[Risking Cas for Dean's safety? No. Absolutely not. Out of the question. He'd rather be demon chow than let that happen to Cas. Or Sam. When someone starts ranking as high as Sam on the Dean Winchester Scale of Importance, it means something. It means a lot.
He watched Cas move food around his plate rather than looking at the angel's face, because it was easier. He wasn't good at being open, being emotional, he wasn't good at asking for things.
But he'd damn sure learn, because Cas was worth saving.
His fingers played absently with the outer seam of his jeans, where he could feel the metal of a lockpick.]
Yeah, you keep sayin' that. I wanna tell you a story, Cas.
[He muttered it darkly under his breath, then shifted back to cross his arms. His head dropped a little, chin almost to his chest, and he stared at the blanket.]
Once upon a time, there was this stupid little kid that always did everything right. He'd rescue cats, help people, hell, he was practically walking wheels on meals. This one time, there was a dog that'd been hit by a car on the side of the road. Little bastard made me pull over so he could bandage the leg. Drove thirty five goddamn miles to the nearest animal hospital.
The kid was a friggin' saint. Thought he could save the world.
[He blew out a low breath.]
When that kid figured out he had power, naturally he figured he use it to make the world a better place. He started going down a slippery slope, drinking demon blood, doing more and more questionable things in the name of the greater good. Because he was good. But what he was doing? Sure as fuck wasn't.
[He looked up at Cas seriously, eyes intense.]
And no matter how many goddamn people told him it, he was convinced was right. But let me tell you something about good intentions, Cas. They pave the road to hell. Sam lost control, got so wrapped up in doing the right thing that he started ignoring all of the shitty, terrible things he was doing in the process, and then he started the god damn apocalypse.
[Why was Dean making this so much harder then it already was? Castiel was doing his duty as the Winchesters guardians, he was assuring that no harm came to both Dean and Sam. The angel had already done enough damage by raising Sam from the pit with out his soul in tact.
Cas needed to fix this, he couldn't allow Raphael to gain the upper hand. He wouldn't.
It pained Castiel to see Dean trying so hard, trying to be loyal and show Castiel the errors of his ways but the problem was that there were no errors. This was the way that it had to be. And if Castiel died in the process then so be it. It was worth it if it meant Dean and Sam Winchester were still alive.
The understanding approach wasn't working. He'd have to go with a new tactic, as much as it pained him to do so. The angel was silent as he listened to the story before his eyes met those of Dean. The angel tensed his jaw before setting a cold stare back.]
If I remember correctly it was you who started the apocalypse by wielding to Alistair and torturing soul in hell.
[Cas swallowed, dropping his gaze.]
Sam was only a human, I'm an angel. I can control this. And you find my decision to be so wrong yet you offer no other solutions because there aren't any. Dean, I have no choice. If I don't do this then Raphael wins and the earth is destroyed. I have to save the planet we had fought so hard to protect. I refuse to let it burn to the ground because I was unwilling to make the sacrifice that was needed to survive.
[Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't anything working? There had to be some right combination of words, some right... something? He's not going to mess this one up- not like he fucks up every other important thing in his life. Every job he's ever had, every person he's ever been with, every time he's been presented with the chance to keep things from going south, he's failed.
Every.
Single.
God damned.
Time.
But not this time. He can't let it happen this time. He has time, he's got this room holding Cas in place, he's got a grip on his temper, he's certain of the right path, he's got all of the ingredients to fix this.
So why isn't it working?
Why can't he keep this one? This one person? Please.
Cas's words cut like a knife, and he draws back a little, eyes flashing hurt and jaw tensing in fruitless defiance. Because it's the truth.
The muscles below his ears twitch once, twice.]
Yeah. It was. It was a mistake, and you saved me. Now I'm trying to return the favor. Don't let this be your Rack, Cas. Don't let Crowley be your Alistair.
[Oh Dean. Poor Dean. It isn't anything you're doing wrong, its just that some people don't want to be saved. Castiel... doesn't want to be saved. This is his duty, his mission, to take on this sacrifice so you wouldn't have to. Cas was sound in mind and body and he knew what he was doing.
He was saving the world.
Castiel had to, he had to do this. There was no chance in fighting Raphael on his own. There was no way to go back. Crowley held the answer, and when Castiel took on the souls of Purgatory he would be strong enough to finally put an end to Raphaels reign of terror.
