Things Fall Apart [Part 1/?]
Title: Things Fall Apart [Part 1/?]
Authors: kimisgirl (wrote Cas, future!dean and Future!Cas) and doubledgedsword (wrote Dean)
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC17 this part. Non.Con (not this part but this story will include rape at one point) Mental and Physical abuse hinted at.
Summary: The future Dean finds himself in thanks to Zachariah is not like the past he has just left. He and Castiel are no longer together and he is shocked to find out just how bad it's gone for them. He is horrified by his future self and how broken he has become. Can he do anything
AN: This is a continuation of the "A love story" verse. It can stand alone if you don't want to read the previous story. But parts of it will make more sense if you do read it :D. This story is completely written and parts will be put up ever second day or so! Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: None of the supernatural characters or storylines belong to us :( -sad face-
what about hope? .....It's defective
I.T.S C.O.R.R.O.D.E.D A.N.D D.E.C.A.Y.E.D
Castiel lay back on his bed staring up at the ceiling feeling his drug induced high starting to recede past an acceptable level, but for the moment he didn't have enough motivation to move his sore and worn out body off his shabby, filthy bed. In a world ruled by the Devil and fucking Zombie's the little things like washing one's sheets really didn't seem that fucking important any more. Course, Cas had never really been taught to look after the domestic shit anyway, not being completely human and all. Even if now he was stuck in this fucking body, powerless, weak and about as useful as tits on a bull.
Groaning he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head into the thin pillow. He was sweaty and stuck of sex and whiskey. His night of mindless, meaningless sex with... fuck he couldn't even remember how many women there'd been hung limp on his mind. It meant nothing to him, nothing meant anything to him any more. Not in his perpetual state of drug addled semi awareness. It was just easier that way, because then he didn't need to think. Thinking was the worst thing Cas could do, that he knew for sure, because ever time he even got close the pain was unbearable. His chest tightened and physically stung. His head pounding and yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional bullshit. The memories of what had once been were the worst.... So hell yeah, Cas fucked himself into exhaustion, drank himself into a stupor and drugged himself up so it didn't hurt any more. Just needed the hurt to stop....
He groaned heavily and pulled the pillow into him, curling around it in a near fetal position as he closed his eye's tight. He knew he should get up and just go get fuckin' stoned. He didn't want to think about this shit, but he couldn't drag himself off the bed right now. He knew Dean was out on a mission and the tug of fear for the man he .... used to love overwhelmed his desire for oblivion. And he FUCKING hated Dean right now for still being about to hold his fucking heart in his hands like that. Most of all though, he hated himself, because he knew he was pathetic, clinging to feelings meant to be long dead. Dean didn't love him anymore, Dean didn't love anyone anymore. Hell Dean didn't even love his family anymore. Not Bobby, not him, not Sam.... especially not Sam.
Everything Dean had in him that had given him the ability to love, to feel the basic human emotions had died the day Sam had said yes... the day Cas lost him, lost his heart, his soul... his life. They hadn't even ever had that conversation, they hadn't needed to. Castiel saw it the moment he looked at Dean that day. Saw him die inside, say the light leave his eyes, the blank look behind his green eyes all Cas had known since that day. And FUCK did that hurt. Hurt more than Castiel would ever admit to anyone... ever.
He shut himself off, made it look like he didn't care, like he was ok with losing the only thing in this fucked up excuse for a life that had kept it worth while hadn't killed him as much as Dean losing Sam had killed him. Anyone who looked close enough knew it though, knew Cas had been drowning ever since. The one person who should have seen it, should have cared however, either didn't see or didn't care. Dean only ever spoke to him if he had to now, he didn't care if Cas had lost his grace, that he was human now. Didn't care what that had been like for the angel. Didn't care that Cas was slowly killing him... or not so slowly really... with drink and drugs. Didn't care that he fucked everything with tits and a heart beat.... didn't care....
