Doobalydoop he's spending an awful lot of time in 2014hunting_tripJanuary 18 2012, 06:57:30 UTC
[It's quiet, for once. No gunshots, no mission, no screaming or orders or angels, no alcohol or weed. Just... the sky. However many years in the future, after so much death and chaos and madness, and the sky looked the same. Earth tore itself apart, but the planet kept on spinning around the sun, and the stars didn't care. The stars never changed. Long after everyone else was wiped out, they'd still shine down peacefully on this exact field, where the two of them are flopped. It's... a sad but reassuring thought.
Him and Sam would drive out into the country in between cases, lay on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and just... looking at them. Not even speaking. Just looking, for hours at a time. He doesn't have Sam anymore, but he's got Cas. It's different, but almost equally reassuring. It's... nice.]
Come for the apocalypse, stay for the junkie angel? C8heavenonhighJanuary 18 2012, 20:25:25 UTC
[It had been Dean's idea to come out here tonight, out into the middle of nowhere to stare up into the sky and appreciate one of the few beautiful things there is left to be enjoyed. Normally he'd take great care to be extra intoxicated, as if that would help to further separate right here from the rest of this fucked up world, but he'd opted to go without for tonight, reasoning that he should probably be on his guard just in case. The two of them laying unprotected in a field are like a value meal waiting to happen.
That's not the only reason, though; he's willing to concede that part of him had just wanted to enjoy Dean's company, actually enjoy it for just what it is. And so here he is, sober (imagine that) and stretched out on his back with his arms behind his head just looking up. He has to admit, it is kind of impressive.]
You are exactly correct, my good sir.hunting_tripJanuary 19 2012, 05:38:53 UTC
You know...
[He started, conversationally, as though they'd been talking this whole time, rather than completely silent for the last hour and a half. He trailed off for a second, shifting his arms beneath his head. Started to turn to look at Cas, but changed his mind.]
People used to believe when you died, you became a star. Not in the Cher way, in the constellation way.
[He tilted his head to one side, thinking it over. That'd be a nice heaven, if he got to pick. Then again...]
He's just so lovable <3 heavenonhighJanuary 19 2012, 23:55:21 UTC
[He's so relaxed that he doesn't even startle at Dean's voice breaking the silence that'd stretched over them for the last hour or so.]
Mm? I've never heard that before.
[He frowns and squints up into the dark.]
It sounds... Cold.
[Heaven was bright and warm; space is cold, distant and dark and so far away. It's certainly beautiful to look at, but its frigid and impartial nature aren't particularly appealing to Cas beyond that.]
Like a stoned kitten. hunting_tripJanuary 20 2012, 05:43:50 UTC
[He furrows his brow as he considers it. He hadn't really thought about that. Yeah, it probably would be cold. And lonely, a million miles from anyone. Then again, from what he'd heard, heaven was just as isolated. Couldn't anybody get the afterlife right? Damn.]
I guess so.
[His voice is a little defeated, a little tired, when he nods to agree. A lonely heaven is no heaven at all.]
hehehehe yes! Guh sorry for slow response, I wasn't home most of yesterday ffheavenonhighJanuary 21 2012, 14:21:35 UTC
If I got to pick? I dunno...
[He pauses. He hasn't really given it much thought.]
I don't really know what my options are.
[He doesn't know if it's even possible for him to go back to Heaven; he's also unsure if he'd want to, so that seems unlikely. And to his knowledge he doesn't have a soul, not a human soul anyway, and so he's at something of a loss as to what part of him will be ushered into the afterlife. In all likelihood he'll just... Stop being. It's not something he likes to think about.]
What about you? Any idea what you want your eternal resting place to be?
No worries at all! It happens, man. hunting_tripJanuary 21 2012, 23:06:35 UTC
[He can understand the sentiment, considering how complicated and fucked up Castiel's situation is. He can't imagine a universe where Cas doesn't get to go to heaven. It just... isn't fair. After everything he's given, everything he's sacrificed...
Then again, it isn't about fair. It's about the fact that the people in charge are complete and total dicks. Bureaucracy in heaven. Disgusting.
He shook his head.]
I... don't know. I think I'd just... want things to go back to the way they were. Some place... peaceful. Back before everything, back when Sam...
[He trailed off. Fuck this conversation. It hurts.]
Fuck it. I'd got to a beach resort. Mexico. Toes in the sand, half-naked chicks, and an assload of margaritas in those glasses with the little umbrellas.
