Everything That Matters - Chapter Four
In the past, Cas had always procured pills and other drugs by breaking and entering abandoned houses, but that wasn’t an option right now. The risk of getting caught was too high, and as fucked up as everything was, Cas didn’t want to go to jail.
He needed something a little stronger than alcohol, however, and now that he had his own money, he could procure what he needed, if he could find it. He just had to figure out who was dealing in this town.
The first bar was a bust; it was populated mostly with older people, both men and women, and there was a relaxed, casual atmosphere that didn’t feel as though it would support dealing. The second bar was rowdier, and as Cas pushed his way through the crowd, he caught a whiff of marijuana.
That was more like it.
Cas snagged an empty barstool and ordered a pint and a shot, downing the liquor in one gulp and moving immediately to the beer. He had to approach this situation carefully if he was to get what he wanted.
“I haven’t seen you here before.” The girl who slipped up next to him had an inviting smile and a low-cut blouse that left little to the imagination. “You new in town?”
“You could say that,” he replied. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’d love one.” Her hand rested on his arm. “My name is Shelly.”
“Cas.” He waved the bartender over. “One of whatever the lady is having.”
Cas asked a few questions and let Shelly do most of the talking. Given the way she was pressing up against him, she was just as interested in a little fun as he was. “You know, it would be nice if we had something stronger,” he said wistfully after he finished his second beer.
Shelly gave him a hard look. “How much stronger?”
Cas hoped she could read the sincerity in his expression and his voice as he said, “I can party with the best of them-or the worst.”
Shelly smiled. “I know of a private party.”
“Sounds perfect.”
They walked to the “private party,” since it was only a few blocks from the bar in one of the seedier parts of town. As Shelly led him inside the house, the smell of marijuana hit him like a wave, and Cas smiled. He could probably get high just from the secondhand smoke.
Shelly introduced him to half a dozen people, and Cas knew he wouldn’t be able to recall who any of them were later. He had to stay sober enough to get himself back to Dean’s place-eventually-but right now he had every intention of getting high as a fucking kite.
The thick blunt being passed around reached Cas, and he breathed in with a sigh of relief. When asked what he did, Cas claimed to be between jobs. “I’m staying with a friend at the moment.”
“And where were you before that?” one of the men asked. He looked to be in his early twenties, his long dark hair falling over his eyes.
Cas offered an eloquent shrug. “I was a soldier.”
“Iraq or Afghanistan?” another asked.
“Both.” Although not entirely true, Cas had been to both countries, and relatively recently, too.
“Heavy stuff, man,” was one reaction.
Cas smiled. “It was.”
After that, Cas found himself floating in a steadily growing haze. When the blunt was gone, Shelly grabbed his hand and led him to an empty bedroom. “I’ve got E, too,” she whispered in his ear. “It’ll make you fly.”
Cas felt himself stiffen, remembering a time when he really could fly, without chemical aid. For a moment, he thought about leaving, about abandoning this whole affair as a bad idea, sobering up, and going back to Dean’s. Shelly was too high to notice his sudden change in mood, though, and she was already searching her pockets for the pills.
Shaking off the agitation Shelly’s description had brought-Cas would never fly again, no matter how many pills he took-he leaned back on the bed and took the pill she held out.
He couldn’t fly, but he could forget. That would have to be enough.
Dean had immediately regretted handing Cas that wad of cash, mostly because he knew what Cas was likely to spend it on-and he’d been right. He had no idea what Cas was doing for money, because he was surely running low by now, but Dean didn’t want to ask.
Just like he didn’t want to ask who Cas was spending his time with, and how he was getting the drugs, or what he was taking-although Dean had smelled pot smoke on him.
Dean stared down at Cas’ sleeping form on the couch, where he was curled up under a couple of blankets. “Come on, Cas. Up and at ‘em. I need to talk to you.”
“Go away.”
“You know, I always had you pegged as a morning person,” Dean said cheerfully. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Come on.”
“I’m only a morning person if I haven’t gone to bed the night before,” Cas muttered. “Fuck off, Dean.”
“Language,” Dean replied. “I’m not going to let you get back to sleep, you know.”