Castiel had long ago hoping something would spark some sort of emotion in Dean. He had hoped the orgies would get him some sort of jealousy, the drugs some sort of anger. He got nothing... Dean just didn't care anymore, about anything... Well that wasn't true, there was one thing, and only one thing that Dean cared about now... killing Lucifer, killing Sam..
Wait! He scrunched up his eyes some and frowned hard. He'd forgotten, there was one thing Dean still thought he was good for... An outlet for his anger, when he wanted to scream and yell and hit someone, he some how always ended up at Castiel's door, fuming with anger, violence. Castiel just took what the man dished out and then would spend the next week so stoned out of his mind that he could barely move out of bed. He knew he should fight back, that taking this abuse was fucked up, but a very sick and twisted part of him, and lets face it, not much of him was exactly stable these days, clung to the moments when Dean came to him to use him as a punching back or to tear strips of him with his words because.... because at least it showed Cas that the man still knew he was there, that Cas was still breathing. Cas clung to that, he knew it was pathetic and each time his self-loathing and general feeling of uselessness increased ten fold.
And yet.... he clung... clung to anything. anything Dean gave him...
~*~
W.H.A.T A.B.O.U.T F.A.I.T.H.? I.T.S D.E.F.E.C.T.I.V.E
it's tattered and it's frayed
Dean had just broken out of the handcuffs that his future self had placed him in (and that was a weird enough situation to wrap his head around as it was!) and got accosted by the future Chuck and a very angry young woman named Risa. After eluding Risa without any injuries, and armed with information from the future Chuck, Dean went in search of Castiel. It had been such a relief for him to hear that there would be a familiar face up ahead, despite all the doom and gloom around him. Croatoans, the world in tatters, humanity's last bastion almost completely devoid of sane chicks... and his Impala looking like it had been entered in a demolition derby. He smiled at the thought of Castiel, and equally as much at the thought of his angel being able to send him back home... back to where he could wake up and see Cas, and not a world in ashes.
He hadn't understood Chuck's little giggle and jibe about Cas not going anywhere. It seemed odd to him. When he reached the angel's cabin and pushed open the door, the acrid smell of marijuana smoke and dirty laundry assaulted his nostrils. He flinched, and coughed, covering his mouth and nose with his hand before trying to enter. The room was dim and downright disgustingly dirty. Once he was inside, he could smell stale sweat, whiskey and sex on the air, and he felt his brows furrow, wondering if he was interrupting something between his future self and his future angel.
When his eyes fell on the angel slumped on the bed, Dean's heart twisted painfully in his chest. What in the name of all that was worth saving had happened to him! His eyes were bloodshot, he was dirty, unshaved and looked positively gaunt and ill. Dean thought his heart was going to break. He couldn't stand the sight of Cas like this!
"Castiel..." he whispered hoarsely. He went to the filthy bed Cas was laying on, and tried not to think about what all the stains on the darkened sheets were from. To his horror, Cas looked as though he had been through a nasty battle, even though his injuries were old. There were the last yellow stages of a wicked bruise on his face, and he just looked generally beat up - much like Dean himself often did following a vicious hunt.
"Baby, who did this to you?" Dean demanded, feeling bile rise in his gut and threatening to turn his stomach completely. He hoped that Cas would identify the perp, so that if his future self didn't know, well then... his present self would have to kick some ass and teach whoever had hurt his angel to keep their grubby paws to themselves.
This future world was fucked up as it was, he didn't want to think about Cas getting beat up in it to make it any worse.
~*~
His body tensed before Dean had even stepped into his cabin, it was like he could feel him approaching. Which was strange because it was a very long time since he'd felt anything near that leave of connection with the man. He was tense only for a moment before allowing himself to sink deep into his drug addled mind and hide there till what ever was coming was over and he could spend the next week so stoned all he could do was giggle and fuck away the pain.