{He listens in silence as Dean works out the details of where he'd like to go. It starts off as quite possibly the most open Dean's ever been with him; the emotion there is almost too raw, and it makes Cas's eyebrows knit together as he stares up into the stars...
And then it all takes a turn for the ridiculous, and Cas is almost grateful- one of the things he's been sorely lacking since becoming more or less human is instruction the ability to deal with emotions through talking. He'd learned from Dean and he'd learned from Bobby, and it'd been clear that neither of them had had any instruction in that department either.
His lips twitch and he snorts quietly at the idea of a much more decadent place to go.]
That sounds perfect, actually. Umbrellas and all.
[Drinking booze out of a coconut. Isn't that what Dean had suggested his Father was doing while he'd been searching for him? It doesn't seem so far-fetched now; if he was God, that's probably where he'd be.]
[Dean doesn't really do open, and when he does, it's only because someone's about to die, someone almost died, or he's about to die. None of those categories currently apply, hence he's back to beaches in mexico.
He shifts a little, suddenly uncomfortable, like he pissed off the gods of laying in a field watching the stars with his aloof dishonesty. There was no written rule that things had to get all touchy-feely and emotional during times like these. So. Fuck off.
[You should come back with me. If only it were so easy, if only he could… He sighs and flashes Dean a sad smile.]
Back to '09? I don't think that's in the cards for me.
[He frowns up at the stars, as if it's their fault.]
I can't leave… You. This you. I won't leave him here alone.
[It was the reason he'd stayed behind in the first place. He'd been given the option to leave, to go back to Heaven and after accepting his due punishment, be restored and forgiven. He was told it was God's will. He'd declined, of course, because he couldn't stomach the thought of leaving Dean alone to fix all of this.
To clean up his mess. No matter what he'd said to the Winchesters out of anger, he'd let Sam out of the panic room: this is as much his fault as anyone else's.]
[Dean furrowed his brow, rolled up onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow indignantly. He was just going to pointedly ignore the little voice in his head that said this was straight out of a romance flick.]
You realize he's- I'm... a total douche, right?
[He looked serious, especially as he gained steam. The idea had been thrown out absently, casually, but now, the more he thought about it...]
I mean, whoever that guy is, he's not me. He full-on executed that guy- tossed him a beer and shot him in the head. That's- you can't--
[He moves his hands to rest across his stomach and turns his head to face Dean, expression serious.]
You can't know what he's been through.
[He doesn't mean it as an insult and he hopes Dean understands that; he'd beg and plead and pray to a God that he knows for a fact isn't listening, do anything if he thought it'd make a difference, if it'd mean that this Dean never finds out.]
Yeager would never have wanted to become one of those things, and he made sure we all knew it, too. [He sighs.] I'm not saying it was right, but nothing about any of this is right. There's no cure, no rescue [no hope] and he would have turned, probably killed his friends, and then been taken out anyway.
[A pause.]
It was the kindest thing to do.
[Of this he's absolutely certain. It's what he'd want, though he supposes he'll never find out-- he's immune to the virus by virtue of this body being consecrated, still a holy vessel despite the fact that there's little holiness left in him at all. He regards it as a curse, just another punishment for his
( ... )
You defending him because it's true, or because it's me?
[He feels it's a valid question, even if he makes himself wince when he asks it. Cas has always been loyal to him, so amazingly brilliantly loyal, he can't help but wonder about whether it's fact or bias. They're all wonderful excuses, but they still sound like just that- excuses.
Excuses nobody deserves, least of all him. Granted, Yeager probably would have taken a bullet by the end of the day, but there was still time for words, Jesus Christ, for a last meal, a last beer, a last anything.]
Cas...
[He trails off, shaking his head and turning his eyes to the sky.]
He's gonna get you killed. Hell, he's gonna get himself killed. He's... he's fucking gone, and you're following him straight off the cliff like those god damn extinct birds.
[He pauses to consider the question. It is valid.]
Uh.. A bit of both, probably.
[He figures honesty is the best policy here, Dean would probably see right through it if he said otherwise anyway.
And he knows it's true, that following Dean will probably lead him, as this Dean's so eloquently put it, off the cliff like one of those god damn birds. He knows it, but just the same he knows his place is here. Glancing over at Dean, he studies his friend's profile. He'd made his peace with losing this Dean a long time ago but still there's a selfish desire to go back to '09 with him, even though he's certain it isn't even a possibility. He'd wasted so much time back then...
He sighs. There's nothing he can do about it now, and he'd meant what he said: he won't leave this timeline's Dean here alone. He just... Won't.]
