If We Are Wise
Title: If We Are Wise
Characters: Dean/Castiel pre-slash
Rating: PG for a couple swears
Spoilers: For episode 5x14
Summary: Missing scene/episode tag. Takes place immediately after 5x14. Dean's upset. Cas wants to help. 1000-words-ish.
A/N: Once again, I felt compelled to do the episode tag that I'm sure everyone else is writing. *sigh* I should be working on challenge fic. Someone smack me.
"Please," Dean says, breath misting in the cold air.
He drops his eyes from the night sky to the ground near his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face before letting it drop. It clenches into a fist at his side, and he reflexively pounds it into the door of the Impala. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of his breathing. Long moments pass, and then there's a soft flutter of noise behind him.
"You know, usually when someone says they're going to get some air, it means they want to be left alone," Dean says.
"...I see," Castiel says. "I was unaware of that particular nuance of etiquette."
Dean turns around. Castiel's forehead is a furrow of wrinkles from where his eyebrows are trying to knit together in concern. Dean lifts the bottle up and takes a deep swallow.
"Well, you're aware now," he says.
Castiel doesn't move. Dean raises an eyebrow and inadvertently gets pulled into one of their freaky staring contests. After a few moments, he turns away and leans against the car. He takes another swallow of alcohol before setting the bottle on the ground and crossing his arms.
"Seriously," Dean says. "Just go back inside. Or go do whatever it is you do when you're not here."
Castiel's chin tilts up and to the side.
"But... I want to help you," Castiel says haltingly, awkward and honest at the same time.
Dean lets out a short, bitter laugh.
"Some things you can't help."
Castiel steps closer to him. Dean glares. Castiel's gaze flicks assessingly over Dean's features.
"What Famine said," Castiel begins, "it wasn't entirely true."
Dean jerks back and takes a few steps away.
"We are not talking about this."
"It's true that a large part of you has given up hope," Castiel says. "But while you may be broken, you are not an empty shell."
"Screw you," Dean says. He begins to walk away. "You don't know a Goddamn thing about what I am."
From one instant to the next, Castiel is suddenly in front of him, his face inches away from Dean's.
"Considering that I'm the one who put you back together," Castiel says, voice low and dangerous, "I assure you I have a unique perspective on the subject."
The angry retort Dean had ready dies on his lips. Dean opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, aborted attempts at speech. Castiel's expression softens.
"What's troubling you?" Castiel asks.
"Why don't you just do your psychic thing and figure it out?" Dean bites back.
Castiel frowns.
"I would prefer that you tell me," he says. "I am your friend, Dean. Please, let me help you."
Dean wants to get angry, but Castiel is watching him warily, almost like he's expecting Dean to shout at him. Dean sighs and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. The silence stretches. Cas waits patiently. Dean knows that if he walked away now, Castiel would let it go. But after everything, he figures maybe he can toss Cas a little admission here and there. Besides, it's not like what he's about to say is something Cas didn't hear earlier.
"I'm tired, Cas," he says finally. "It's like I'm... dead. I can't feel anything anymore."
Castiel lifts a hand to press against Dean's shoulder.
"And the pain you feel," Castiel says. "Is that nothing?"
Abruptly, hot tears pound against the back of Dean's eyes. All the guilt and frustration rushes in. He thinks of Sam screaming in the panic room. He thinks of the look in his brother's eyes, the blood smeared on his face. He thinks of the twisted, half-eaten bodies in the morgue, that moment when the plastic sheet had been pulled back; He'd had the sudden horrifying realization that he was looking at the future. Doubt presses in on him, the damning thought that everything he tries to do will end at the same conclusion.
Dean can't look at Cas anymore. He turns his eyes back up to the sky. The stars swim and flicker in his distorted vision.
"You once told me," Castiel continues after a while, "that you would take the pain and the guilt, because there is a right way and a wrong way. You convinced me then that some things are worth suffering for. That some things are worth dying for. I still believe that."
"Cas," Dean chokes out. He shakes his head helplessly. He doesn't want to hear it. But his throat is constricting, and he can barely force the air into his lungs. He can't say anything more.
"Maybe we will fail," Castiel says. His fingers dig into Dean's shoulder as he gives a short squeeze. "Maybe we will die, and maybe the earth will burn. But we are doing the only thing we can do, Dean. Because it is right, and you know it."
A sob claws it's way past Dean's lips. His heart is beating sharply, a crashing rhythm so harsh he can feel it pulsing against the skin in his neck. The slide of tears becomes a chilled line tracing down his face. He's caught between fight and flight, frozen.
"It is not only your burden to bear," Castiel says. "You are perhaps the most resilient human I have ever known, but even you cannot do this on your own."
The hand Cas has placed on Dean's shoulder tightens as Castiel pulls him closer. Dean presses backwards and instinctively tries to twist out of the grip. Castiel persists, wrapping his arms around Dean. Dean eventually lets it happen, but his arms hang limply at his sides, his shoulders stiff.
"Cas?" Dean says, voice a bit lost.
"I'm hugging you, Dean," Castiel says, a hint of humor in his voice. "I believe humans use them to express affection and offer comfort."
The words startle a short, watery laugh out of Dean. He raises his arms to hug Cas back. It's a little awkward at first, but eventually, Dean relaxes into the embrace.
"...I'm scared, Cas," Dean admits, long moments later.
"You would be a fool not to be," Castiel says, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "It's alright."
Castiel presses closer, and Dean lets him take some of his weight.