He wondered briefly if he should find a gay guy and fuck him so hard and loud Dean would be sure to hear.... it was a thought he'd entertained over and over again in the last three years, but he'd never acted on it. Truth was... he couldn't bring himself to be with another guy. Dean was the only man he ever wanted that way, and he couldn't wrap his mind around fucking a guy just for the sex. What he'd shared with Dean had been so much more than that, it had never been about the sex itself even if it had been mind blowing. It had always been about love.
Castiel furrowed his brows when Dean entered, something was wrong, different, he couldn't feel the anger flowing off him in waves, instead he thought he sensed... what? Confusion, worry... he must be more fucking high than he thought. And since when did Dean call him Castiel any more? And WHY in the name of all thats fucking holy, was he sitting on the bed beside Cas' stretched out and almost completely naked body. All he had on was a pair of cotton briefs, they had once been white, but were gray and worn now. Not like he could just go down to the local walmart and buy some more... and his angel hoodoo was long gone, so he just dealt with what he had. Not like he really gave a fuck anyway.
He could feel Dean's eyes on him, studying his back as he lay face down in the pillow breathing softly. He still hadn't moved, he was waiting for the shoe to drop, for Dean' to let rip with what ever it was he felt was his fault this time. Hell sometimes there wasn't even a reason, he just simply ran out of croats to kill or Demon's to torture. It wasn't until he heard Dean's next words that he grunted in shock and annoyed disbelief. Was Dean seriously going to do this to him after years of nothing but hatred and abuse. Come around calling him baby and acting like he had no idea who had hurt him...
"Fuck you Dean, you know exactly who did this to me, and don't you dare call me baby. I am NOT your anything any more and you know it" he growled out into the pillow. He was fucking PISSED. He could handle the anger, he could handle the abuse but he could not handle kindness. Especially not this fucked up shit Dean seemed to be spitting out. Maybe the man had finally lost his mind.... Cas wouldn't have been surprised really.
He finally rose his head from the pillow and rolled onto his side to stare at Dean, revealing a large purple bruise across his ribs from the last time he'd seen Dean. Needless to say, Dean had been pretty fucking pissed of that night. Not that Cas knew what about.
Anger and pain flitted across Cas' face for a moment before he hide it and looked up at Dean unemotionally for all of about five seconds before his eye's widened and he jumped off the bed suddenly. Shock running through him as he stood and blinked at Dean suddenly feeling a little dizzy.
"Whoa... strange..." he said suddenly, as he continued to blink at Dean. "You...are not you -- Not "now" you, anyway" he continued as a shock wave ran over Cas and he hurriedly asked "What year are you from?"
It explained the weird feeling he had gotten when Dean, this Dean had entered. It was a seriously fucked up situation if you ask him. He didn't know whether to laugh his head off or fall to the ground and sob. The last fucking thing he needed right now was two Dean's, especially when this one seemed to be from a time where he still gave a crap about Castiel. "Who did this to you? Was it Zachariah?" he asked still curious even as he started to shut himself off again the way he had learnt to do whenever he got too close to Dean these days. His mind flying to the weed he had tucked into a pair of socks in his draw. He thought momentarily of going to grab it, thinking it would be much better for him to be nicely toasted for this particular conversation. He however, couldn't take his eyes off Deans right now. This Dean's eye's were so different, open, still alive, still held the ability to love. And it almost broke Cas all over again to see those eyes looking at him with love in them once again.
In that moment he wasn't sure who he hated more, this Dean, his Dean or fucking Zachariah for bring this on him....
~*~
Dean flinched as though Castiel's words were physical blows. "Cas!" he said, obvious hurt in his voice. He had never heard Castiel sound so angry or so empty before, and it cut him right down to his soul to hear his voice so twisted with pain. He instinctively reached out a hand to comfort Cas, and pulled it back sharply, not wanting another harsh outburst. He knew it wasn't aimed at him... well, it was, it was aimed at him in the future, but it killed him all the same. Castiel's face was different... not stoic and carven like he was used to seeing it (save for when they were in bed, and it was all slack-jawed ecstacy) but looser, like it had been loosened artificially. He was clearly not taking care of himself, his eyes... oh God, his eyes looked like the eyes of a broken doll - hollow, lifeless and eerie. Dean looked into those eyes until he couldn't bear to look at the anger smouldering within them beneath the emptiness, and looked down at his body for something else to focus on.