I trust him-- You. Whatever. You know what I mean.
[He settles back against the grass, muttering unhappily, and doesn't look back over as he says it. It's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit that he can't save him. Even if he goes back, puts the timeline right, he's got a feeling this universe is still going to exist, it's still going to play out, and it's still going to suck.
Which is bullshit.
And part of him wants to stay. At least if he's here, he can help. He can help Cas, and Chuck, and he can help keep himself from being a giant fucking asshole, and even if he can't stop the apocalypse, he can help them survive and suffer less. Except he can't. He's got to go back, he's got to save his world from ever becoming this in the first place, he's got to save Sam.
In short, there isn't a goddamn thing he can do about it, which just pisses him off to absolutely no end. He shoves up out of the grass, shoulders tight, and starts walking.]
[Cas huffs out a frustrated sigh through his nose as Dean pushes himself up, body tense and rigid. It's dangerous enough out here at night, and it's even more dangerous out here at night alone... He should probably go after him, watch his back. It's not that he thinks Dean incapable of taking care of himself, but he knows all too well how reckless and stupid it is to wander around alone no matter who you are. Blinking up into the sky as he pulls himself to his feet, he frowns at the stars as if it's their fault everything's gone to hell...
Maybe it is, who even knows anymore?
Stretching with a soft pop of his back, he casts a sad glance at the spaces where the grass is crushed and bent, the only evidence of what had actually been a pretty relaxing evening. He frowns and leans down to grab his handgun from where he'd dropped it onto the ground when they'd arrived before turning to follow Dean in silence- he suspects Dean's gonna be pissed that he won't be able to brood in peace, but really, Cas can live with that.]
Him and Sam would drive out into the country in between cases, lay on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and just... looking at them. Not even speaking. Just looking, for hours at a time. He doesn't have Sam anymore, but he's got Cas. It's different, but almost equally reassuring. It's... nice.]
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That's not the only reason, though; he's willing to concede that part of him had just wanted to enjoy Dean's company, actually enjoy it for just what it is. And so here he is, sober (imagine that) and stretched out on his back with his arms behind his head just looking up. He has to admit, it is kind of impressive.]
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[He started, conversationally, as though they'd been talking this whole time, rather than completely silent for the last hour and a half. He trailed off for a second, shifting his arms beneath his head. Started to turn to look at Cas, but changed his mind.]
People used to believe when you died, you became a star. Not in the Cher way, in the constellation way.
[He tilted his head to one side, thinking it over. That'd be a nice heaven, if he got to pick. Then again...]
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Mm? I've never heard that before.
[He frowns and squints up into the dark.]
It sounds... Cold.
[Heaven was bright and warm; space is cold, distant and dark and so far away. It's certainly beautiful to look at, but its frigid and impartial nature aren't particularly appealing to Cas beyond that.]
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I guess so.
[His voice is a little defeated, a little tired, when he nods to agree. A lonely heaven is no heaven at all.]
If you got to pick...?
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[He pauses. He hasn't really given it much thought.]
I don't really know what my options are.
[He doesn't know if it's even possible for him to go back to Heaven; he's also unsure if he'd want to, so that seems unlikely. And to his knowledge he doesn't have a soul, not a human soul anyway, and so he's at something of a loss as to what part of him will be ushered into the afterlife. In all likelihood he'll just... Stop being. It's not something he likes to think about.]
What about you? Any idea what you want your eternal resting place to be?
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Then again, it isn't about fair. It's about the fact that the people in charge are complete and total dicks. Bureaucracy in heaven. Disgusting.
He shook his head.]
I... don't know. I think I'd just... want things to go back to the way they were. Some place... peaceful. Back before everything, back when Sam...
[He trailed off. Fuck this conversation. It hurts.]
Fuck it. I'd got to a beach resort. Mexico. Toes in the sand, half-naked chicks, and an assload of margaritas in those glasses with the little umbrellas.
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And then it all takes a turn for the ridiculous, and Cas is almost grateful- one of the things he's been sorely lacking since becoming more or less human is instruction the ability to deal with emotions through talking. He'd learned from Dean and he'd learned from Bobby, and it'd been clear that neither of them had had any instruction in that department either.
His lips twitch and he snorts quietly at the idea of a much more decadent place to go.]
That sounds perfect, actually. Umbrellas and all.
[Drinking booze out of a coconut. Isn't that what Dean had suggested his Father was doing while he'd been searching for him? It doesn't seem so far-fetched now; if he was God, that's probably where he'd be.]
