Fanfiction "What's There To Miss?"
Title: What's There To Miss?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Miss Ink / Literapture (FF.net) / Wings (AO3)
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): light Dean/Castiel
Genres/Warnings: Purgatory fic | angst | [amnesia!fic]
Word Count: 1,138
Summary: The longer they're in this other world, the more he forgets that other world.
There was a lot Dean found he missed in Purgatory, trapped in the land between things. Between Heaven, Hell, and Earth, between reality and improbability, between life and death even. Nothing was concrete or in any sense reliable. Dean had spent his whole life teaching himself to expect the unexpected, to be prepared for whatever crazy shit the future would bring, but none of that applied here. No one event was connected to the next, or at least not in any way that Dean could understand. Growing light didn't have to mean daybreak was drawing near. A rustle in the trees wasn't always telling of some monster creeping closer. Sometimes even when a red-eyed shadow leaped from the darkness, claws and teeth aiming for Dean's throat, he'd blink and it was gone. He'd almost believe they were hallucinations if it weren't for the bruising one such time left him with. Purple and green memoirs decorating his collar from what he thought must have been a werewolf granted its kinds' rawest of forms here in Purgatory.
Throughout all of it Dean kept himself going with memories of Earth and what he knew to be real. He and Castiel pushed on, holding each other up. Or holding each other back, depending on how you saw it. It was painful, each day opening his eyes to the same endless forest and calling up images of the things he missed most, but he clung to the pain as a sharp reminder of what was real and what he needed to get back to. Even so, it slowed him some days when it all just became too heavy to bear and the thought of walking further when they were getting nowhere made him want to burrow into the marsh and mildew and stay there until it all went away.
Every time Castiel was there to pull him to his feet. He'd hold his shoulder, not letting go or looking away until Dean met his gaze. Then he'd ask Dean to tell him a story. The first time this happened, Dean looked at him bewildered. Don't think this is really the time for stories, Cas. Then, what did you want to hear?
Anything, Castiel replied.
Dean told him about the first time he drove the Impala, how proud he'd been to finally be behind the wheel of his dad's beloved car. He told him what he remembered about the last Christmas he'd had when Mary was still alive, little Sammy had been so small and wide-eyed at all the brightly coloured wrapping paper strewn everywhere. He talked about weekends spent at Bobby's when he and Sammy were still too young to go with John on hunts. Instead they spent their time getting in Bobby's way so much that he threatened to make them sleep in a junker if they didn't get out from under his feet and go play somewhere else. He talked about Sam a lot, eyes glazing over with memories, never noticing how Castiel watched him at these moments with a softness in his gaze.
The more stories he told, the more he woke up each morning (Evening? Nighttime?) and thought less and less about the real world. He found he had fewer memories to revisit, fewer to distract him from the nightmare they lived. And they only faded with time, until there was nothing but Castiel and the ever-present, never constant forest. He would try to worry about those blank spaces but it was hard to focus and he found his mind wandering more and more until there was nothing for Dean to do but trudge on, keep a look-out, and keep living.
I don't remember anything, he said one day to Castiel. Nothing but you.
Castiel looked at him with sad eyes. I know, he said.
You're all there is, Dean went on, looking down to study Castiel's sleeve. A bit of mud had soaked the hem from where they've been resting. You've always been there for me.
There was no reply and Dean looked up to see that Castiel was shaking his head almost imperceptibly. No. No, I haven't, Dean. I left and I hurt you, and I can never fix it but I'm trying now. But if you knew I think you'd only hate me more.
Dean frowned, confused. Dude, I'm not going to hate you. Why would I-
I've been stealing your memories, Dean. Sealing them inside myself until we can escape. You were causing yourself pain. Everyday, and I couldn't watch that. This place has the capability to test even an angel's patience; I couldn't watch you slowly drive yourself insane.
Dean's mind spun with this new information but just as quickly he felt it begin to slip away again, staying only as long as water stays in cupped hands. What are you talking about, taking my memories? You're all there is here, you and this forest. What's there to miss?
Castiel was shaking his head again, harder now, and frowning just slightly like he did when he would try to hide his pain from Dean when an attack caught them off guard. No Dean, there is so much more, you've done so much more, saved so many people. And I'm sorry, I never meant to do this to you. But it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You were never supposed to remember me, least of all over your brother.
Somewhere deep in Dean's chest his heart gave a sudden lurch but he couldn't place what had caused it. Castiel continued talking.
I meant to erase myself completely from your mind, then you would have nothing to tie you to your world until I could find a way to save you and return your memories. But I'm more human than I ever meant to become and I found I can't have you forget me, not forever. So Dean, tell me a story.
There was only one story left for Dean to tell and he didn't question that it was the one Castiel wanted to hear. I ever tell you about the time I met an angel? he said, looking straight at Castiel who didn't say anything but shook his head one more time.
He was late. Kept me waiting in that barn for half the night it felt like. I stuck a knife in his chest when he did show up. I didn't trust him then but he saved me, and he's been saving me everyday since.
Castiel didn't say anything for a moment when Dean finished but he looked away. Thank you, he said, then turned back to Dean, raising a hand to his cheek and leaned forward to touch a brief kiss to his lips. There was a wave of cold and then Dean was alone, but then what else was there?
