Fic: In This Black Forest
Proving I can still write. Written right in the post entry box, no beta, hardly a proof-reading.
Title: In This Black Forest
Summary: No one cares that you're broken.
Spoilers: Season 7 Finale.
"Cas? Cas!" Goddamn it, Cas is gone. He fluttered off. He doesn't like fighting.
Dean's breath speeds up, and he pivots to face the red eyes in the dead black forest of purgatory. Purgatory. He's alone in the place where monsters tear each other to shreds, and all he has is his boot knife. Bobby's gone for good and Sam is in a different dimension and Cas is still crazy and he might as well be in Hell.
The red eyes are coming closer. Dean stoops for the short, stubby boot knife and holds it in front of him, never taking his eyes off the monster. It's crashing through the trees, it and another one, and another behind him, and they're just a massive hulk of dark flesh or fur or scales and red eyes like coals in an indistinct head and Dean is going to die, he's going to die in purgatory, and that will be it, nothing left.
Then a hand on his shoulder and a rush of cool air, the smell of snow and honey, the sensation of ragged feathers brushing his face. And he's in a cave, staring into Castiel's wide blue eyes. The angel's hand is still on his shoulder, still wearing that damn stupid mental hospital bracelet. The bracelet is crisp and clean, looks like he put it on just minutes ago, the same as Cas's clean white scrubs still with the creases from being folded and his white rubber-soled shoes without a single scuff or smudge.
Even without those trappings, though, Dean would still know that Cas is wrong, not really Cas anymore, because of his wide blue eyes and his wild frightened face, that aching sense of uncertainty that clings to Castiel now, ever-present and undeniable, however much Dean might like to wish it away. Cas is scared now, almost all the time, not of the world but of himself, and he carries the fear with him.
No one cares that you're broken, Dean told him, but it wasn't quite true. He lost Cas in that lake and he never got him back. Cas is right. The resurrections might as well be punishments, especially this one.
"Sorry," Cas says. There's that breathlessness in his voice, no longer the stoic, steady tone he'd always carried from the moment Dean met him. Changed as much as everything else. "I had to find somewhere to go. This is as safe as we're going to get."
Dean looks around. Something he doesn't want to look at too closely is burning in some corner of the cave, sending flickering tongues of yellow and red over the rough walls, giving just enough light to see each other by.
"Okay." Dean steps back, out of Castiel's grip. The hand holding his boot knife falls to his side, and he tips his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. They're going to get through this because they have to, that's all.
"I don't know what to do," Cas says, with the confiding tone of a confession.
"Neither do I, dude. I guess we just gotta survive till Sam can bust us out."
"He can't," Cas says, with more confidence than he's said anything since waking up. "No one can."
"Then tell us how we can get ourselves out."
Cas tilts his head to the side, eyebrows lowering slightly in confusion. Always so confused now, Castiel. "This is a prison for all the souls that couldn't be kept elsewhere, Dean. There's no way to get out. That would rather defeat the point of a prison, don't you think?"
He smiles and Dean can't handle it. He flails. "Damn it, Cas! What are we supposed to do then? We can't just stay here!"
Cas flinches and looks away, and Dean steps back yet further, breathing hard. Cas doesn't like fighting. Especially not with Winchesters.
Cas shakes his head, eyes still on the ground. At least he's managed to stay focused on this one topic instead of going on a tangent about bird or bugs or something, Dean will give him that. "I do not know, Dean. I know you don't care that I'm broken, but it remains a fact."
"Well, suck it up, Princess. We're in Purgatory and you're just gonna have to deal."
Dean turns his back, unwilling to see the effect of his words. He doesn't want to see more flinching, more downcast looks, doesn't want to see the light decrease, the fear grow, the shoulders hunch up.
Suck it up. Dad, Bobby, Frank, even Cas, that's what they all told him at various times. It was what he told Sam. It was what he told himself after Dad died, after he went to Hell, after Carthage, after Sam went to Hell, after Cas exploded in the lake, after Bobby died in the hospital. Suck it up.
No one cares that you're broken.
He stands there, breathing, and eventually there's that touch on his shoulder again, hesitant, shaking. Cas, reaching out again after Dean kicked him, the stupid mutt. Dean's shoulders slump and he closes his eyes.
"Dean... I will try. I don't know... I don't know if I can. But I will try."
"Well, that's a start."