You have no idea how Castiel prayed that things would be different. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to lie and betray Dean and Sam. He just... had to.
The angel lifted his gaze back up to meet those greens of Deans and he tilted his head ever so slightly.]
I was under orders. I'm an angel, what I am doing is right and just. It.. must be done.
[He doesn't want to be saved? Dean didn't want to be saved. He fought, down there in the pit. Most of it is blurry, but he remembers knowing he deserved to be down there. He remember there was a woman on the rack, with her ribcage split open, and her heart was still beating. He could see the muscles pulling and contracting, and she was pleading to deaf ears. He didn't want to be saved.
Why does Cas get a choice?
Why can Dean never be selfish?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, and shoved off of the bed.]
Eat your food.
[He muttered absently pacing toward the door and then back again.
It's like he's being faced with two locked doors, here. The only two exits in the hallway, and they were both barred. Cas refused to opt out of this fucked up plan, and Dean refused to let the alternative happen. His own righteous moral compass refused to support this shit.
It was like the situation with Michael all over again. A voice in his head screaming say yes, say yes, say yes say yes-
He was broken, back when he decided to agree.
Maybe he's a little bit broken now.
He crossed the threshold and grabbed a bottled water from one of the twelve packs Bobby kept down there for emergencies. Twisted off the top and came back. Sloshed it over a cleaning rag, and began to scrub slowly at one of the spray-painted symbols near the door.]
[Castiel hardly has a choice. He has to do this. Don't you think he'd rather be on earth, with Sam and Dean, solving cases and helping them rather then betraying their trust every damn time? Castiel had no choice in the matter. He had to do this or else everything they fought for, all the sacrifices they had made, would be rendered useless. It would all be for naught and Castiel could not allow that to happen. He refused to.
The angel wants so badly to relent, to succumb to Deans wishes and believe there is another way but he can't because there isn't.
Dean, Castiel loved you before he even understood what love was.
The food remained untouched but the angel watched Dean none the less. Watched him pace, think, look upset. It was ironic that this was just like the situation with Dean and Michael. And it took Sams unwilling faith in Dean that would make the man see light of day. On this case it wouldn't work. There was just no other option.
Dean began to wash away the wards from the wall and Castiel stood. He walked silently over to where Dean was and rested his hand over Deans wrist, stopping the motion in place. The angel swallowed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the bone jut of Deans back.Oh how he wished this were different. How he prayed. His voice was soft, in a barely there whisper and cracked at the end of his declaration as he squeezed Deans wrist with a shaky touch.]
[Does he think the angel would be rather down on Earth with them? Does he think Cas would rather be down in the mud, running from motel to motel? Does he think Cas would rather be with him when everyone else runs away?
No.
He doesn't think that at all.
And he doesn't think Cas has to, either. Because they fought for choice. Cas doesn't have to do a god damn thing. He just is, because he's an angel, and no matter how different he thought Cas to be, angels apparently only operate in absolutes. They operate in finalities, fatalities, they operate in ends. And they operate in their Holy Divine Judgement being better, smarter, stronger than any stupid choice these little humans on this little planet could make. Because they're only human, right? They couldn't possibly fight for themselves.
They couldn't possibly win. Because they're not angels. Because Dean's not an angel. Because he's not good enough. Or strong enough.
Fuck that.
Cas's touch against his back makes him freeze, shoulders locking in place, hand stiffening beneath Cas's fingers.
Despite all of this, the situation, his stupid wretched fucking retarded heart gives a painful squeeze at the touch, reminding him of feelings he'd never had the time to analyze- feelings that were rendered completely irrelevant, completely null and fucking void thanks to this situation. Thanks to Cas's choice.
It hurts. It hurts that not only is he losing Cas, he's losing him at the height of the realization of just how much he loves the stupid fucking angel. Lemon juice on a paper cut.
One final fucking cosmic laugh at Dean Winchester as he gives up.
He stays still beneath Cas's fingers for maybe three seconds too long before he snaps into action, shoving at the other's chest and then punching him solidly in the fucking jaw.
Which, yeah, no, he knew it would hurt before he did it, and he's probably just broken a few fingers, but he doesn't flinch or acknowledge it. Instead, he drops his eyes immediately after, to somewhere just to the left of Cas's shoulder, jaw tensing and locking and unlocking as words swell in his throat.]
You.
[He shakes his head just an inch, and if his eyes are shining...