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Miss Ink / Literapture (FF.net) / Wings (AO3)
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): light Dean/Castiel
Genres/Warnings: Purgatory fic | angst | [amnesia!fic]
Word Count: 1,138
Summary: The longer they're in this other world, the more he forgets that other world.
There was a lot Dean found he missed in Purgatory, trapped in the land between things. Between Heaven, Hell, and Earth, between reality and improbability, between life and death even. Nothing was concrete or in any sense reliable. Dean had spent his whole life teaching himself to expect the unexpected, to be prepared for whatever crazy shit the future would bring, but none of that applied here. No one event was connected to the next, or at least not in any way that Dean could understand. Growing light didn't have to mean daybreak was drawing near. A rustle in the trees wasn't always telling of some monster creeping closer. Sometimes even when a red-eyed shadow leaped from the darkness, claws and teeth aiming for Dean's throat, he'd blink and it was gone. He'd almost believe they were hallucinations if it weren't for the bruising one such time left him with. Purple and green memoirs decorating his collar from what he thought must have been a werewolf granted its kinds' rawest of forms here in Purgatory.
Throughout all of it Dean kept himself going with memories of Earth and what he knew to be real. He and Castiel pushed on, holding each other up. Or holding each other back, depending on how you saw it. It was painful, each day opening his eyes to the same endless forest and calling up images of the things he missed most, but he clung to the pain as a sharp reminder of what was real and what he needed to get back to. Even so, it slowed him some days when it all just became too heavy to bear and the thought of walking further when they were getting nowhere made him want to burrow into the marsh and mildew and stay there until it all went away.
Every time Castiel was there to pull him to his feet. He'd hold his shoulder, not letting go or looking away until Dean met his gaze. Then he'd ask Dean to tell him a story. The first time this happened, Dean looked at him bewildered. Don't think this is really the time for stories, Cas. Then, what did you want to hear?
Anything, Castiel replied.
Dean told him about the first time he drove the Impala, how proud he'd been to finally be behind the wheel of his dad's beloved car. He told him what he remembered about the last Christmas he'd had when Mary was still alive, little Sammy had been so small and wide-eyed at all the brightly coloured wrapping paper strewn everywhere. He talked about weekends spent at Bobby's when he and Sammy were still too young to go with John on hunts. Instead they spent their time getting in Bobby's way so much that he threatened to make them sleep in a junker if they didn't get out from under his feet and go play somewhere else. He talked about Sam a lot, eyes glazing over with memories, never noticing how Castiel watched him at these moments with a softness in his gaze.
The more stories he told, the more he woke up each morning (Evening? Nighttime?) and thought less and less about the real world. He found he had fewer memories to revisit, fewer to distract him from the nightmare they lived. And they only faded with time, until there was nothing but Castiel and the ever-present, never constant forest. He would try to worry about those blank spaces but it was hard to focus and he found his mind wandering more and more until there was nothing for Dean to do but trudge on, keep a look-out, and keep living.
I don't remember anything, he said one day to Castiel. Nothing but you.
Castiel looked at him with sad eyes. I know, he said.
You're all there is, Dean went on, looking down to study Castiel's sleeve. A bit of mud had soaked the hem from where they've been resting. You've always been there for me.
There was no reply and Dean looked up to see that Castiel was shaking his head almost imperceptibly. No. No, I haven't, Dean. I left and I hurt you, and I can never fix it but I'm trying now. But if you knew I think you'd only hate me more.
Dean frowned, confused. Dude, I'm not going to hate you. Why would I-
I've been stealing your memories, Dean. Sealing them inside myself until we can escape. You were causing yourself pain. Everyday, and I couldn't watch that. This place has the capability to test even an angel's patience; I couldn't watch you slowly drive yourself insane.
Dean's mind spun with this new information but just as quickly he felt it begin to slip away again, staying only as long as water stays in cupped hands. What are you talking about, taking my memories? You're all there is here, you and this forest. What's there to miss?
Castiel was shaking his head again, harder now, and frowning just slightly like he did when he would try to hide his pain from Dean when an attack caught them off guard. No Dean, there is so much more, you've done so much more, saved so many people. And I'm sorry, I never meant to do this to you. But it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You were never supposed to remember me, least of all over your brother.
Somewhere deep in Dean's chest his heart gave a sudden lurch but he couldn't place what had caused it. Castiel continued talking.
I meant to erase myself completely from your mind, then you would have nothing to tie you to your world until I could find a way to save you and return your memories. But I'm more human than I ever meant to become and I found I can't have you forget me, not forever. So Dean, tell me a story.
There was only one story left for Dean to tell and he didn't question that it was the one Castiel wanted to hear. I ever tell you about the time I met an angel? he said, looking straight at Castiel who didn't say anything but shook his head one more time.
He was late. Kept me waiting in that barn for half the night it felt like. I stuck a knife in his chest when he did show up. I didn't trust him then but he saved me, and he's been saving me everyday since.
Castiel didn't say anything for a moment when Dean finished but he looked away. Thank you, he said, then turned back to Dean, raising a hand to his cheek and leaned forward to touch a brief kiss to his lips. There was a wave of cold and then Dean was alone, but then what else was there?