His eyes fell on the livid bruise on the angel's chest, and Dean all but jumped off the bed and took a few steps back. He... he couldn't have. Between Castiel's words and his battered body telling the tale, Dean knew on the spot who had done this to him. He had. Future he had, anyway. Dean wanted to throw up. He tried to rationalise it in his mind - maybe Cas had done something wrong... but no, Dean knew he would never beat someone like this for any reason unless they were an evil supernatural being, and he especially knew that nothing Cas could ever do would force him to raise a hand against him in anger. But a small part of his mind that was not his friend told him, Your future self did this to the one man you have ever loved. Look what has become of your precious Castiel.
Dean wanted to sob. How... How! It was the only question rolling around his mind. How could he have done this to Cas, no matter what the provocation? How come they weren't together any more? How had his mind become so fucked up over five years that he kicked the shit out of the man he loved?
"What did I do to you" he whispered tearfully. He didn't want to accept this future. His angel... his wonderful angel was degenerated into this. It was like the angel had flown the coop and left a damaged, heartless junkie in his vessel. "Cas, this isn't you..." Dean said, protesting the change even though he knew that the angel wouldn't magically drop the persona and tell him it was an elaborate ruse. He wished he would. Anything would be better than this right now. Anything!
He tried to recover himself when Cas jumped off the bed. The angel seemed to sway on his feet for a moment, and Dean had to fight the instinct to reach out and steady him. "No! yeah. Yes, exactly. I'm me from 2009. And yeah, it was Zachariah. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on, why you seem to be high as a kite, and then strap your angel wings on and fly me back to my page on the calendar?" He wanted out of this world. He had seen enough. He was still never going to say yes to Michael, but he wanted to get the hell out of the future and go back home, back when Cas looked at him with love, and not like someone was squeezing his heart.
~*~
Castiel let out a loud snort and laughed as he turned from Dean for a moment, a cold ironic grin spreading across his face and making him look somewhat deranged. His body shook with cold laughter that had nothing to do with joy or finding anything funny. It was an outlet for all the bullshit that was going on right now. All the crap he wanted to say to Dean... no not say, fucking scream at him. He wanted to tear him down and keep on kicking until he was as bruised and broken as he was. He wanted to destroy him the way he had destroyed Cas. He knew it wasn't logical, that breaking this version of Dean wouldn't change what his Dean had done to him. Oh how he wanted to do it though.... finally a chance to show Dean just how much it hurt, just how fucked up he was now because of him. His Dean, he knew, wouldn't give a fuck no matter what Cas said or did to him. He didn't care enough anymore to even blink...
... But this Dean... this one still cared, still loved Cas. Hell the man was almost crying by the sounds of his voice and Cas knew just what it took for Dean Winchester to cry. An evil, dead voice inside him found a sick pleasure in Dean's pain and he turned back to him and smiled widely at him and held out his arms. "What do you think you did lover!" he said cheerfully as he turned slowly in a circle for Dean to see all his injuries clearly. "Welcome to your future Angel" and the venom and sarcasm that laced his voice as he used his own pet name for Dean showed just how far from fucked up he had gotten in the past five years.
"It's all me up in here buddy! 100% pure fucked up Cas..." he snorted as he laughed again cruelly. "Whatcha reckon? An improvement?" he knew he was being fucking horrible but all he could do was smile coldly at the though and took pleasure in his words. Finally able to get some back, even if it wasn't directed at the person who deserved them. In his mind it was good enough.