Whatever.
He's just so fucking.
He's just so fucking done.
With all of it. That's it. He's done. Fuck the world, fuck saving it again, fuck trusting-]
Don't. Just. Don't. You never-
[He can't even make the words come out, now. Can't explain how angry he is, how Cas doesn't get to apologize for something that he's perfectly capable of stopping. How angry he is that he's losing the angel, how he doesn't get to just use Dean's feelings for him like that, how he can't feel sympathy, or sadness, because he might just shatter into a thousand pieces the moment he lets himself crack.
How he's not going to beg, but he would if he thought it would matter. But it wouldn't. Because he doesn't.
[Oh, Castiel would. He so would. That is his paradise, staying on earth with the Winchesters. Laughing over a beer. It would be the thing Castiel dreamed of if he could but that dream was miles away. It was unattainable. Pointless. Castiel would never have that relief, he was an angel burdened with the duty of saving the planet. He would die in this fight and that was okay, it was alright as long as Dean and Sam could go on living.
Castiel has accepted his mortality. His life for the life of the planet. It seemed a fair enough trade.
Human beings and incredibly resilient, they prove themselves time and time again but they can not withstand the force that is Raphael. It was impossible. I'm sorry Dean but it just was.
The hand rested on Deans wrist for maybe a heart beat or two before Dean is whipping around and slamming his fist in to the angels jaw. True to form Castiel does not stumble back but his jaw ticks to the side. The hit... it didn't hurt physically but it nearly broke the angels heart in two. Castiel slowly raised a hand to his jaw, touching the red spot on his skin. He curled his fingers there, closing his eyes as Dean growled at him. One last touch. One last memory...
The angel opened his eyes and looked back at Dean, they were equal in shine. He looked absolutely wrecked, destroyed, because this was happening. This was happening to them. The angel swallowed fighting back the emotion when Dean turned back to the wall. There was something he wanted to say, always something but... there was no point now. It was useless. Castiel....
[Dean would argue that Cas made his choice, but... well, he's done arguing. He's just... finished. Fighting. There where times when he'd considered it before, just giving up, but with Sam there, with Cas there to believe in him...
Maybe they'd been lying, or maybe he's just proven them wrong.
It doesn't matter.
He doesn't turn around at the sound of fluttering wings, because he knows what it means. Angels always suck at saying goodbye.
He keeps scrubbing the wall. The panic room is coated with them- Enochian and pagan symbols of entrapment, shit from the bible, shit from Balthazar, shit Cas himself taught Dean, coating everything like graffiti.
And Dean's going to remove every trace of it.
He doesn't feel it when hot warmth streaks down his cheeks, or when his knuckles crack and fingertips bleed, or when the rag starts to fray and tear.
By the time he's done, there isn't a spec of paint on the walls.
Apart from the scar on his arm, there's no proof Cas was ever there.
He wonders if he'd scrub that away, too, if he could.
He decides to sit down on the small cot there until he comes up with an answer.
(YAY!! Im not feeling all too well so I was planning on hiding in the apartment all day anyways. Plus its raining outside so i cant explore the grounds like i originally wanted. D8
LEMME GO LOOK FOR SOME ADORABLE MEMES OR SOMETHING HOLD UP SON. )
He watched Cas move food around his plate rather than looking at the angel's face, because it was easier. He wasn't good at being open, being emotional, he wasn't good at asking for things.
But he'd damn sure learn, because Cas was worth saving.
His fingers played absently with the outer seam of his jeans, where he could feel the metal of a lockpick.]
Yeah, you keep sayin' that. I wanna tell you a story, Cas.
[He muttered it darkly under his breath, then shifted back to cross his arms. His head dropped a little, chin almost to his chest, and he stared at the blanket.]
Once upon a time, there was this stupid little kid that always did everything right. He'd rescue cats, help people, hell, he was practically walking wheels on meals. This one time, there was a dog that'd been hit by a car on the side of the road. Little bastard made me pull over so he could bandage the leg. Drove thirty five goddamn miles to the nearest animal hospital.
The kid was a friggin' saint. Thought he could save the world.
[He blew out a low breath.]
When that kid figured out he had power, naturally he figured he use it to make the world a better place. He started going down a slippery slope, drinking demon blood, doing more and more questionable things in the name of the greater good. Because he was good. But what he was doing? Sure as fuck wasn't.