Characters: Dean/Castiel pre-slash
Rating: PG for a couple swears
Spoilers: For episode 5x14
Summary: Missing scene/episode tag. Takes place immediately after 5x14. Dean's upset. Cas wants to help. 1000-words-ish.
A/N: Once again, I felt compelled to do the episode tag that I'm sure everyone else is writing. *sigh* I should be working on challenge fic. Someone smack me.
"Please," Dean says, breath misting in the cold air.
He drops his eyes from the night sky to the ground near his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face before letting it drop. It clenches into a fist at his side, and he reflexively pounds it into the door of the Impala. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of his breathing. Long moments pass, and then there's a soft flutter of noise behind him.
"You know, usually when someone says they're going to get some air, it means they want to be left alone," Dean says.
"...I see," Castiel says. "I was unaware of that particular nuance of etiquette."
Dean turns around. Castiel's forehead is a furrow of wrinkles from where his eyebrows are trying to knit together in concern. Dean lifts the bottle up and takes a deep swallow.
"Well, you're aware now," he says.
Castiel doesn't move. Dean raises an eyebrow and inadvertently gets pulled into one of their freaky staring contests. After a few moments, he turns away and leans against the car. He takes another swallow of alcohol before setting the bottle on the ground and crossing his arms.
"Seriously," Dean says. "Just go back inside. Or go do whatever it is you do when you're not here."
Castiel's chin tilts up and to the side.
"But... I want to help you," Castiel says haltingly, awkward and honest at the same time.
Dean lets out a short, bitter laugh.
"Some things you can't help."
Castiel steps closer to him. Dean glares. Castiel's gaze flicks assessingly over Dean's features.
"What Famine said," Castiel begins, "it wasn't entirely true."
Dean jerks back and takes a few steps away.
"We are not talking about this."
"It's true that a large part of you has given up hope," Castiel says. "But while you may be broken, you are not an empty shell."
"Screw you," Dean says. He begins to walk away. "You don't know a Goddamn thing about what I am."
From one instant to the next, Castiel is suddenly in front of him, his face inches away from Dean's.
"Considering that I'm the one who put you back together," Castiel says, voice low and dangerous, "I assure you I have a unique perspective on the subject."
The angry retort Dean had ready dies on his lips. Dean opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, aborted attempts at speech. Castiel's expression softens.
"What's troubling you?" Castiel asks.
"Why don't you just do your psychic thing and figure it out?" Dean bites back.
Castiel frowns.
"I would prefer that you tell me," he says. "I am your friend, Dean. Please, let me help you."
Dean wants to get angry, but Castiel is watching him warily, almost like he's expecting Dean to shout at him. Dean sighs and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. The silence stretches. Cas waits patiently. Dean knows that if he walked away now, Castiel would let it go. But after everything, he figures maybe he can toss Cas a little admission here and there. Besides, it's not like what he's about to say is something Cas didn't hear earlier.
"I'm tired, Cas," he says finally. "It's like I'm... dead. I can't feel anything anymore."
Castiel lifts a hand to press against Dean's shoulder.
"And the pain you feel," Castiel says. "Is that nothing?"
Abruptly, hot tears pound against the back of Dean's eyes. All the guilt and frustration rushes in. He thinks of Sam screaming in the panic room. He thinks of the look in his brother's eyes, the blood smeared on his face. He thinks of the twisted, half-eaten bodies in the morgue, that moment when the plastic sheet had been pulled back; He'd had the sudden horrifying realization that he was looking at the future. Doubt presses in on him, the damning thought that everything he tries to do will end at the same conclusion.
Dean can't look at Cas anymore. He turns his eyes back up to the sky. The stars swim and flicker in his distorted vision.
"You once told me," Castiel continues after a while, "that you would take the pain and the guilt, because there is a right way and a wrong way. You convinced me then that some things are worth suffering for. That some things are worth dying for. I still believe that."
"Cas," Dean chokes out. He shakes his head helplessly. He doesn't want to hear it. But his throat is constricting, and he can barely force the air into his lungs. He can't say anything more.
"Maybe we will fail," Castiel says. His fingers dig into Dean's shoulder as he gives a short squeeze. "Maybe we will die, and maybe the earth will burn. But we are doing the only thing we can do, Dean. Because it is right, and you know it."
A sob claws it's way past Dean's lips. His heart is beating sharply, a crashing rhythm so harsh he can feel it pulsing against the skin in his neck. The slide of tears becomes a chilled line tracing down his face. He's caught between fight and flight, frozen.
"It is not only your burden to bear," Castiel says. "You are perhaps the most resilient human I have ever known, but even you cannot do this on your own."
The hand Cas has placed on Dean's shoulder tightens as Castiel pulls him closer. Dean presses backwards and instinctively tries to twist out of the grip. Castiel persists, wrapping his arms around Dean. Dean eventually lets it happen, but his arms hang limply at his sides, his shoulders stiff.
"Cas?" Dean says, voice a bit lost.
"I'm hugging you, Dean," Castiel says, a hint of humor in his voice. "I believe humans use them to express affection and offer comfort."
The words startle a short, watery laugh out of Dean. He raises his arms to hug Cas back. It's a little awkward at first, but eventually, Dean relaxes into the embrace.
"...I'm scared, Cas," Dean admits, long moments later.
"You would be a fool not to be," Castiel says, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "It's alright."
Castiel presses closer, and Dean lets him take some of his weight.