Find You Somewhere In-between
Title: Find You Somewhere In-between
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 9.23
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel (could be seen as either pre-slash or friendship)
Word Count: 900
Summary: Dean is different, no way around it, and no way back. Yet there is a kind of...peace, somewhere between who he was and what he's become.
A/N: A coda of sorts to 9.23, not quite sure where this came from...it's feels a bit abstract *shrugs* He's not human, but not like most demons either.
......................
Thing is, Dean remembers being human, the whole messy deal, every up and every down. He remembers fire and family, pain and love, the sleek shine of black paint and the feel of a gun in hand. He remembers the rush, the desperate hold on what little he had, the slick of blood interrupted by moments coloured with laughter amongst the red. A look from a better father, a brother at his side, the shine of light off a shot glass shared with friends before it faded, the tilt of a yet to be fully learned smile before a fight.
He remembers, but it isn't the same...he isn't the same, not anymore.
Sometimes it still takes him, that overpowering need to kill, to slaughter, wash his hands in blood and feel the rush of the mark. Mostly it is a distant hum, simply a part of him, like the beat of his heart.
He still spends much of his life on the road, just in a more abstract way now, the thrum of an engine replaced by the will to simply relocate. Sometimes it feels like running, like he can never run far enough from things long gone.
Sometime the brush of displaced air against his skin feels like home.
......................
Castiel can remember Dean as a human. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he didn't.
Some days he can do nothing but watch rage fill up all the spaces inside and bubble over, watch the Dean he remembers get lost amongst it all. Can see the struggle of who he was and what he's become ebb and wane before settling somewhere in between.
He feels guilt when he is okay with that.
Dean's not the same, but somehow still is. It's a contradiction which feels right; Dean is never anything if not defiantly contrary.
Sometimes he doesn't see Dean for weeks, but that doesn't matter. It's only a matter of time till he feels the pull of Dean's prayers, a hushed whisper of abstract thought, like emotions washed out and drifting to the surface. An echo of his prayers as they'd been as a human, yet in some ways clearer, distilled to their simpler parts.
Castiel always answers. Lifts his head and stretches his wings, landing with a shift of air at Dean's side.
......................
They watch Sam. Standing side by side in the fading light, the cooling autumn air moves between them. Sometimes they go in, sometimes they don't. They both know Sam still researches ways to fix things. There isn't one, but he keeps looking, like it's a habit he's not quite ready to let go.
Castiel can tell this will be one of the nights they won't go in, can see it in the hold of Dean's shoulders. They stand there for an hour before Dean shifts, bumping a shoulder against Castiel's in silent goodbye before disappearing.
Castiel sees Sam look up briefly as if he heard something, before the woman Sam is dating calls for him and he puts away the books, smiling as he leaves Castiel's view.
It makes it easier to leave and come back another night.
......................
It's not always easy, some days Dean rails against what he has become, feels his skin crawl and wants to puke. But it's getting better. He still has Sam. He stills hunts, more often on his own or with Castiel these days. Sam is settled into the life he always wanted, a little slower, more easy with a laugh as time passes. At least that much turned out alright. It feels like something inside Dean's chest lets go every time he sees Sam smile, watches him go about his life.
It feels a little bit like freedom.
Dean smiles, thinking of Castiel and his predilection for forests and oceans. It's something he understands in a way he never could before. Something he seeks out if he's honest with himself, those moments where he can just be. What was it Crowley had said? Howl at the moon. He doesn't howl or let himself go wild, but he does loose himself in the simpler things sometimes.
He's walking down a street in Chicago when the thought of Castiel and the ocean drags at him.
......................
Castiel loves a little outcrop of rock off the coast of Chile. Loves the feel of salt spray on his skin, the way the cold wind tugs at his coat. It's wild and untamed. He stands there for hours, letting his thoughts drift. He doesn't move when he feels the shift of air as Dean arrives, just lifts his face to the wind and spray, eyes closed, his lips twitching in a faint smile.
Dean moves close enough that Castiel can feel their shoulders brush. They don't say anything; it should feel odd this silence, but so much has changed. This is something they do now, stand side by side in the still untamed parts of the world and let everything go, for at least a little while. So many years behind them, a whole lot more ahead.
Later they will go and drink coffee, see Sam, maybe hunt something.
But right now...there's nothing but the feel of salt and cold air on skin, and no need for words.
