Desiderium
A/N: First and foremost, this work was inspired by the tumblr post made by user SideofAngels and can be found here:
post/637957525324660736/secret-good-version-of-15x20-in-my-head-where-dean
This is dedicated to you, and to the beautiful fandom.
I have had a genuine connection with Dean throughout the years. My own past trauma at times has paralleled Dean's. 15x19 and 15x20 left me with a feeling of unsettledness for the character. I had hoped for him that defeating Chuck would mean that he could begin to get help so that he could one day be blissfully happy. He sacrificed so much to save the world that his early death seemed untimely and inappropriate. In my opinion the finale did not show character growth on Dean's end despite Jenson Ackles' acting and development of the character.
While this is a Destiel text, I do hope that the brother's relationship comes through in an authentic way. My goal is to not produce something pulpy but to create something for the other fans who were left disappointed by the ending of an otherwise fantastic show.
Another one of my primary goals of this work is to provide accurate depiction of bisexuality. I have seen network media use my sexuality as a trope that is largely misunderstood. Bisexuals are often over sexualized, disregarded as either going through a phase or truly still closeted homosexuals. None of this is representative of what it is like to be bisexual.
I appreciate your thoughts, and ideas immensely and I hope that you do review. While I am a fan, I am only one person with my own biases and ideas for the characters, but that does not necessarily make them the best or the most true to the characters.
Lastly, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this and review it. It matters a lot to me, and I promise future author notes will be shorter.
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Desiderium: an ardent desire or longing especially a feeling of grief for something lost.
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Chapter 1: Despair
Sam walked into the main room of the Bunker late after a night with Eileen. The table was covered with alcohol, photos, and research books. He spied his brother folded on the floor in a fetal position, using a whiskey bottle as a pillow, with stains from tears silently shed earlier that night on his face. It hurt to see his brother in such a state...so lost... Eyeing the photographs, one in particular stood out, it was of Dean, Jack, and Cas in the Impala taken on a whim by Sam one afternoon on the road. His heart panged with loss, and tears began to form in his eyes. Another minute locking eyes with Cas and Jack, and he was certain that he would be in the same position as his brother was now. Out of sad and nervous energy, Sam began cleaning up bottles and sopping up pools of spilled liquor. He cursed himself as two bottles clinked together causing his brother to stir.
A soft and sad groan escaped Dean's mouth. Sam took that as his cue to leave and come back for the next round of bottles. This routine continued for a week with new bottles each night and the stacks of research books growing taller. While Sam was cleaning up things on this latest night he was too tired to pay attention to his steps and his foot kicked his brother's boot a bit too hard.
Dean turned onto his side and mumbled "I loved him."
"I know, Dean. I loved him too." Sam spoke softly.
It was Dean's drunken reply that startled Sam the most, "No, Sammy, I loved him loved him." A tidal wave of pain and emotion washed over his brother's face and tears filled his eyes. Tears that Sam thought would never stop flowing.
"I-I know, Dean..." Sam let out a small sigh. He was helpless against Dean's grief. It was the first time he ever heard his brother say how he felt out loud. It was obvious to Sam, and everyone else for that matter, early on, when Dean and Cas had begun to grow close, that they had something more than a "profound bond" between them. Possibly it was the way the angel's eyes would linger just a little too long on Dean's face, or how Cas would stand just a little too close to his brother. Maybe it was the way Dean would straighten up at the sight of Cas, the same way that he would when around a particularly attractive woman. Perhaps it was his unyielding faith in the angel. No, it was far simpler, it was the fact that those lingering glances were returned with a certain sparkle in Dean's eye that no one else, not even Lisa, could bring out.
Sam had assumed that the other Winchester brother was oblivious to these feelings, surely Cas was. They were so blatant that only those who felt them were in the dark. They were always too close to see. Except for when they were on an extended "break" either due to heaven, Purgatory, or plain idiocracy. During those times, Sam often wondered when Dean would finally spill and admit he was in love with his best friend but it never came. He worried that with Cas's death Dean would be lost to the pits of his own despair. His own version of the Empty on Earth. Dean being Dean refused to speak of it. Not even a whisper of the sorrow that he wore so clearly on his face and carried on his shoulders.
Sam racked his brain for something, a lyric from a song or a profound quote on grief that he could say and help ease some of Dean's heartbreak but he found nothing would suffice. Sure, they had lost friends, family, even Sam had lost the love of his life more than once, but when you've had such a profound loss like that, there simply are no words that can console the soul.
A small hiccup broke his focus, "He loved me back..." a broken sob..."he loved me back and I couldn't tell him." Tears flowed freely and quickly from his face. Nevertheless Dean continued, "I was too afraid...I was too afraid to let somebody in...and now?" His voice cracked, "it's too late," and he dissolved into more sobs. Sam sat beside his brother and tentatively placed a hand on his forearm.