[He looked up at Cas seriously, eyes intense.]
And no matter how many goddamn people told him it, he was convinced was right. But let me tell you something about good intentions, Cas. They pave the road to hell. Sam lost control, got so wrapped up in doing the right thing that he started ignoring all of the shitty, terrible things he was doing in the process, and then he started the god damn apocalypse.
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Cas needed to fix this, he couldn't allow Raphael to gain the upper hand. He wouldn't.
It pained Castiel to see Dean trying so hard, trying to be loyal and show Castiel the errors of his ways but the problem was that there were no errors. This was the way that it had to be. And if Castiel died in the process then so be it. It was worth it if it meant Dean and Sam Winchester were still alive.
The understanding approach wasn't working. He'd have to go with a new tactic, as much as it pained him to do so. The angel was silent as he listened to the story before his eyes met those of Dean. The angel tensed his jaw before setting a cold stare back.]
If I remember correctly it was you who started the apocalypse by wielding to Alistair and torturing soul in hell.
[Cas swallowed, dropping his gaze.]
Sam was only a human, I'm an angel. I can control this. And you find my decision to be so wrong yet you offer no other solutions because there aren't any. Dean, I have no choice. If I don't do this then Raphael wins and the earth is destroyed. I have to save the planet we had fought so hard to protect. I refuse to let it burn to the ground because I was unwilling to make the sacrifice that was needed to survive.
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Every.
Single.
God damned.
Time.
But not this time. He can't let it happen this time. He has time, he's got this room holding Cas in place, he's got a grip on his temper, he's certain of the right path, he's got all of the ingredients to fix this.
So why isn't it working?
Why can't he keep this one? This one person? Please.
Cas's words cut like a knife, and he draws back a little, eyes flashing hurt and jaw tensing in fruitless defiance. Because it's the truth.
The muscles below his ears twitch once, twice.]
Yeah. It was. It was a mistake, and you saved me. Now I'm trying to return the favor. Don't let this be your Rack, Cas. Don't let Crowley be your Alistair.
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He was saving the world.
Castiel had to, he had to do this. There was no chance in fighting Raphael on his own. There was no way to go back. Crowley held the answer, and when Castiel took on the souls of Purgatory he would be strong enough to finally put an end to Raphaels reign of terror.
You have no idea how Castiel prayed that things would be different. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to lie and betray Dean and Sam. He just... had to.
The angel lifted his gaze back up to meet those greens of Deans and he tilted his head ever so slightly.]
I was under orders. I'm an angel, what I am doing is right and just. It.. must be done.
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Why does Cas get a choice?
Why can Dean never be selfish?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, and shoved off of the bed.]
Eat your food.
[He muttered absently pacing toward the door and then back again.
It's like he's being faced with two locked doors, here. The only two exits in the hallway, and they were both barred. Cas refused to opt out of this fucked up plan, and Dean refused to let the alternative happen. His own righteous moral compass refused to support this shit.
It was like the situation with Michael all over again. A voice in his head screaming say yes, say yes, say yes say yes-
He was broken, back when he decided to agree.
Maybe he's a little bit broken now.
He crossed the threshold and grabbed a bottled water from one of the twelve packs Bobby kept down there for emergencies. Twisted off the top and came back. Sloshed it over a cleaning rag, and began to scrub slowly at one of the spray-painted symbols near the door.]
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The angel wants so badly to relent, to succumb to Deans wishes and believe there is another way but he can't because there isn't.
Dean, Castiel loved you before he even understood what love was.
The food remained untouched but the angel watched Dean none the less. Watched him pace, think, look upset. It was ironic that this was just like the situation with Dean and Michael. And it took Sams unwilling faith in Dean that would make the man see light of day. On this case it wouldn't work. There was just no other option.
Dean began to wash away the wards from the wall and Castiel stood. He walked silently over to where Dean was and rested his hand over Deans wrist, stopping the motion in place. The angel swallowed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the bone jut of Deans back.Oh how he wished this were different. How he prayed. His voice was soft, in a barely there whisper and cracked at the end of his declaration as he squeezed Deans wrist with a shaky touch.]
I'm sorry.
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No.
He doesn't think that at all.