“You fucking suck.”
Dean just grinned and went to pour a couple of cups of coffee.
Cas stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes later, his face pale and dark smudges under his eyes. Dean raised his eyebrows. “When was the last time you took a shower?”
“Are you suggesting that I smell?”
“I’m suggesting that you look like you haven’t eaten or showered this week,” Dean shot back. “You look like shit.”
“And that’s what you got me up to talk about?”
Dean sighed. “No, it isn’t. I’ve got Ben this coming weekend.”
“And?” Cas asked, his expression arch, one eyebrow lifted. “You don’t need me around to play video games.”
Dean frowned. “Remember what I told you about not letting this touch Ben? I meant it. Be sober, Cas. Promise me.”
Cas’ gaze was fuzzy, lacking the old intensity. Dean would never have guessed how much he would miss that thousand-yard stare. “Yeah, sure, Dean. I can be sober.”
“Promise me,” Dean demanded.
Cas held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I promise. I’ll be sober when Ben’s around.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dean hesitated. “You want to just stay in tonight? I’ll order a pizza, and I’ve got beer in the fridge.”
Cas gave him a strange look, and for a moment, Dean thought he might accept the offer, but then that smirk came back. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got other plans.”
“Who are you hanging out with, Cas?” Dean asked. “You’re never here.”
“Oh, you know, people,” Cas replied vaguely, with a wave of his hand. “Nobody in particular.”
Dean wanted to shake him. He wanted to tell Cas not to be such a fucking idiot, that there was more to life than getting high every night.
But how the hell was Dean supposed to convince him of that, when his own life wasn’t exactly a marvel of being satisfied?
“Cas-”
“Don’t worry about me, Dean,” Cas said, pushing off from the counter. “I can take care of myself. In fact, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now.”
“You’re not the only person who lives here,” Dean said, hating the helplessness rising up in him.
Cas gave him a pitying look. “No, but I may be the only person not lying about who I am.”
Dean grabbed him by the arm and shook him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I know I’m a useless waste of space,” Cas replied, his expression maddeningly calm. Nothing seemed to shake him when he was high like this; everything was there for his amusement. “But you seem to think that you’re normal. You’re a hunter, Dean. This life doesn’t suit you.”
Dean snarled. “This life suits me just fine, but if you want out, you know where the door is.”
Cas shrugged and slipped out of his grasp. “Just tell me when you want me to leave. I can probably find a couch to sleep on for a while.”
The anger drained out of Dean as quickly as it had risen up. No matter how angry he got at Cas, Dean couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving. He’d already lost so many people; he didn’t want to lose Cas, too.
“No. Don’t. I just-don’t make me choose, Cas.”
Cas’ face lost some of that bitter mockery. “Of course. I’m sorry, Dean.”
He sounded sincere enough, and Dean nodded, setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “I have to get to work. See you later.”
“I’ll see you,” Cas said.
Dean was already at work when his phone rang, and Bobby’s name showed up on the screen. “Hey, Bobby.”
“You still owe me a visit, boy.”
“Soon,” Dean said. “Maybe in a couple of weeks?”
Bobby sniffed. “Sure, and you can bring that ex-angel of yours, too.”
“Do you have any more information for me?” Dean asked.
“Nothing. I’ll keep looking, but you know it’s a long shot. Some things don’t have answers.”
“Like you and Cas coming back to life?” Dean asked.
Bobby grunted. “Something like that.”
“All right. Thanks, Bobby. I’ll be in touch.”
“How is Castiel?”
Dean’s laugh was bitter. “He’s great.”
“Dean?”
“He’s drugging himself into oblivion every night,” Dean replied. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”
“You could always kick him out,” Bobby suggested.
“I’d rather it not come to that,” Dean replied. “Look, I’m at work, and I’ve got to clock in. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Take care of yourself, son,” Bobby said gruffly.
“You too.” Dean ended the call and tucked the cell phone back in his pocket, then took a moment to breathe.
He had no idea what he was going to do; Dean had no idea what he wanted to do. He wished, desperately, for Sam’s presence. At least he’d have someone to bounce ideas off of, and this wasn’t something he could bring to Lisa.
