fic: you will be alone always and then you will die [christmas fic #4!]
title: you will be alone always and then you will die
rating: r
characters/pairing: dean/castiel. idek. also featuring risa and chuck.
summary: You accidentally catch them together one night, their heads bowed and hands on each others' chests.
notes: 1140 words. for wandersfound who thought she was being cute when she asked for Dean/Cas set in 5.04. OKAY YES, WORLD, I SAW IT IN THAT EPISODE. Obviously. Title a line from Richard Siken, which also seemed appropriate since Lauren introduced me. Uh, Merry late Christmas!
i. Risa
You've never trusted men, not since your dad packed up and stormed out on you and your mother in the middle of the night, cliche Lifetime movie unfolding right before your eyes, and you played your role well. You grew up stern and cold, made sure you knew how to look after yourself, didn't ask for help from a soul since after all, they'd just leave. But when Dean Winchester showed up on your doorstep and pulled you out of a hoard of Crotes, it's like all that went out the window.
Dean Winchester stood on your doorstep covered in the blood of the people he had just killed to save you and you looked back and trusted, automatically and without pause.
That was your first mistake.
Your second mistake is of course, sleeping with him. You'd like to pawn it off as some kind of hero worship, spin some tale about how you were lonely and he was there to comfort you, always there to rescue you. But that's not the truth at all. Dean Winchester may have saved you from certain death, but he most definitely isn't your lord and savior. In fact, you're pretty sure he barely knows you exist. Sure, he climbs into your bed from time to time, slides his head in between your legs and calls you 'baby', but his mind's always somewhere else. On someone else.
You accidentally catch them together one night, their heads bowed and hands on each others' chests. It's never the same between you and Dean again. You don't want to get in the way.
ii. Chuck
While it's true that you wrote about him for years without ever knowing him in person, you don't ever claim to know the inner workings of Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire. It's true, you know more about him than anyone else in the camp, but that most definitely doesn't make you an expert. Especially not lately. You watch as he takes charge of the camp, training everyone in it in the very basics of firearms maintenance, and you're reminded of a scared little boy age ten shakily pointing a shotgun into his brother's dingy motel room and not being able to fire. You don't think there's any remnants of that boy even left, except for maybe the scared part. Everyone's scared, all the time, and maybe Dean does a better job of covering it than anyone else, but only because his outer shell has hardened so much he doesn't let anyone in to see what's on the inside. Anyone except Castiel, that is, and even then you're not sure how much.
You remember writing their first kiss, many years ago, a fumbling experimental thing on both sides that had ended in disaster and left Dean more awkward than he'd ever been in his life, you think. Their interactions had been quiet and to the point for several weeks to come afterward, Cas standing far too close in Dean's personal space and Dean forcing himself not to back away and not to step forward and close the gap all at the same time. It's long since you've written any new words in the gospel of Winchester, even longer since you've written about Castiel, and you think if you did now, they'd all be tinged with bitterness and self-loathing instead of childish adoration.
iii. Castiel
They call him cold, call him fearless. All throughout the camp you hear the whispers of his successes and failures behind his back, in hushed tones full of awe and fear. Everyone is afraid of him, scared of what he might do when given proper motivation, what they've already seen him do when he gets it. You've noticed the looks people give him as he walks through the camp, how people back away from him whenever he's near. You're the one that steps closer, the only one who dares to touch him, to grip his arm when danger is near, to slide your hand around his neck when it isn't. You think perhaps it's the intelligent ones who back away from the remnants of Dean Winchester, righteous man, while you slide closer to him in a bed neither of you bother to call home.
You remember when Dean Winchester was an enigma to you, this creature heaven wanted saved that had no want to be saved, this shell of a man whose pieces you carefully reassembled to the best of your ability. It's his turn to reassemble you now, night after night. You feel helpless. You feel abandoned, betrayed even, by everyone you've ever known, lured into fighting a war with no possible happy ending. Everything you ever knew was a lie, everything you ever did part of an elaborate plan you weren't privy to. You regret it all, save for one thing. He doesn't resemble the man you pulled out of hell anymore, just as scarred now as he was before dying, his mind even more shattered and his walls built even higher. You don't think he remembers what it's like to smile, certain no one in the camp can even picture a smiling Dean Winchester, but sometimes when you're alone he tries, and you think that's more than enough.
iv. Dean
There are days when you think back to how this all started, with a hand print and an angel who could put the fear of god into any soul quite literally. It's almost pathetic how much you wish you could go back there, do it all again some other way. There's one thing you're not sure you could give up, though - late nights with Castiel, his now-muted blue eyes looking up at you like you have all the answers even though he knows you have none. It wasn't so long ago you looked at him the same way; he should know there aren't answers to be had, but he looks for them anyway and you're reminded of a scared little boy asking you if monsters are real.
Sometimes you think Cas is the only thing keeping you alive.
You've become well-acquainted with your need to fix everything, after finally coming to an understanding about it long ago. You're still learning the finer points of giving up but you think that's probably a good thing in a world full of reasons to stop trying. In some ways you probably have given up without even realizing, your mind heavy with the deaths of innocent victims infected with the virus, possessed hosts tortured for information that's never forthcoming. It's a weary world you live in and you can feel it beating you down every day, weight on your shoulders crushing you down until you're four feet tall again, showing your little brother the safety of a gun. No, you really can't fix everything.
