How do I keep going on, when everything is broken...
Title: How do I keep going on, when everything is broken...
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Spoilers: 7.02
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 770
Summary: How do you say goodbye to a friend when you barely have time to sit still...
The whiskey burned its way down his throat, but he barely felt it. He was numb, hanging on by a thread as things went from one disaster to another, sweeping him along like a bit of flotsam caught in a torrent, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to fight the current. He took another swig of whiskey, trying to drown himself in it, even as he fought for breath.
Dean's fingers gripped the bottle so tight, his knuckles turned white, as he tried to fight the memory of a sodden tan trench coat that was so vivid, his fingers still felt cold and wet. Everything felt cold. Cas was really gone this time. Dean resisted the thought, refusing to accept it, even as it consumed him.
There were bigger problems to deal with, monsters bent on destruction, not the least of which, were rattling around his brother's head. The wall in Sam's mind had crumbled and fallen to dust, and Dean had no idea how bad it really was, and the Leviathan, he had no idea where to start, how to even begin to fight them.
And then there was Cas. Or there wasn't Cas, more to the point. Dean didn't have time to grieve, to say I'm sorry, or you're forgiven, or goodbye. He didn't have time, the energy, or the strength.
How could he let go of a friendship, of a bond, he never expected to make, never understood, and if he was honest, never fully appreciated. Cas was just Cas, always there, even when he shouldn't have been, no matter how far Dean pushed, or how often he asked the impossible. Cas was always there, only now he wasn't.
Dean raised the bottle to his lips, closing his eyes as he let the liquor flow down his throat, hoping it would numb him further so he could keep moving, keep going on when everything in him wanted nothing more than to just stop.
Dean put the bottle down on the table a little unsteadily. He rubbed his hands against his jeans, trying to warm them, trying to erase the feel of wet material that wasn't really there, but that he couldn't shake. His fingers bumped against the shape of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, taking another swig as he flipped it open. He stared blankly at the three numbers at the top of his contact list. Sam, Bobby, Cas.
All these years trying to save people, to stop the world ending bloody, and for what? Those three names encompassed all that was left of his world, and now, one was gone, and another left broken. Hell, they were all broken.
His fingers idly caressed the phone as he continued drinking. He lifted his head as he heard a noise from downstairs. Sam was awake, or having more nightmares. Dean wondered if there was even a difference.
Bobby stuck his head through the open door, his eyes flicking to the bottle in Dean's hands.
"I've got it," Bobby said quietly, nodding his head towards the stairs, looking like he was about to say more.
Bobby glanced at the bottle again; he seemed to decide against saying anything else and headed downstairs to Sam. Dean went back to looking at his phone, taking comfort from the fact that Bobby was there for Sam.
Dean rubbed his fingers over the screen of his phone, leaving smudges, as he tried to hold onto a connection that wasn't there anymore. He tried to remember the last time he had called Cas, it seemed a lifetime ago. He didn't even know where Cas' phone was, probably lost somewhere, like so much else.
Without really thinking, Dean dialled Cas' number, his lips twitched sadly as he listened to Cas' voice message. The sound of Cas mashing buttons and the tone inviting him to leave a message sounded loudly in his ear.
"Cas..." Dean paused, taking a shaking breath. "You stupid son of a bitch..."
Dean had no idea if he meant Cas, or himself. Probably both.
He flipped the phone shut and tossed it across the table, watching it skid to a halt after it bounced off the wall, before grabbing the now almost empty bottle and heading downstairs to sit with Sam.
Dean wondered with each step how much longer he could keep moving, how much more pain he could take before breaking apart completely. He opened the door to see Sam tossing in his sleep. Not much, he decided, when everything was already falling apart at the seams....
Author: fate_incomplete
Rating: PG
Characters: Dean
Spoilers: 7.02
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 770
Summary: How do you say goodbye to a friend when you barely have time to sit still...
The whiskey burned its way down his throat, but he barely felt it. He was numb, hanging on by a thread as things went from one disaster to another, sweeping him along like a bit of flotsam caught in a torrent, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to fight the current. He took another swig of whiskey, trying to drown himself in it, even as he fought for breath.
Dean's fingers gripped the bottle so tight, his knuckles turned white, as he tried to fight the memory of a sodden tan trench coat that was so vivid, his fingers still felt cold and wet. Everything felt cold. Cas was really gone this time. Dean resisted the thought, refusing to accept it, even as it consumed him.
There were bigger problems to deal with, monsters bent on destruction, not the least of which, were rattling around his brother's head. The wall in Sam's mind had crumbled and fallen to dust, and Dean had no idea how bad it really was, and the Leviathan, he had no idea where to start, how to even begin to fight them.
And then there was Cas. Or there wasn't Cas, more to the point. Dean didn't have time to grieve, to say I'm sorry, or you're forgiven, or goodbye. He didn't have time, the energy, or the strength.
How could he let go of a friendship, of a bond, he never expected to make, never understood, and if he was honest, never fully appreciated. Cas was just Cas, always there, even when he shouldn't have been, no matter how far Dean pushed, or how often he asked the impossible. Cas was always there, only now he wasn't.
Dean raised the bottle to his lips, closing his eyes as he let the liquor flow down his throat, hoping it would numb him further so he could keep moving, keep going on when everything in him wanted nothing more than to just stop.
Dean put the bottle down on the table a little unsteadily. He rubbed his hands against his jeans, trying to warm them, trying to erase the feel of wet material that wasn't really there, but that he couldn't shake. His fingers bumped against the shape of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, taking another swig as he flipped it open. He stared blankly at the three numbers at the top of his contact list. Sam, Bobby, Cas.
All these years trying to save people, to stop the world ending bloody, and for what? Those three names encompassed all that was left of his world, and now, one was gone, and another left broken. Hell, they were all broken.
His fingers idly caressed the phone as he continued drinking. He lifted his head as he heard a noise from downstairs. Sam was awake, or having more nightmares. Dean wondered if there was even a difference.
Bobby stuck his head through the open door, his eyes flicking to the bottle in Dean's hands.
"I've got it," Bobby said quietly, nodding his head towards the stairs, looking like he was about to say more.
Bobby glanced at the bottle again; he seemed to decide against saying anything else and headed downstairs to Sam. Dean went back to looking at his phone, taking comfort from the fact that Bobby was there for Sam.
Dean rubbed his fingers over the screen of his phone, leaving smudges, as he tried to hold onto a connection that wasn't there anymore. He tried to remember the last time he had called Cas, it seemed a lifetime ago. He didn't even know where Cas' phone was, probably lost somewhere, like so much else.
Without really thinking, Dean dialled Cas' number, his lips twitched sadly as he listened to Cas' voice message. The sound of Cas mashing buttons and the tone inviting him to leave a message sounded loudly in his ear.
"Cas..." Dean paused, taking a shaking breath. "You stupid son of a bitch..."
Dean had no idea if he meant Cas, or himself. Probably both.
He flipped the phone shut and tossed it across the table, watching it skid to a halt after it bounced off the wall, before grabbing the now almost empty bottle and heading downstairs to sit with Sam.
Dean wondered with each step how much longer he could keep moving, how much more pain he could take before breaking apart completely. He opened the door to see Sam tossing in his sleep. Not much, he decided, when everything was already falling apart at the seams....