He was, once again, on his own.
Cas had fallen into the same rhythm he’d found in the camp-minus the Croats. He slept most of the day, and went out at night. He met up with Shelly and her friends at the bar, or in run-down houses where the smoke was thick and sickly-sweet. He talked about how the drugs opened the mind, and paved the way to spiritual enlightenment.
In the camp, as a human, Cas had learned how to be charming, how to convince the reluctant to participate in orgies, how to ease the way. Now, he used that same charm to keep the drugs coming, to have casual, meaningless sex, to ease his entrance into this group of people.
Tonight, however, Shelly’s friends had left early, and it was just the two of them. “The road to enlightenment requires an open mind,” he said, watching the music as it moved across the room. He’d had enough cash left to purchase a few drops of acid, which he’d shared with Shelly and a few others.
Sharing, when he could, meant that others would share with him.
“This is the best kind of music. Can you hear it? It’s like a message,” Shelly said next to him, lying with her head in Cas’ lap. They were lounging in Shelly’s bedroom, in the apartment she shared with several others. She had a mattress on the floor that served as a bed, and a small card table in the corner, but that was it for furniture.
Cas didn’t mind; it was about what he’d had in the camp.
“It’s telling us that we must embrace the reflections of the universe that abide in each of us,” Cas explained, staring up at a stain on the ceiling, which seemed to be moving. He had no idea where this bullshit came from, but it entertained Shelly.
She giggled, squirming until she was half on top of him. “You say the funniest things. How did you learn all this stuff?”
“I was once an angel,” Cas confided, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. “Before I lost my grace.”
“You’re a fallen angel?”
“Yes.” He rolled his head so that he could look at her. Cas knew he was tripping, but he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t know how crazy he sounded. “Do you believe me?”
Shelly giggled again. “I think you’re completely loaded.”
“I am,” he confirmed. “Never mind.”
She kissed him clumsily, her hands pawing at the front of his t-shirt, and Cas tried to shake off the irritation he felt.
Dean, of course, knew the truth; Dean would have told him not to be such an ass. And Cas knew how far he had fallen.
Cas had an acute sense of his own shortcomings; he knew how weak he was.
Pushing Shelly away would take too much work, though, and so Cas allowed her to pull his t-shirt up over his head.
He went through the motions, listening to her gasps as he fingered her clit. A couple of years of practice, and Cas had become something of an expert at pleasing his partner, and he’d learned that was key to creating goodwill.
Goodwill, of course, being key to getting more sex and drugs, and getting her off cost Cas nothing. In fact, back in the camp, Cas had taken great pleasure in the fact that while Dean might be able to get any woman he wanted, they always came back to Cas for more. Dean, on the other hand, couldn’t give a woman more than a couple of nights before making the next stop.
Shelly certainly seemed satisfied as she cried out in pleasure and went limp underneath him. Cas was nearing the edge, too, and he thrust rapidly until his orgasm took him over.
Sex was one of the few things Cas liked about being human. He still thought the whole exercise a bit strange, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel good.
Sometimes he wondered why it had taken him so long to get around to having sex, since he liked it so much. Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to have sex as an angel.
And sometimes Cas thought about what it would be like to have sex with Dean.
He flopped back on the mattress, sweaty and pleasantly sated, and yet with the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.
Dean had a bad feeling from the moment he walked into an empty apartment. He’d told Cas that he had Ben for the weekend, and that he needed to be sober. Dean figured that Cas would run the same routine he had the last time Dean had had Ben for the weekend, but when Cas wasn’t on the couch when Dean walked in, he started wondering just how bad this was going to be.
The apartment smelled sour, like sex and B.O. and weed. Dean immediately began opening windows to air the place out.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I should probably get some of those candles like your mom has.”
“Yeah, it stinks in here,” Ben agreed easily. “Your place smells like weed, Dean.”
Dean glared at him. “Thanks, Ben. Real classy.”
“Come on, dude,” Ben replied, a phrase he’d probably picked up from Dean. “I have friends who are stoners.”
“Cas has had a hard time,” Dean defended. “It’s been tough.”
Ben shrugged. “Everybody has a hard life, right?”
