Chapter 49

It was simple, really. If Cas was going to put up with his bullshit forever, he would have to be the one to end this. For Cas' sake.

It had been easier to lie to himself when at least he thought Cas would eventually realize he was worthless and simply move on with his life. He thought he could enjoy this time with Cas while it lasted, until Cas inevitably moved on, once he realized Dean wasn't salvageable. But apparently that wasn't the case.

So now he'd fucked up even worse. He'd foolishly allowed Cas to get comfortable, to build a life with him, one he couldn't commit to. They weren't in their teens anymore and he couldn't handle a career and a dog and sobriety and- oh god, what if Cas wanted a family? He couldn't raise a fucking kid. And he wasn't going to deny Cas a family just because he was a pathetic fuck-up.

He also felt guilty because Cas looked like hell, and what other explanation would there be other than Dean was stressing him out? Sure, he was a little overwhelmed with school, but it was nothing Cas couldn't handle. He was a freaking genius in Dean's eyes. So it had to be Dean. Dean was the one stressing him out. Dean was the one running him ragged. Dean was the reason he looked like he was falling apart.

This is how he came to the conclusion that it really was a simple decision. Sure, Cas would be upset, but they were in California now. He had friends and he seemed to like his school and he would inevitably meet someone else, someone better. Maybe he could pursue something with Rich.

Dean found he was surprisingly okay with that thought, or at least apathetic to it. Rich was smart, and funny, and put-together. He worked more hours in a week than Dean probably spent conscious, he could help Cas with his schoolwork, and Dean wasn't sure what else he could do, but he was sure it was great. Cas would be happy. Then he would forget all about Dean, who was anxious and bitter and falling apart. Dean would just fade into a distant memory of his teenage years.

Cujo watched from the bed as Dean shoved some old clothes into the duffel bag he'd used when he first moved in with Cas back in Kansas. Dean could hear him whining softly, like he knew what was happening, or at least that something was happening, and Dean had to bite back tears. This is why he hadn't wanted a dog. They didn't understand anything. He would probably never understand why Dean left him.

Once he was satisfied with what he'd thrown into his bag, he shrugged into his old green jacket, relieved to find it fit again. It was still the tiniest bit tight around the shoulders, but it wasn't uncomfortable. He didn't really give it a second thought, though; while he'd wanted to lose weight, this wasn't how he'd wanted to do it. He gave one last glance around the room, and his gaze fell upon the fox mount, which was propped up against the wall next to Cas' nightstand. Cas had been asking him for the last month if he could put it on the wall above the bed, but Dean had never gotten around to it.

He found their tools and hammered a few nails into the wall. He could at least do something useful before he left. Then he grabbed the mount, sliding the holes in the back of the fake rock over the nails. Stepping back on the bed to make sure it was even, he shook his head at himself. Putting it up took less than five minutes, yet he couldn't be bothered to do it before.

He hopped off the bed and slung his bag over his shoulder, turning to give Cujo a long rub on the head. Then he bent down and wrapped his arms around his neck. "I will miss you so much, buddy. I love you. Please watch out for Cas for me."

He took his house key off his key ring, leaving the rest of them on the counter. Then he walked out the front door, locking it behind him, shoving the key into one of his jacket pockets, and walking off down the street.

He wasn't really sure where he was going, but his feet soon carried him to Brit's. He knocked on the door, and her roommate let him in and told him he was pretty sure Brit was sleeping. Dean had spent enough time there at this point that it wasn't weird when he went upstairs alone to bang on her bedroom door. She answered in short shorts and a tank top, one strap hanging down around her arm. Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were hooded. She was either fucked up, or Dean had woken her up.

"What's up?" she asked groggily, backing away from the door so he could enter. "What's with the bag?" she asked as he brushed past her.

"I'm leaving," he said quickly, turning in the center of her room to look at her.

She squinted at him for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head. "What...?" She closed her bedroom door and walked back to the bed, where she grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand. She shook one out of the pack and lit it, extending the lighter out to Dean.

"I'm leaving," he repeated, taking the lighter from her, lighting his own cigarette, and handing it back.

She tossed it back onto the cluttered nightstand. "What do you mean leaving? W... where are you going?"

He shrugged, dropping his bag, and lowered himself into an old bean bag chair on her floor. "Anywhere but here, I guess."

She continued staring at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until she managed, "Why?"

"Because," he said quickly, but then trailed off. This was going to sound so rotten, but he wasn't sure how else to say it. "I'm leaving Cas." He closed his eyes and lowered his head, hating himself more than ever.