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He shifts a little, suddenly uncomfortable, like he pissed off the gods of laying in a field watching the stars with his aloof dishonesty. There was no written rule that things had to get all touchy-feely and emotional during times like these. So. Fuck off.
He pauses.]
You should come back with me.
[And cue silence.]
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Back to '09? I don't think that's in the cards for me.
[He frowns up at the stars, as if it's their fault.]
I can't leave… You. This you. I won't leave him here alone.
[It was the reason he'd stayed behind in the first place. He'd been given the option to leave, to go back to Heaven and after accepting his due punishment, be restored and forgiven. He was told it was God's will. He'd declined, of course, because he couldn't stomach the thought of leaving Dean alone to fix all of this.
To clean up his mess. No matter what he'd said to the Winchesters out of anger, he'd let Sam out of the panic room: this is as much his fault as anyone else's.]
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You realize he's- I'm... a total douche, right?
[He looked serious, especially as he gained steam. The idea had been thrown out absently, casually, but now, the more he thought about it...]
I mean, whoever that guy is, he's not me. He full-on executed that guy- tossed him a beer and shot him in the head. That's- you can't--
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You can't know what he's been through.
[He doesn't mean it as an insult and he hopes Dean understands that; he'd beg and plead and pray to a God that he knows for a fact isn't listening, do anything if he thought it'd make a difference, if it'd mean that this Dean never finds out.]
Yeager would never have wanted to become one of those things, and he made sure we all knew it, too. [He sighs.] I'm not saying it was right, but nothing about any of this is right. There's no cure, no rescue [no hope] and he would have turned, probably killed his friends, and then been taken out anyway.
[A pause.]
It was the kindest thing to do.
[Of this he's absolutely certain. It's what he'd want, though he supposes he'll never find out-- he's immune to the virus by virtue of this body being consecrated, still a holy vessel despite the fact that there's little holiness left in him at all. He regards it as a curse, just another punishment for his ( ... )
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[He feels it's a valid question, even if he makes himself wince when he asks it. Cas has always been loyal to him, so amazingly brilliantly loyal, he can't help but wonder about whether it's fact or bias. They're all wonderful excuses, but they still sound like just that- excuses.
Excuses nobody deserves, least of all him. Granted, Yeager probably would have taken a bullet by the end of the day, but there was still time for words, Jesus Christ, for a last meal, a last beer, a last anything.]
Cas...
[He trails off, shaking his head and turning his eyes to the sky.]
He's gonna get you killed. Hell, he's gonna get himself killed. He's... he's fucking gone, and you're following him straight off the cliff like those god damn extinct birds.
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Uh.. A bit of both, probably.
[He figures honesty is the best policy here, Dean would probably see right through it if he said otherwise anyway.
And he knows it's true, that following Dean will probably lead him, as this Dean's so eloquently put it, off the cliff like one of those god damn birds. He knows it, but just the same he knows his place is here. Glancing over at Dean, he studies his friend's profile. He'd made his peace with losing this Dean a long time ago but still there's a selfish desire to go back to '09 with him, even though he's certain it isn't even a possibility. He'd wasted so much time back then...
He sighs. There's nothing he can do about it now, and he'd meant what he said: he won't leave this timeline's Dean here alone. He just... Won't.]
I trust him-- You. Whatever. You know what I mean.
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[He settles back against the grass, muttering unhappily, and doesn't look back over as he says it. It's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit that he can't save him. Even if he goes back, puts the timeline right, he's got a feeling this universe is still going to exist, it's still going to play out, and it's still going to suck.
Which is bullshit.
And part of him wants to stay. At least if he's here, he can help. He can help Cas, and Chuck, and he can help keep himself from being a giant fucking asshole, and even if he can't stop the apocalypse, he can help them survive and suffer less. Except he can't. He's got to go back, he's got to save his world from ever becoming this in the first place, he's got to save Sam.
In short, there isn't a goddamn thing he can do about it, which just pisses him off to absolutely no end. He shoves up out of the grass, shoulders tight, and starts walking.]
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Maybe it is, who even knows anymore?
Stretching with a soft pop of his back, he casts a sad glance at the spaces where the grass is crushed and bent, the only evidence of what had actually been a pretty relaxing evening. He frowns and leans down to grab his handgun from where he'd dropped it onto the ground when they'd arrived before turning to follow Dean in silence- he suspects Dean's gonna be pissed that he won't be able to brood in peace, but really, Cas can live with that.]
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