“You’re way too cynical for thirteen-and-a-half,” Dean shot back.
“Thirteen and three-quarters,” Ben replied. “And I get it, Dean. I’m not going to tell Mom.”
Dean nodded, not trusting himself to reply. He wanted to thank Ben for not spilling his secrets to Lisa. He kept telling himself that it didn’t matter-he hadn’t asked Ben to lie, just to not tell Lisa everything.
And maybe, he thought, Lisa wouldn’t care, but Dean didn’t want to risk it.
“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, once he’d opened the windows to air the place out. “I bought hot dogs.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “What about a vegetable?”
“It’s Friday,” Dean replied. “We’ll make corn on the cob. Corn is a vegetable, right?”
Ben laughed. “Awesome.”
The hot dogs were sizzling out on the tiny grill on Dean’s balcony, and the corn was boiling on the stove in short order. Dean needed to sharpen his knives, and Ben seemed to enjoy watching him, so he set out the stone and the oil.
“How come you won’t teach me how to shoot?” Ben asked as Dean dragged the edge of the blade against the stone.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “When you get permission from your mom, I’ll teach you.”
Ben grimaced. “That’ll be the day after never.”
“And that’s why I haven’t taught you how to use a gun,” Dean said easily.
“But if you talk to her about it, maybe she’ll agree to let you teach me,” Ben wheedled. “Cole’s dad takes him hunting.”
“Talk to your mom,” Dean advised.
Ben heaved a sigh that only served to remind Dean even more of Sam at that age. The last two weeks had been hard, because having Cas around just reminded him of how much he’d lost.
For the last two years, Dean had done everything he could to put hunting and his old life behind him, and now he had a daily reminder of hunting, and of the family that he’d lost.
The door opened and Cas came stumbling inside. He looked like shit, and Dean stiffened as he realized that Cas was loaded, so high on something that he couldn’t quite focus. “Hey, Dean,” Cas said, his voice over-bright and over-loud.
Dean knew that his fury must have shown on his face, because Cas faltered slightly, his eyes shifting towards Ben, and by the time Dean had crossed the small apartment, Cas’ expression had gone uncertain. “Did I-”
“Shut up,” Dean hissed fiercely, grabbing Cas’ arm hard enough to leave bruises, and not caring. “Just shut the fuck up.”
This close, Dean could smell sex and sweat, as well as an acrid chemical odor he couldn’t place, and his anger went white-hot.
He hadn’t been this pissed off since Sam-
Dean ruthlessly pushed Cas outside, hauling him down the stairs and around the side of their building, where they at least had a shot of not being seen. He pushed Cas up against the tan-colored siding, which creaked under the onslaught.
“Dean, what-” Cas began, his pupils blown wide.
Dean slammed him back into the wall again to shut him up. “I told you to be sober, Cas. I fucking told you that you didn’t bring your shit around my son.”
Understanding dawned over Cas’ face, and his mouth twisted up into a bitter parody of a smile. “Well, now he’s seen a junkie.”
Dean nearly throttled him then. He doubted that this particular version of Cas would remember coming after him in an alley, tossing Dean against rough brick and beating the shit out of him because Dean had violated Cas’ faith.
Because Dean had said yes to Michael.
This Cas had lost faith in his Dean somewhere along the line; hell, this Cas had lost his faith in everything. That much, Dean might have been able to deal with-it was Cas’ life, and none of Dean’s business.
But Cas was making Dean choose, and as much as Dean might not want to lose Cas, he feared losing Ben more.
Afraid that he would strangle Cas if he kept holding onto him, Dean swung Cas around by his t-shirt and gave him a hard shove. Cas sprawled out in the grass, staring up at Dean and blinking owlishly in surprise.
“I can’t do this,” Dean said, and he hated how his voice came out in a choked whisper. “I didn’t want to choose, Cas, but I can’t do this. Get out of here. Don’t come back until you can stay clean-and I mean all the time.”
Cas snorted, his face twisted in derision. “Knew it wouldn’t be long before you lost patience.”
“Is that what this has been about?” Dean demanded. “Were you waiting for me to throw you to the wolves like he did?”