......................
.
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 9.23
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel (could be seen as either pre-slash or friendship)
Word Count: 900
Summary: Dean is different, no way around it, and no way back. Yet there is a kind of...peace, somewhere between who he was and what he's become.
A/N: A coda of sorts to 9.23, not quite sure where this came from...it's feels a bit abstract *shrugs* He's not human, but not like most demons either.
......................
Thing is, Dean remembers being human, the whole messy deal, every up and every down. He remembers fire and family, pain and love, the sleek shine of black paint and the feel of a gun in hand. He remembers the rush, the desperate hold on what little he had, the slick of blood interrupted by moments coloured with laughter amongst the red. A look from a better father, a brother at his side, the shine of light off a shot glass shared with friends before it faded, the tilt of a yet to be fully learned smile before a fight.
He remembers, but it isn't the same...he isn't the same, not anymore.
Sometimes it still takes him, that overpowering need to kill, to slaughter, wash his hands in blood and feel the rush of the mark. Mostly it is a distant hum, simply a part of him, like the beat of his heart.
He still spends much of his life on the road, just in a more abstract way now, the thrum of an engine replaced by the will to simply relocate. Sometimes it feels like running, like he can never run far enough from things long gone.
Sometime the brush of displaced air against his skin feels like home.
......................
Castiel can remember Dean as a human. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he didn't.
Some days he can do nothing but watch rage fill up all the spaces inside and bubble over, watch the Dean he remembers get lost amongst it all. Can see the struggle of who he was and what he's become ebb and wane before settling somewhere in between.
He feels guilt when he is okay with that.
Dean's not the same, but somehow still is. It's a contradiction which feels right; Dean is never anything if not defiantly contrary.
Sometimes he doesn't see Dean for weeks, but that doesn't matter. It's only a matter of time till he feels the pull of Dean's prayers, a hushed whisper of abstract thought, like emotions washed out and drifting to the surface. An echo of his prayers as they'd been as a human, yet in some ways clearer, distilled to their simpler parts.
Castiel always answers. Lifts his head and stretches his wings, landing with a shift of air at Dean's side.
......................
They watch Sam. Standing side by side in the fading light, the cooling autumn air moves between them. Sometimes they go in, sometimes they don't. They both know Sam still researches ways to fix things. There isn't one, but he keeps looking, like it's a habit he's not quite ready to let go.
Castiel can tell this will be one of the nights they won't go in, can see it in the hold of Dean's shoulders. They stand there for an hour before Dean shifts, bumping a shoulder against Castiel's in silent goodbye before disappearing.
Castiel sees Sam look up briefly as if he heard something, before the woman Sam is dating calls for him and he puts away the books, smiling as he leaves Castiel's view.
It makes it easier to leave and come back another night.
......................
It's not always easy, some days Dean rails against what he has become, feels his skin crawl and wants to puke. But it's getting better. He still has Sam. He stills hunts, more often on his own or with Castiel these days. Sam is settled into the life he always wanted, a little slower, more easy with a laugh as time passes. At least that much turned out alright. It feels like something inside Dean's chest lets go every time he sees Sam smile, watches him go about his life.
It feels a little bit like freedom.
Dean smiles, thinking of Castiel and his predilection for forests and oceans. It's something he understands in a way he never could before. Something he seeks out if he's honest with himself, those moments where he can just be. What was it Crowley had said? Howl at the moon. He doesn't howl or let himself go wild, but he does loose himself in the simpler things sometimes.
He's walking down a street in Chicago when the thought of Castiel and the ocean drags at him.
......................
Castiel loves a little outcrop of rock off the coast of Chile. Loves the feel of salt spray on his skin, the way the cold wind tugs at his coat. It's wild and untamed. He stands there for hours, letting his thoughts drift. He doesn't move when he feels the shift of air as Dean arrives, just lifts his face to the wind and spray, eyes closed, his lips twitching in a faint smile.
Dean moves close enough that Castiel can feel their shoulders brush. They don't say anything; it should feel odd this silence, but so much has changed. This is something they do now, stand side by side in the still untamed parts of the world and let everything go, for at least a little while. So many years behind them, a whole lot more ahead.
Later they will go and drink coffee, see Sam, maybe hunt something.
But right now...there's nothing but the feel of salt and cold air on skin, and no need for words.
......................
.