"Why do I do this? I had a chance and I didn't take it. I let him go like I always do..."
"We were fighting God, Dean...m-m-maybe you didn't have a choice—"
"No Sammy. I had a choice."
"Dean, think about it. Our parents fell in love because of a cupid. Eileen and I weren't a choice. I mean now yeah but—"
"No Sam." Dean's voice turned from sorrow to serious. "Chuck said that every time Cas and I followed orders. In all the other worlds Cas never fell from heaven. We never became best friends. We never..." he trailed off his tone returning sorrowful. "The only thing that was real in this entire world was Cas and I. And I let him go like I always did. This time though he's not coming back, Sammy, and I gotta live with that. Everyday."
"We will find a way to get him back. We always do." Sam said softly.
"You wanna take on Mega hell?" Dean looked scornful. "Sammy the last time we took on anything this big every single person was zapped off the god forsaken planet!"
"Cas has been back and forth between the Empty and here a few times." The younger Winchester was ever the optimist.
"That's because Cas is—was an angel. Strict no human policy remember? I've read every book in here forwards and backwards searching for weeks. You can't summon the empty on Earth. Especially not us."
"We can find another angel or a-a demon even to help us. Or or Jack."
"Sam, this time is different.
"Why? If anything we have more help on our side." Ever hopeful Sam Winchester couldn't help but want to try. Fighting through the grief was somewhat second nature to him.
"Cas...made a deal..." Dean looked more in pain recounting that fateful night to Sam than ever before. "I said 'please don't do this, Cas' like my life depended on it, but the Empty was there and he shoved me out of the way and let it take him willingly."
A sob louder than Dean would ever let out in front of someone escaped. He sat heads in his hands, shoulders shaking, breath hard and irregular for a while. Inconsolable.
"I should have fought for him. I should have followed him into the Empty. I should have done something." Dean was mercilessly hard on himself. "I didn't even have the nerve to say 'I love you too'. I couldn't even give him that. He gave everything to us. To me...He saw things in me that I only dreamed of being. I loved him. I knew I loved him. I've loved him for years and I didn't tell him...I didn't tell him," and a quiet calm fell on him. Dean allowed Sam to hold him through his sobs. Almost like a prayer Dean continued so quietly Sam could barely hear the repeated I-loved-hims coming from his brother. He had no idea how horribly his brother was taking Cas' loss.
Although Sam had questions he decided that they could wait until the morning. In the meantime he was needed with his brother. He gently coaxed Dean to his feet, his be other swaying from a combination of alcohol, loss, and exhaustion. When Dean was steadied, they began the slow walk down the hall and to his bedroom. Sam pulled a pair of flannel pajama pants, a t-shirt, and Dean's favorite grey robe and set them on the bed next to Dean.
"Get changed. You will feel a little more comfortable. I am going to the kitchen to get you water and tylenol. Have you eaten?"
Dean looked up through his eyelashes, eyes swollen and red and said, "No. I'm not hungry."
"That's ok. I'm going to make you a PB & J anyways. You don't have to eat it if you don't want it but it'll be there if your stomach changes its mind." With that, Sam left Dean's room. After a few steps he paused and pulled out his phone. Eileen had called. Rather than video her back, Sam decided instead to text her:
Dean opened the floodgates about Cas. It's really bad. Got to stay home for a while. Might need help with him. Talk tomorrow AM?
Read 1:04 am
Ok, you got it. Family is #1. Good night, I love you.
I love you too.
Read 1:09 am
Sam finished getting everything and walked back to Dean's room in record time. When he entered, Dean's eyes were shut and he was leaning against the back of his bed, lamp still on. He was relieved to see his brother asleep in his own bed even if his position was surely going to result in neck pain tomorrow. Sam placed everything on his table and went to turn off the lamp. When Deans hand stopped him.
"Leave it on."
Sam silently picked up his brother's clothes off the floor, fishing in the back pocket he pulled out his phone and plugged it into the charger, and shut his bedroom door. Lamp light pouring through the empty space between the door and the floor.
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Dear reader,
Reviews are more than appreciated, they are encouraged.
The weight of this topic is not lost on me, nor is the environment in which it was written in. If you or a loved one is struggling due to loss or due to the COVID-19 pandemic, help is available for you.
USA helpline: 1-800-442-4673
USA Suicide Prevention line: 1-800-273-8255
You are wanted, you are loved. I am thankful that you have taken the time out of your life, wherever you are to read this story, and I do hope that one day the skies will clear for you too.