"What?!" she exclaimed, quickly moving across the room towards him. She got down on her hands and knees to get in his face. "Why?"

He looked up and almost sneered at her. He hated her lack of respect for personal space, but she was his friend, and a good one at that. He told her things that he'd never told Cas- mostly about the shit that went on inside his head. Social graces often fell by the wayside when you were doing drugs, so he dealt with it.

"Well first off, he fucking walked in on me shooting up," he muttered.

Brit leaned back on her knees and sucked air through her teeth. "Shit."

"Yeah. And..." he took a deep breath. "He was so disappointed, I could see it on his face, but he didn't even get angry. All he wanted was to talk to me, and... and I pushed him away." He took a drag off of his cigarette, taking a moment to collect himself before exhaling and continuing. "So this morning I talked to him and he basically said he would never leave me, no matter what I do." He looked up at her with a frown. "He didn't actually say this, but I feel like he forgives everything I do because I'm mentally ill or whatever." He mumbled the last part, looking down at his cigarette. "But it pisses me off, because it's not some excuse for me to shit all over him. I just can't keep doing it."

Brit was quiet for a minute or two, and Dean began to wonder if she was ever going to respond. Finally, she spoke in a quiet, even tone. "Dean, I think you are making a huge mistake."

He shook his head. "Cas will be so much happier-" She arched her eyebrows. "Not at first," he added, "but soon."

"You sound so sure," she said, pursing her lips.

He swallowed. "Because I am." They were quiet for a few minutes as they finished their cigarettes.

Dean snubbed his out in an ashtray on the dresser behind him and clapped his hands together. "Call Craig. I need provisions."


He shot up only once with Brit and then gave her a hug goodbye. He needed to get a move on before Cas got out of class at three. If he was still in town when Cas realized he was gone, Cas might try and find him. Dean would have to tell him what he was doing, and Cas would try and talk him out of it. Dean couldn't handle that. He'd made his decision. For this reason, he decided to turn off his phone. He wasn't sure he had the willpower to ignore Cas' desperate calls and texts.

He walked farther than they ever had before through town, head down, unable to meet anyone's eyes. He felt like he was radiating scum-of-the-earth waves and every decent, self-respecting person on the street could see them.

Finally he looked up and saw a Greyhound bus station. He went inside and looked at the locations on the board. There was one departing soon for Denver. Didn't he know someone in Denver? He thought for a moment and realized that was where they'd met Jake and Jeremy. Then he realized the tickets were nearly $150. Well, that was out. He had all of the leftover money he'd saved from doing the newspaper route for a few months, but he had spent a decent amount on Cas' fox and some other things while he was still working- cigarettes, gas, fast food. Then he'd been whittling away at what was left for heroin the last seven weeks.

Then he'd bought a weeks worth of dope from Craig, because the thought of traveling and being unable to find any was absolutely terrifying. All in all, he had about six-hundred dollars left to his name, but he knew it wouldn't last long.

He exited the building and kept walking, until the buildings turned into warehouses and he wasn't sure he'd ever even been in this part of town before, or if he was even still in San Francisco. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, but it felt like hours. The sun had gone down and it was cold. Finally buildings and storefronts appeared again and he happened across a bar. He'd passed quite a few, but now his legs were sore and a drink sounded amazing.

He entered and made his way to the front, sitting down on a bar stool. It was fairly empty, and only one other stool on the other end was occupied, so he dropped his duffel bag down on the seat next to him. The bartender, who was wiping down the same end of the bar he'd sat down at, shoved her rag into her apron and nodded at him. "What can I get you?"

"Jack, neat."

She turned around and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf, turning again and getting a glass from beneath the bar. She poured it and held it out, but when Dean reached for it, she pulled it back a little and raised an eyebrow at him. "I.D.?"

He smirked and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He flashed her his I.D. and she checked her watch. "Twelve-oh-five," she said, giving an impressed nod. "Here ya go, birthday boy."

He re-pocketed his wallet and took the drink from her, still smirking. He tilted his head back and drained the glass, placing it back on the counter. "Another. ...Please."

She nodded and poured him another one. As she did so, he realized there was only a third of the bottle left. "You can leave the bottle." She raised another eyebrow but left the bottle and walked off to tend to her other customer.

He continued refilling his glass until the bottle was empty, willing each glass to bring him closer to forgetting about Cas, even if only for a little while.