And he doesn't think Cas has to, either. Because they fought for choice. Cas doesn't have to do a god damn thing. He just is, because he's an angel, and no matter how different he thought Cas to be, angels apparently only operate in absolutes. They operate in finalities, fatalities, they operate in ends. And they operate in their Holy Divine Judgement being better, smarter, stronger than any stupid choice these little humans on this little planet could make. Because they're only human, right? They couldn't possibly fight for themselves.
They couldn't possibly win. Because they're not angels. Because Dean's not an angel. Because he's not good enough. Or strong enough.
Fuck that.
Cas's touch against his back makes him freeze, shoulders locking in place, hand stiffening beneath Cas's fingers.
Despite all of this, the situation, his stupid wretched fucking retarded heart gives a painful squeeze at the touch, reminding him of feelings he'd never had the time to analyze- feelings that were rendered completely irrelevant, completely null and fucking void thanks to this situation. Thanks to Cas's choice.
It hurts. It hurts that not only is he losing Cas, he's losing him at the height of the realization of just how much he loves the stupid fucking angel. Lemon juice on a paper cut.
One final fucking cosmic laugh at Dean Winchester as he gives up.
He stays still beneath Cas's fingers for maybe three seconds too long before he snaps into action, shoving at the other's chest and then punching him solidly in the fucking jaw.
Which, yeah, no, he knew it would hurt before he did it, and he's probably just broken a few fingers, but he doesn't flinch or acknowledge it. Instead, he drops his eyes immediately after, to somewhere just to the left of Cas's shoulder, jaw tensing and locking and unlocking as words swell in his throat.]
You.
[He shakes his head just an inch, and if his eyes are shining...
Whatever.
He's just so fucking.
He's just so fucking done.
With all of it. That's it. He's done. Fuck the world, fuck saving it again, fuck trusting-]
Don't. Just. Don't. You never-
[He can't even make the words come out, now. Can't explain how angry he is, how Cas doesn't get to apologize for something that he's perfectly capable of stopping. How angry he is that he's losing the angel, how he doesn't get to just use Dean's feelings for him like that, how he can't feel sympathy, or sadness, because he might just shatter into a thousand pieces the moment he lets himself crack.
How he's not going to beg, but he would if he thought it would matter. But it wouldn't. Because he doesn't.
He scrubs at the wall.]
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Castiel has accepted his mortality. His life for the life of the planet. It seemed a fair enough trade.
Human beings and incredibly resilient, they prove themselves time and time again but they can not withstand the force that is Raphael. It was impossible. I'm sorry Dean but it just was.
The hand rested on Deans wrist for maybe a heart beat or two before Dean is whipping around and slamming his fist in to the angels jaw. True to form Castiel does not stumble back but his jaw ticks to the side. The hit... it didn't hurt physically but it nearly broke the angels heart in two. Castiel slowly raised a hand to his jaw, touching the red spot on his skin. He curled his fingers there, closing his eyes as Dean growled at him. One last touch. One last memory...
The angel opened his eyes and looked back at Dean, they were equal in shine. He looked absolutely wrecked, destroyed, because this was happening. This was happening to them. The angel swallowed fighting back the emotion when Dean turned back to the wall. There was something he wanted to say, always something but... there was no point now. It was useless. Castiel....
..........................
With a flutter of wings Castiel disappeared.]
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Maybe they'd been lying, or maybe he's just proven them wrong.
It doesn't matter.
He doesn't turn around at the sound of fluttering wings, because he knows what it means. Angels always suck at saying goodbye.
He keeps scrubbing the wall. The panic room is coated with them- Enochian and pagan symbols of entrapment, shit from the bible, shit from Balthazar, shit Cas himself taught Dean, coating everything like graffiti.
And Dean's going to remove every trace of it.
He doesn't feel it when hot warmth streaks down his cheeks, or when his knuckles crack and fingertips bleed, or when the rag starts to fray and tear.
By the time he's done, there isn't a spec of paint on the walls.
Apart from the scar on his arm, there's no proof Cas was ever there.
He wonders if he'd scrub that away, too, if he could.
He decides to sit down on the small cot there until he comes up with an answer.
He ends up sitting there a long, long time.
But he doesn't come up with an answer.]
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ALRIGHT. I have the day off from work today so im gonna be around. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO NEXT? If youre up for it.]
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Oh god, something optimistic and romantic and wonderful please. Gotta balance out these tragic feels, sobbb.]
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LEMME GO LOOK FOR SOME ADORABLE MEMES OR SOMETHING HOLD UP SON. )
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