Dean really can't ask for more. He wants to, but he can't.
(End)
Title: In This Black Forest
Summary: No one cares that you're broken.
Spoilers: Season 7 Finale.
"Cas? Cas!" Goddamn it, Cas is gone. He fluttered off. He doesn't like fighting.
Dean's breath speeds up, and he pivots to face the red eyes in the dead black forest of purgatory. Purgatory. He's alone in the place where monsters tear each other to shreds, and all he has is his boot knife. Bobby's gone for good and Sam is in a different dimension and Cas is still crazy and he might as well be in Hell.
The red eyes are coming closer. Dean stoops for the short, stubby boot knife and holds it in front of him, never taking his eyes off the monster. It's crashing through the trees, it and another one, and another behind him, and they're just a massive hulk of dark flesh or fur or scales and red eyes like coals in an indistinct head and Dean is going to die, he's going to die in purgatory, and that will be it, nothing left.
Then a hand on his shoulder and a rush of cool air, the smell of snow and honey, the sensation of ragged feathers brushing his face. And he's in a cave, staring into Castiel's wide blue eyes. The angel's hand is still on his shoulder, still wearing that damn stupid mental hospital bracelet. The bracelet is crisp and clean, looks like he put it on just minutes ago, the same as Cas's clean white scrubs still with the creases from being folded and his white rubber-soled shoes without a single scuff or smudge.
Even without those trappings, though, Dean would still know that Cas is wrong, not really Cas anymore, because of his wide blue eyes and his wild frightened face, that aching sense of uncertainty that clings to Castiel now, ever-present and undeniable, however much Dean might like to wish it away. Cas is scared now, almost all the time, not of the world but of himself, and he carries the fear with him.
No one cares that you're broken, Dean told him, but it wasn't quite true. He lost Cas in that lake and he never got him back. Cas is right. The resurrections might as well be punishments, especially this one.
"Sorry," Cas says. There's that breathlessness in his voice, no longer the stoic, steady tone he'd always carried from the moment Dean met him. Changed as much as everything else. "I had to find somewhere to go. This is as safe as we're going to get."
Dean looks around. Something he doesn't want to look at too closely is burning in some corner of the cave, sending flickering tongues of yellow and red over the rough walls, giving just enough light to see each other by.
"Okay." Dean steps back, out of Castiel's grip. The hand holding his boot knife falls to his side, and he tips his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. They're going to get through this because they have to, that's all.
"I don't know what to do," Cas says, with the confiding tone of a confession.
"Neither do I, dude. I guess we just gotta survive till Sam can bust us out."
"He can't," Cas says, with more confidence than he's said anything since waking up. "No one can."
"Then tell us how we can get ourselves out."
Cas tilts his head to the side, eyebrows lowering slightly in confusion. Always so confused now, Castiel. "This is a prison for all the souls that couldn't be kept elsewhere, Dean. There's no way to get out. That would rather defeat the point of a prison, don't you think?"
He smiles and Dean can't handle it. He flails. "Damn it, Cas! What are we supposed to do then? We can't just stay here!"
Cas flinches and looks away, and Dean steps back yet further, breathing hard. Cas doesn't like fighting. Especially not with Winchesters.
Cas shakes his head, eyes still on the ground. At least he's managed to stay focused on this one topic instead of going on a tangent about bird or bugs or something, Dean will give him that. "I do not know, Dean. I know you don't care that I'm broken, but it remains a fact."
"Well, suck it up, Princess. We're in Purgatory and you're just gonna have to deal."
Dean turns his back, unwilling to see the effect of his words. He doesn't want to see more flinching, more downcast looks, doesn't want to see the light decrease, the fear grow, the shoulders hunch up.
Suck it up. Dad, Bobby, Frank, even Cas, that's what they all told him at various times. It was what he told Sam. It was what he told himself after Dad died, after he went to Hell, after Carthage, after Sam went to Hell, after Cas exploded in the lake, after Bobby died in the hospital. Suck it up.
No one cares that you're broken.
He stands there, breathing, and eventually there's that touch on his shoulder again, hesitant, shaking. Cas, reaching out again after Dean kicked him, the stupid mutt. Dean's shoulders slump and he closes his eyes.
"Dean... I will try. I don't know... I don't know if I can. But I will try."
"Well, that's a start."
Dean really can't ask for more. He wants to, but he can't.
(End)