fic: MMOM #8: I Am Not What I Am (Dean/Castiel)
Title: I Am Not What I Am
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 525
Notes: SPOILERS FOR 4.21 Dean/Cas fic #8 for MMOM. Hmm, OTP much? Title from Othello. And why does Show remind me of Othello this week? Show! You’re Shakespearean! As in tragedy. For my flist -- let us be darkly mopey together!
Sam’s hell is Bobby’s panic room.
Somewhere in his mind, Sam is watching Alastair play with his large intestine.
*
He fell asleep finally after blocking out Sam’s screams.
Dean’s hell is sleeping, and dreams.
Somewhere in his mind, Dean is watching Alastair fuck him until he bleeds. Then more.
His nightmare never ends. He knows that now. No one’s coming to save him.
*
Sam’s mother had been gone from his dreams for so long. So when he sees her, here of all places, he knows it’s for real.
He thought his mother had no faith in him. He thought he had broken her heart. Like he breaks everyone’s heart. Always.
So when she comforts him, touches her forehead to his cheek, he thinks he’d rather see the world end right then.
He thinks nothing could hurt him more. He thinks he wants to do whatever it takes to justify his choices, because she believes in him. Because he doesn’t want to believe that voice in his gut, telling him to run.
He doesn’t want to believe anyone. No one but himself. There’s no one else, but himself.
*
Cas is gone from Dean’s dreams. He’d had a year of Cas, visiting him in the night, never taking off his suit, not even his tie. It had hung over him, swinging between his legs like a pendulum, tickling his chest as Cas fucked him every night, never coming, never taking off his clothes. Never closing his eyes.
Blocking out the hell outside and in his mind, Cas. Rocking into him and gripping his skin and quieting his cries, Cas.
Dean had believed it. Finally. The angels needed Dean to be strong, to have faith. He’d spent months convincing Dean he needed it. Months giving him just enough, just enough to know how much he’d really needed it. Then he’d taken it away and thrown it back in his face. Cas.
And Dean needed Cas now.
When Dean awakes, in a cold sweat, hard in his jeans, it’s just about the worst feeling he can remember.
Then he hears Sam’s screams.
He had believed in Castiel. So where was he?
Because Cas had cared enough once to break the rules, cared enough to face the wrath of Heaven himself. Because of Dean.
Cas is weak, tortured, and cruel. Crueler than he’d thought possible. Truly heartless. And utterly, utterly alone, forever.
When Dean reaches into his jeans, he wants to cry. Because he needs to think about Castiel, and he can’t believe he’d been so stupid.
And Dean doesn’t want to believe, in the end, that he had been right about the angels all along. Just wrong about Cas.
No matter how much he would cry, Castiel would not come. Dean was so tired of crying.
So he groans through his teeth when he pulls on his sex, needing any kind of release besides tears. He would go kill some evil sons of bitches, only he had to stay here, watch his brother.
Save Sam, save Sam, save Sam, is all Dean thinks.
He prays to no one, and listens to Sam scream.
The End
Author: eggblue
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Supernatural, Dean, and Castiel are not belong to me.
Word Count: 525
Notes: SPOILERS FOR 4.21 Dean/Cas fic #8 for MMOM. Hmm, OTP much? Title from Othello. And why does Show remind me of Othello this week? Show! You’re Shakespearean! As in tragedy. For my flist -- let us be darkly mopey together!
Sam’s hell is Bobby’s panic room.
Somewhere in his mind, Sam is watching Alastair play with his large intestine.
*
He fell asleep finally after blocking out Sam’s screams.
Dean’s hell is sleeping, and dreams.
Somewhere in his mind, Dean is watching Alastair fuck him until he bleeds. Then more.
His nightmare never ends. He knows that now. No one’s coming to save him.
*
Sam’s mother had been gone from his dreams for so long. So when he sees her, here of all places, he knows it’s for real.
He thought his mother had no faith in him. He thought he had broken her heart. Like he breaks everyone’s heart. Always.
So when she comforts him, touches her forehead to his cheek, he thinks he’d rather see the world end right then.
He thinks nothing could hurt him more. He thinks he wants to do whatever it takes to justify his choices, because she believes in him. Because he doesn’t want to believe that voice in his gut, telling him to run.
He doesn’t want to believe anyone. No one but himself. There’s no one else, but himself.
*
Cas is gone from Dean’s dreams. He’d had a year of Cas, visiting him in the night, never taking off his suit, not even his tie. It had hung over him, swinging between his legs like a pendulum, tickling his chest as Cas fucked him every night, never coming, never taking off his clothes. Never closing his eyes.
Blocking out the hell outside and in his mind, Cas. Rocking into him and gripping his skin and quieting his cries, Cas.
Dean had believed it. Finally. The angels needed Dean to be strong, to have faith. He’d spent months convincing Dean he needed it. Months giving him just enough, just enough to know how much he’d really needed it. Then he’d taken it away and thrown it back in his face. Cas.
And Dean needed Cas now.
When Dean awakes, in a cold sweat, hard in his jeans, it’s just about the worst feeling he can remember.
Then he hears Sam’s screams.
He had believed in Castiel. So where was he?
Because Cas had cared enough once to break the rules, cared enough to face the wrath of Heaven himself. Because of Dean.
Cas is weak, tortured, and cruel. Crueler than he’d thought possible. Truly heartless. And utterly, utterly alone, forever.
When Dean reaches into his jeans, he wants to cry. Because he needs to think about Castiel, and he can’t believe he’d been so stupid.
And Dean doesn’t want to believe, in the end, that he had been right about the angels all along. Just wrong about Cas.
No matter how much he would cry, Castiel would not come. Dean was so tired of crying.
So he groans through his teeth when he pulls on his sex, needing any kind of release besides tears. He would go kill some evil sons of bitches, only he had to stay here, watch his brother.
Save Sam, save Sam, save Sam, is all Dean thinks.
He prays to no one, and listens to Sam scream.
The End