Cas’ eyes flicked away, then back again, and Dean thought he saw a glimmer of regret in Cas’ face. “No. I just-”
“No.” Dean cut him off. “I’ve got to talk to Ben, try to repair some of the damage you just caused. He’s staying with me through Sunday, but I’m taking him out tomorrow afternoon. You can get your stuff then. You’ve got until Monday to decide what you’re going to do.”
Dean walked away, didn’t even look back, even though his chest ached with a combination of sorrow and anger he hadn’t felt since Sam.
He paused just outside his apartment door to catch his breath and calm down. Dean didn’t want Ben to see him like this-not with his anger and memories so close to the surface.
Dean could still hear Sam’s voice as he informed Dean that he was going after Lilith with Ruby, no matter what Dean said-and as he asked Dean to let him take Lucifer back to his cage.
Dean generally didn’t think about it-didn’t want to think about it-but the fact that Sam had left Dean behind yet again still pissed him off. And how fucked up was that-being angry with Sam when he was suffering in hell?
Dean hadn’t wanted to be forced to make a choice like that again; he hadn’t wanted to choose between Cas and Ben, between a piece of his past, and what he’d chosen for his future. Dean was used to making hard choices, though.
After another deep breath, Dean opened the door to the smell of hot dogs. Ben had cleared off Dean’s knife-sharpening equipment and set the table. The hot dogs were on one plate, the corn on another, and the buns and condiments were set out.
“I, uh, pulled the hot dogs off before they burned,” Ben said. “And took care of the corn.”
“Thank you,” Dean said quietly. “Look, Ben-”
Ben shrugged. “I didn’t see anything.”
Dean smiled. “Fair enough.”
“Is he going to come back?” Ben asked softly.
Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. “I have no idea, son. I guess we’ll see.”
Cas had known he was forgetting something, and he hadn’t remembered what it was even after he’d walked into the apartment. It wasn’t until Dean had grabbed him and dragged him outside that Cas recalled that Dean had Ben for the weekend, and that he was supposed to be sober for it.
He clambered up from the ground and brushed himself off, trying without success to brush off the hurt he felt, or the sense that he’d really fucked up this time.
Cas ran a hand through his hair as he glanced up at the apartment building. He couldn’t see Dean’s apartment from this side, but Cas could imagine him sitting down to dinner with Ben. They could go on with their normal lives, while Cas was stuck. There was a part of him that wanted to turn his back and walk away, forget he’d ever heard of Dean Winchester.
There was nothing tying him to Dean, nothing that said he had to follow Dean’s orders, or do what Dean said. Dean wasn’t his charge, and he wasn’t Cas’ leader. There was no apocalypse to stop, no end of the world to worry about.
He could walk away now-and he knew he wouldn’t.
At some point along the way, long before he’d lost faith in Dean, Cas had transferred his loyalty from God to Dean. Even though Cas still believed that he’d made the right decision in following Dean, and in disobeying orders, even though Cas had been certain that God would not want the world to end in flames-ultimately, Cas’ first loyalty had been changed to Dean.
Dean had proven himself unworthy, but Cas had still followed him. This Dean, though, who had saved the world, and dealt with Sam’s loss, and cared enough about his son that he would kick Cas out-
Cas would have followed Dean to hell and back and had-this Dean, he could follow to hell and still believe in.
It was a fine line, but Cas had learned to appreciate subtleties.
Cas wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to convince Dean that he was serious about staying sober, but he was willing to try, because in the end he couldn’t picture a life without Dean.
Of course, that left him at loose ends until he could go back to Dean’s-or until he could convince Dean that he was clean and sober and going to stay that way. Cas wasn’t sure that was feasible. Cas couldn’t go back to Shelly; he’d end up getting high again, and Cas suspected that his resolve wouldn’t last long in the face of temptation.
He didn’t have enough money left for a motel, even a cheap one, but there was a salvage yard at the edge of town, and Cas had learned from Dean how find shelter. At least the midsummer temperatures wouldn’t drop below 60 or 70, and he’d probably be just as comfortable outside as in.
He needed the time to get sober, to get his head on straight, and to figure out how to convince Dean to let him try again.
Chapter Five