He turned from Dean again at the mention of his strapping on his wings and he laughed so hard it almost made him cough. Oh wouldn't that be nice, 'strapping on his wings' just like that. Like it was that fucking easy. He snorted and slowly turned back around and shook his head. "I wish i could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry -- no dice" He chuckled then still staring at Dean coolly and faltering for a moment at the pain in Dean's eyes. He was too far gone for it to do much more than give him a moments pause though. There was to much pain and bitter anger for him to care enough to stop his bullshit. He wanted to hurt Dean remember, wanted to break his heart. So he should be happy the man looked so close to collapsing in pain. And this thought brought a sick smile to his eyes as he studied Dean in a way he hadn't done for years.
"Well isn't this just fucking peachy Dean! How are you anyway, hows the weather? How's Sam? He found out he's Lucifer's man suit yet? Hoo boy was that a fun time. And you just not even listening to him when he said he needed you... Dear me Dean, how the might fall don't they!" he said in a stupidly cheerful conversational manner and grinned as he went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Absinthe. "You want some?" he asked with every pretense of hospitality, as though he hadn't just been trying to tear the man to pieces emotionally. And he grinned again as he took a long swig from the bottle and hoped the wonderful buzz of the drug/drink would kick in soon before he completely fell to pieces like he was threatening to do right now.
FUCK Dean he though viciously as he let out a low growl as his brow frowned again and his eyes went from crazy, sick, smiles to blank and devoid again.
~*~
TBC
Chapter Two up soon folks. Let me know what you think so far.
Authors: kimisgirl (wrote Cas, future!dean and Future!Cas) and doubledgedsword (wrote Dean)
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating/Warnings: NC17 this part. Non.Con (not this part but this story will include rape at one point) Mental and Physical abuse hinted at.
Summary: The future Dean finds himself in thanks to Zachariah is not like the past he has just left. He and Castiel are no longer together and he is shocked to find out just how bad it's gone for them. He is horrified by his future self and how broken he has become. Can he do anything
AN: This is a continuation of the "A love story" verse. It can stand alone if you don't want to read the previous story. But parts of it will make more sense if you do read it :D. This story is completely written and parts will be put up ever second day or so! Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: None of the supernatural characters or storylines belong to us :( -sad face-
what about hope? .....It's defective
I.T.S C.O.R.R.O.D.E.D A.N.D D.E.C.A.Y.E.D
Castiel lay back on his bed staring up at the ceiling feeling his drug induced high starting to recede past an acceptable level, but for the moment he didn't have enough motivation to move his sore and worn out body off his shabby, filthy bed. In a world ruled by the Devil and fucking Zombie's the little things like washing one's sheets really didn't seem that fucking important any more. Course, Cas had never really been taught to look after the domestic shit anyway, not being completely human and all. Even if now he was stuck in this fucking body, powerless, weak and about as useful as tits on a bull.
Groaning he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head into the thin pillow. He was sweaty and stuck of sex and whiskey. His night of mindless, meaningless sex with... fuck he couldn't even remember how many women there'd been hung limp on his mind. It meant nothing to him, nothing meant anything to him any more. Not in his perpetual state of drug addled semi awareness. It was just easier that way, because then he didn't need to think. Thinking was the worst thing Cas could do, that he knew for sure, because ever time he even got close the pain was unbearable. His chest tightened and physically stung. His head pounding and yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional bullshit. The memories of what had once been were the worst.... So hell yeah, Cas fucked himself into exhaustion, drank himself into a stupor and drugged himself up so it didn't hurt any more. Just needed the hurt to stop....
He groaned heavily and pulled the pillow into him, curling around it in a near fetal position as he closed his eye's tight. He knew he should get up and just go get fuckin' stoned. He didn't want to think about this shit, but he couldn't drag himself off the bed right now. He knew Dean was out on a mission and the tug of fear for the man he .... used to love overwhelmed his desire for oblivion. And he FUCKING hated Dean right now for still being about to hold his fucking heart in his hands like that. Most of all though, he hated himself, because he knew he was pathetic, clinging to feelings meant to be long dead. Dean didn't love him anymore, Dean didn't love anyone anymore. Hell Dean didn't even love his family anymore. Not Bobby, not him, not Sam.... especially not Sam.
