[fic post] Burden of the Righteous Man
Title: Burden of the Righteous Man
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas
Warnings: spoilers for 5x14
Word Count: 1,027
Summary: Cas looks inside him and tells him what he sees.
Author Notes: I was trying to make myself feel better after watching the new episode by writing this. I... I didn't do a very good job. ;_____;
Burden of the Righteous Man
Dean loses track of how long he stands outside, looking up at the sky and hearing nothing. He isn't surprised, he hadn't expected anything. But he feels hollowed out and lost and there really isn't anything else he can think of to try, so he prays and prays and prays, until his face is numb from the cold and he slowly makes his way back to the house.
He walks in and can't hear Sam screaming. Alarm starts to rise until Castiel appears at the top of the stairs and assures him that Sam is unconscious but okay. Well, as okay as you can be when you're being forced to endure withdrawal from demon blood. He lets out a sigh, because that's all that will come out of him.
Cas looks uncomfortable and guilty as he stares at him, like he's privy to something he knows Dean will not appreciate him being privy to. But Dean's too tired to be angry -- too tired to be anything -- so he holds out his arms in defeat and asks quietly, "What?"
The angel shifts awkwardly before walking towards him. He's apparently taken some of those 'personal space' talks to heart, because he leaves a wide berth between them when he stops, even if Dean can still feel him like he's three inches away.
"I... I heard you praying," Cas says eventually.
"And?" Dean asks impatiently.
"I am curious who you were hoping would hear you."
"It doesn't really matter--"
"Dean," Cas interrupts sternly, "It does matter."
"No, it doesn't, because no one up there is listening anyway, Cas. Unless I'm asking for Michael to come on down and wear me like a cheap suit, none of your asshole friends are going to care," Dean snaps. Cas frowns, and Dean realizes he's insulting Cas's family again, but he won't apologize.
"If you believed that, you wouldn't have tried it," the angel counters, but Dean scoffs.
"Maybe I'm just outta options, Cas. Maybe I am sick of pretending like I'm not dead inside--" Dean begins, voice rising as he speaks, but that's as far as he gets before Cas takes two strides into his space and grips him by the arm, hand laid where he once left his mark pulling Dean's soul out of Hell. Dean shudders and feels like he's being invaded, every inch of him surging with an energy he's never felt before. His eyes fall shut and his knees have a hard time keeping him up, but when Cas starts to speak he nearly collapses as the energy pulses with each word.
"You are not dead inside, Dean. You are broken and you are not as invincible as you would have everyone believe, but you are alive. I can see into you, all of you, and your soul is as resilient and determined as it's always been. That you are fighting so hard, against Heaven and Hell and destiny, is proof of that."
"Then why... why was I unaffected? And why... didn't Famine see it?" Dean asks through heavy breathing. He's fallen against the door behind him, somehow still managing to stand.
"What you want, what you truly want, must not be something Famine can make you act out for."
"What... do I want?"
Dean finally manages to open his eyes, and the look Cas has fixed him with is sad and defeated as he pulls his hand away, taking the energy with it. Dean suddenly feels cold and empty again, and his legs finally give out as he slides down against the door.
"Cas," Dean pleads, struggling to get his breath back, "What do I want?"
"... Nothing." Castiel stares down at him with an expression that is equal parts helpless and worried. Dean continues to meet his gaze until his breathing is back to normal and he can push himself back onto his feet. They're still a little shaky, a persistent buzzing lingering throughout his entire body, but he manages well enough.
"And what does that mean?" Dean asks quietly. Because that doesn't make any sense.
He wants a lot of stuff. He wants the Apocalypse to be over. He wants the Devil dead. He wants Sam to be okay and not the Anti Christ that everyone believe he is, including himself. He wants Michael and his groupies to fuck off and stop chasing after his skin. And sometimes, when he can't stop himself, he wants Cas. He's not sure what he wants from him or what that means, but he can feel it, and it leaves him feeling guilty and dirty. He wants so much, all the time, that it leaves him angry and sad and hopeless until he's completely burnt out.
Castiel tilts his head, and Dean is reminded of their first encounter, when he was told Heaven had a job for him, even if he felt -- knew -- that he didn't deserve to be saved.
"You want nothing for yourself, Dean. Not strong enough for Famine to tap, not strong enough for me to see."
"Cas, I'm not some kind of monk," Dean protests, "I want. I want a lot."
"Not really," Cas replies quietly, and Dean can see the same guilt on his face as when he'd walked through the door. He knows something from pushing his grace inside him, searching him and seeing him, that he fears Dean doesn't want him to. And from the way Cas is averting his eyes now, Dean has a good idea what that something is.
"Cas, I--" he starts, because if there was any way Cas was supposed to find out, this shouldn't have been it. But Cas is stepping back, giving Dean back his space. The look of disappointment mixed with resignation on his face hurts more than Famine digging through him, telling him he's dead, lost, nothing.
"Whatever you want, it's not by very much."
Dean stares at him, like he's mumbling in Latin and not making any sense.
"It's not enough, Dean," the angel tells him solemnly, shaking his head. Dean doesn't understand what he's being told until Cas is gone and Sam has started screaming again.
