at the time, he felt like he was king of the world. Cas would never have that. No, all he'll recall was that he was drugged and taken like a common street whore then dumped like trash on the side of the road.
If that his first experience ever, then he would never want to be touched intimately again. Physical intimacy was a major part of human interaction, a way to express feelings. He never realized it, but touch plays a major part in most people's lives. Handshakes, hugs, pat's on the back and so on were all part of the human experience. That too was also stolen from Cas. Cas would only allow him to touch him because he made, or used to make him feel safe. If he was the extent of human contact Cas was willing to suffer, then so be it, manhood be damned.
Getting up, he checked and loaded a gun for practice. Shooting was a great way to vent, and he needed to vent. Sam could put up with his brooding but he would listen patiently, and he would do the same, usually, to let Sam vent. Also the hunting and ganking thing was a great way to stay in shape and vent. No monsters here though, and he wasn't about to vent to Cas, since Cas was half the reason he needed to vent. Taking aim, he thought he did damn good when the sheet he imagined as Metatron came back.
When he got his hands on the guys who did that to Cas, he was going to use the skills he learned to teach them a lesson before he ended their miserable lives. Shooting them would be too good for them. Then he was going after Metatron, one way or another, he was going to get the asshat. This was unfair what happened to Cas, what happened to him too. But life was unfair. He can't let his anger get the better of him. Being angry makes him do stupid desperate things.
Cas. He left the bottle there in the kitchen all alone with it. Guy had no idea on how to pace himself, last time he got drunk it took an entire store. Racing back to the kitchen, his suspicion was correct. Cas had indeed taken the bottle and headed outside. If he chugged the damn thing, he could pass out and choke in his own vomit. Sounded hilarious, but he's seen it for real and it was no laughing matter.
He quickly made his way up the hill to Sam's grave and saw Cas was there, sitting quietly looking at the cross he made. Sensing him, he turned and looked at him. "Hello Dean." It did not escape his notice that Cas was slurring and upon closer observation, was swaying. Great, now he had a drunken depressed PTSD ex-angel.
"Dammit Cas, did you drink the entire bottle?" he asked angrily.
Lifting the bottle up, he saw it was still mostly full. "Of course not Dean, I want to be drunk, but not drunk."
"That makes no sense." he said marching over. Cas handed him the bottle…then another empty one. "What the hell Cas? Did you drink two bottles?"
"That one was already here empty. Yours." Cas pointed mostly at him. "Don't want to pass out, might dream."
Cas wanted to feel buzzed but not to the point where he would pass out. Maybe he did know how to pace himself. Now he felt like a fool and a mother hen. Especially when evidence of his own binge drinking was right in his hand. "Uh…sorry Cas. I just worried about you."
"I know." Cas looked back at the Sam's grave before lying flat on his back. "It's quiet out here. And open with fresh air. Join me Dean."
He lied down next to Cas in the grass. It was like times he and Sam used to just sit around in a park, just watching the clouds go by. Or at night to watch the stars, something they still do when they found themselves in the middle of nowhere. Crack open a beer and lie on the hood, wondering the mysteries of the universe. At least that's what he assumed Sam thought, he was more down to earth and just relaxed.
"Dean…I miss Sam."
"I do too Cas, I do too." He felt a hand reach for his own, and not thinking, he entwined their fingers.
ed their fingers.