Welcome to Heartbreak
Part VI: Pale, sweet healing
Written by oneofyourfrenchgirls
The sun shines brightly, reflecting on the hoods of broken cars and in the water puddles. The air is fresh, the way it only is after a night of rain, and Dean feels alive for the first time in weeks. After a shower and being close to force-fed by his little brother, wearing clean clothes and newly shaven, he feels almost human again.
The silence is comfortable, the breeze chill despite the strong sun, and Dean closes his eyes as he leans back on the hood of the Impala. His shoes are thrown a little too far away, so he'll have to get his socks muddy when he decides to go back inside. However, he doesn't think that he'll be ready to go back inside to the three morons inside for quite some time.
There is a cat wandering around in the piles of tires, making tiny sounds as it searches for a comfortable spot to sunbathe. Dean has never been a cat person - or any kind of animal person, really - but the thing seems pretty harmless, so he doesn't mind when the cat jumps up on the hood next to him, wandering up on the roof of the Impala before settling down.
Dean would be annoyed by the tiny footprints, but he can't find it in him to care at the moment. He needs to wash her anyway.
His mind wanders from cleaning his baby to drinking. A bottle of Jack would suit nicely in this picture, he thinks, there's nothing like booze to scare away demons. Of course, this thought leads to actual demons. Demons and levithans, what's the world coming to? A king of Hell that wants to literally fuck his ass. Well, he can't really blame the supernatural beings for lacking originality.
Dean thinks of Castiel. He can feel the angel being close, but he doesn't feel the need to open his eyes. Cas is too kind, really. The angel could just as easily go back up to heaven and pretend that they never met, but instead he lingers close by and reassures them all with his presence. Though, Dean is sure that neither Bobby nor Sam could tell if Cas is nearby even if the angel stood right behind them.
Dean can't help but wonder what Castiel would think of him if he actually accepted the deal that is being offered. Dean's butt is a small price to pay for billions of human life. And, really, it isn't as if Dean would hate it. Crowley showed him the new Hell when they were in the hotel room.
It doesn't look that bad, actually. No meat hooks, no black clouds or red, burning suns. In fact, it looks more like a fancy mental asylum than anything. Long waiting lines with impatient, angry people in what appears to be their actual meatsuits. Dean has to agree with Crowley that putting people in an almost never-ending queue is sadistic enough for making deals. Of course, Dean never got to see to what the line actually lead to.
Dean thinks of the children, the parents, the lovers and the friends he can save by entering this deal. He thinks of what Sam will think, what Bobby will think, what Cas will think. He thinks of the other angels, but their opinion is worthless anyhow - what do he care if they think of him lesser?
He thinks of what Crowley wants. Someone to share everything with, he said, but Dean doesn't know if demons can feel loneliness. Can they even feel sexual pleasure? Can angels? Is it all part of a dirty game, the king of Hell wanting to provoke the angels into a new war by sullying the righteous man? The king of Hell wanting to provoke Dick Roman by leashing a human - a hunter - without breaking a sweat? Would Roman even care? If so, would there be a war between demons and these aliens here on earth?
"You're gonna get a headache," someone says by his shoulder and a big shadow covers Dean's face.
He can't help the way his mouth twitches into a weird smile, and he opens his eyes to see his little brother looking down on him. Sam's shoulders are tense, a nervous stance he gets when he is out in the open, ready for potential threats. Dean almost wants to tell him to calm down, tell him that Cas is right by the porch.
"Bobby's making some kinda lunch," Sam continues, wrinkles appearing on his nose in distaste, "beans and canned potatoes."
Dean gets up, motioning for Sam to get him his shoes, and Sam heads back inside - slowly, slowly so that Dean won't be alone outside. Dean jumps off the hood, the cat not even opening its eyes as the Impala rocks a little. He follows Sam inside, smiling a little the way Castiel is hiding.
The following days are a mess.
Dick is back on the map, or, well, he is everywhere. Every news station, radio station and in the newspapers. Even the glossy gossip mags are covered with his ugly - ok, he's not ugly, Dean has to admit - face, talking about Roman's expensive suits and the pretty models he surrounds himself with.
Crowley hasn't reared his head since he talked to Bobby, and Dean is quite grateful. A few more pros to his pros and cons-list, and he'll surrender.
Ever since Dean woke up after two nights of good sleep, the tension in the Singer household cleared up. There is still the urge to down a few bottles of beer, but Dean keeps his eyes off of the alcohol even as Bobby sips on a glass of scotch. He doesn't want to go back to that bad headspace, the space where everyone is the enemy and Dean can only drink until he pukes.
Bobby flips through book after book on deals, just like before, when Dean made his very first demon deal. Sam is scrolling on his laptop, probably on leviathans, only ever looking up whever Dean shifts and grunts at the stupid movie he's watching. Castiel stays next to his side, invisible but present, and Dean is the only one who knows that the angel is here.
It's quite pleasant, and Dean soon falls asleep on the lumpy couch.
To Be Continued
A/N: I'm gonna start writing more, promise! Sorry about this mini-chapter :) Check out my tumblr (supernaturalmountain) for more info and drabbles!