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Pairings or Characters: Dean/Cas
Warnings: spoilers for 5x14
Word Count: 1,027
Summary: Cas looks inside him and tells him what he sees.
Author Notes: I was trying to make myself feel better after watching the new episode by writing this. I... I didn't do a very good job. ;_____;
Burden of the Righteous Man
Dean loses track of how long he stands outside, looking up at the sky and hearing nothing. He isn't surprised, he hadn't expected anything. But he feels hollowed out and lost and there really isn't anything else he can think of to try, so he prays and prays and prays, until his face is numb from the cold and he slowly makes his way back to the house.
He walks in and can't hear Sam screaming. Alarm starts to rise until Castiel appears at the top of the stairs and assures him that Sam is unconscious but okay. Well, as okay as you can be when you're being forced to endure withdrawal from demon blood. He lets out a sigh, because that's all that will come out of him.
Cas looks uncomfortable and guilty as he stares at him, like he's privy to something he knows Dean will not appreciate him being privy to. But Dean's too tired to be angry -- too tired to be anything -- so he holds out his arms in defeat and asks quietly, "What?"
The angel shifts awkwardly before walking towards him. He's apparently taken some of those 'personal space' talks to heart, because he leaves a wide berth between them when he stops, even if Dean can still feel him like he's three inches away.
"I... I heard you praying," Cas says eventually.
"And?" Dean asks impatiently.
"I am curious who you were hoping would hear you."
"It doesn't really matter--"
"Dean," Cas interrupts sternly, "It does matter."
"No, it doesn't, because no one up there is listening anyway, Cas. Unless I'm asking for Michael to come on down and wear me like a cheap suit, none of your asshole friends are going to care," Dean snaps. Cas frowns, and Dean realizes he's insulting Cas's family again, but he won't apologize.
"If you believed that, you wouldn't have tried it," the angel counters, but Dean scoffs.
"Maybe I'm just outta options, Cas. Maybe I am sick of pretending like I'm not dead inside--" Dean begins, voice rising as he speaks, but that's as far as he gets before Cas takes two strides into his space and grips him by the arm, hand laid where he once left his mark pulling Dean's soul out of Hell. Dean shudders and feels like he's being invaded, every inch of him surging with an energy he's never felt before. His eyes fall shut and his knees have a hard time keeping him up, but when Cas starts to speak he nearly collapses as the energy pulses with each word.
"You are not dead inside, Dean. You are broken and you are not as invincible as you would have everyone believe, but you are alive. I can see into you, all of you, and your soul is as resilient and determined as it's always been. That you are fighting so hard, against Heaven and Hell and destiny, is proof of that."
"Then why... why was I unaffected? And why... didn't Famine see it?" Dean asks through heavy breathing. He's fallen against the door behind him, somehow still managing to stand.
"What you want, what you truly want, must not be something Famine can make you act out for."
"What... do I want?"
Dean finally manages to open his eyes, and the look Cas has fixed him with is sad and defeated as he pulls his hand away, taking the energy with it. Dean suddenly feels cold and empty again, and his legs finally give out as he slides down against the door.
"Cas," Dean pleads, struggling to get his breath back, "What do I want?"
"... Nothing." Castiel stares down at him with an expression that is equal parts helpless and worried. Dean continues to meet his gaze until his breathing is back to normal and he can push himself back onto his feet. They're still a little shaky, a persistent buzzing lingering throughout his entire body, but he manages well enough.
"And what does that mean?" Dean asks quietly. Because that doesn't make any sense.
He wants a lot of stuff. He wants the Apocalypse to be over. He wants the Devil dead. He wants Sam to be okay and not the Anti Christ that everyone believe he is, including himself. He wants Michael and his groupies to fuck off and stop chasing after his skin. And sometimes, when he can't stop himself, he wants Cas. He's not sure what he wants from him or what that means, but he can feel it, and it leaves him feeling guilty and dirty. He wants so much, all the time, that it leaves him angry and sad and hopeless until he's completely burnt out.
Castiel tilts his head, and Dean is reminded of their first encounter, when he was told Heaven had a job for him, even if he felt -- knew -- that he didn't deserve to be saved.
"You want nothing for yourself, Dean. Not strong enough for Famine to tap, not strong enough for me to see."
"Cas, I'm not some kind of monk," Dean protests, "I want. I want a lot."
"Not really," Cas replies quietly, and Dean can see the same guilt on his face as when he'd walked through the door. He knows something from pushing his grace inside him, searching him and seeing him, that he fears Dean doesn't want him to. And from the way Cas is averting his eyes now, Dean has a good idea what that something is.
"Cas, I--" he starts, because if there was any way Cas was supposed to find out, this shouldn't have been it. But Cas is stepping back, giving Dean back his space. The look of disappointment mixed with resignation on his face hurts more than Famine digging through him, telling him he's dead, lost, nothing.
"Whatever you want, it's not by very much."
Dean stares at him, like he's mumbling in Latin and not making any sense.
"It's not enough, Dean," the angel tells him solemnly, shaking his head. Dean doesn't understand what he's being told until Cas is gone and Sam has started screaming again.