You can try, though.
rating: r
characters/pairing: dean/castiel. idek. also featuring risa and chuck.
summary: You accidentally catch them together one night, their heads bowed and hands on each others' chests.
notes: 1140 words. for wandersfound who thought she was being cute when she asked for Dean/Cas set in 5.04. OKAY YES, WORLD, I SAW IT IN THAT EPISODE. Obviously. Title a line from Richard Siken, which also seemed appropriate since Lauren introduced me. Uh, Merry late Christmas!
i. Risa
You've never trusted men, not since your dad packed up and stormed out on you and your mother in the middle of the night, cliche Lifetime movie unfolding right before your eyes, and you played your role well. You grew up stern and cold, made sure you knew how to look after yourself, didn't ask for help from a soul since after all, they'd just leave. But when Dean Winchester showed up on your doorstep and pulled you out of a hoard of Crotes, it's like all that went out the window.
Dean Winchester stood on your doorstep covered in the blood of the people he had just killed to save you and you looked back and trusted, automatically and without pause.
That was your first mistake.
Your second mistake is of course, sleeping with him. You'd like to pawn it off as some kind of hero worship, spin some tale about how you were lonely and he was there to comfort you, always there to rescue you. But that's not the truth at all. Dean Winchester may have saved you from certain death, but he most definitely isn't your lord and savior. In fact, you're pretty sure he barely knows you exist. Sure, he climbs into your bed from time to time, slides his head in between your legs and calls you 'baby', but his mind's always somewhere else. On someone else.
You accidentally catch them together one night, their heads bowed and hands on each others' chests. It's never the same between you and Dean again. You don't want to get in the way.
ii. Chuck
While it's true that you wrote about him for years without ever knowing him in person, you don't ever claim to know the inner workings of Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire. It's true, you know more about him than anyone else in the camp, but that most definitely doesn't make you an expert. Especially not lately. You watch as he takes charge of the camp, training everyone in it in the very basics of firearms maintenance, and you're reminded of a scared little boy age ten shakily pointing a shotgun into his brother's dingy motel room and not being able to fire. You don't think there's any remnants of that boy even left, except for maybe the scared part. Everyone's scared, all the time, and maybe Dean does a better job of covering it than anyone else, but only because his outer shell has hardened so much he doesn't let anyone in to see what's on the inside. Anyone except Castiel, that is, and even then you're not sure how much.
You remember writing their first kiss, many years ago, a fumbling experimental thing on both sides that had ended in disaster and left Dean more awkward than he'd ever been in his life, you think. Their interactions had been quiet and to the point for several weeks to come afterward, Cas standing far too close in Dean's personal space and Dean forcing himself not to back away and not to step forward and close the gap all at the same time. It's long since you've written any new words in the gospel of Winchester, even longer since you've written about Castiel, and you think if you did now, they'd all be tinged with bitterness and self-loathing instead of childish adoration.
iii. Castiel
They call him cold, call him fearless. All throughout the camp you hear the whispers of his successes and failures behind his back, in hushed tones full of awe and fear. Everyone is afraid of him, scared of what he might do when given proper motivation, what they've already seen him do when he gets it. You've noticed the looks people give him as he walks through the camp, how people back away from him whenever he's near. You're the one that steps closer, the only one who dares to touch him, to grip his arm when danger is near, to slide your hand around his neck when it isn't. You think perhaps it's the intelligent ones who back away from the remnants of Dean Winchester, righteous man, while you slide closer to him in a bed neither of you bother to call home.
You remember when Dean Winchester was an enigma to you, this creature heaven wanted saved that had no want to be saved, this shell of a man whose pieces you carefully reassembled to the best of your ability. It's his turn to reassemble you now, night after night. You feel helpless. You feel abandoned, betrayed even, by everyone you've ever known, lured into fighting a war with no possible happy ending. Everything you ever knew was a lie, everything you ever did part of an elaborate plan you weren't privy to. You regret it all, save for one thing. He doesn't resemble the man you pulled out of hell anymore, just as scarred now as he was before dying, his mind even more shattered and his walls built even higher. You don't think he remembers what it's like to smile, certain no one in the camp can even picture a smiling Dean Winchester, but sometimes when you're alone he tries, and you think that's more than enough.
iv. Dean
There are days when you think back to how this all started, with a hand print and an angel who could put the fear of god into any soul quite literally. It's almost pathetic how much you wish you could go back there, do it all again some other way. There's one thing you're not sure you could give up, though - late nights with Castiel, his now-muted blue eyes looking up at you like you have all the answers even though he knows you have none. It wasn't so long ago you looked at him the same way; he should know there aren't answers to be had, but he looks for them anyway and you're reminded of a scared little boy asking you if monsters are real.
Sometimes you think Cas is the only thing keeping you alive.
You've become well-acquainted with your need to fix everything, after finally coming to an understanding about it long ago. You're still learning the finer points of giving up but you think that's probably a good thing in a world full of reasons to stop trying. In some ways you probably have given up without even realizing, your mind heavy with the deaths of innocent victims infected with the virus, possessed hosts tortured for information that's never forthcoming. It's a weary world you live in and you can feel it beating you down every day, weight on your shoulders crushing you down until you're four feet tall again, showing your little brother the safety of a gun. No, you really can't fix everything.
You can try, though.