Everything Dean had in him that had given him the ability to love, to feel the basic human emotions had died the day Sam had said yes... the day Cas lost him, lost his heart, his soul... his life. They hadn't even ever had that conversation, they hadn't needed to. Castiel saw it the moment he looked at Dean that day. Saw him die inside, say the light leave his eyes, the blank look behind his green eyes all Cas had known since that day. And FUCK did that hurt. Hurt more than Castiel would ever admit to anyone... ever.
He shut himself off, made it look like he didn't care, like he was ok with losing the only thing in this fucked up excuse for a life that had kept it worth while hadn't killed him as much as Dean losing Sam had killed him. Anyone who looked close enough knew it though, knew Cas had been drowning ever since. The one person who should have seen it, should have cared however, either didn't see or didn't care. Dean only ever spoke to him if he had to now, he didn't care if Cas had lost his grace, that he was human now. Didn't care what that had been like for the angel. Didn't care that Cas was slowly killing him... or not so slowly really... with drink and drugs. Didn't care that he fucked everything with tits and a heart beat.... didn't care....
Castiel had long ago hoping something would spark some sort of emotion in Dean. He had hoped the orgies would get him some sort of jealousy, the drugs some sort of anger. He got nothing... Dean just didn't care anymore, about anything... Well that wasn't true, there was one thing, and only one thing that Dean cared about now... killing Lucifer, killing Sam..
Wait! He scrunched up his eyes some and frowned hard. He'd forgotten, there was one thing Dean still thought he was good for... An outlet for his anger, when he wanted to scream and yell and hit someone, he some how always ended up at Castiel's door, fuming with anger, violence. Castiel just took what the man dished out and then would spend the next week so stoned out of his mind that he could barely move out of bed. He knew he should fight back, that taking this abuse was fucked up, but a very sick and twisted part of him, and lets face it, not much of him was exactly stable these days, clung to the moments when Dean came to him to use him as a punching back or to tear strips of him with his words because.... because at least it showed Cas that the man still knew he was there, that Cas was still breathing. Cas clung to that, he knew it was pathetic and each time his self-loathing and general feeling of uselessness increased ten fold.
And yet.... he clung... clung to anything. anything Dean gave him...
~*~
W.H.A.T A.B.O.U.T F.A.I.T.H.? I.T.S D.E.F.E.C.T.I.V.E
it's tattered and it's frayed
Dean had just broken out of the handcuffs that his future self had placed him in (and that was a weird enough situation to wrap his head around as it was!) and got accosted by the future Chuck and a very angry young woman named Risa. After eluding Risa without any injuries, and armed with information from the future Chuck, Dean went in search of Castiel. It had been such a relief for him to hear that there would be a familiar face up ahead, despite all the doom and gloom around him. Croatoans, the world in tatters, humanity's last bastion almost completely devoid of sane chicks... and his Impala looking like it had been entered in a demolition derby. He smiled at the thought of Castiel, and equally as much at the thought of his angel being able to send him back home... back to where he could wake up and see Cas, and not a world in ashes.
He hadn't understood Chuck's little giggle and jibe about Cas not going anywhere. It seemed odd to him. When he reached the angel's cabin and pushed open the door, the acrid smell of marijuana smoke and dirty laundry assaulted his nostrils. He flinched, and coughed, covering his mouth and nose with his hand before trying to enter. The room was dim and downright disgustingly dirty. Once he was inside, he could smell stale sweat, whiskey and sex on the air, and he felt his brows furrow, wondering if he was interrupting something between his future self and his future angel.
When his eyes fell on the angel slumped on the bed, Dean's heart twisted painfully in his chest. What in the name of all that was worth saving had happened to him! His eyes were bloodshot, he was dirty, unshaved and looked positively gaunt and ill. Dean thought his heart was going to break. He couldn't stand the sight of Cas like this!
"Castiel..." he whispered hoarsely. He went to the filthy bed Cas was laying on, and tried not to think about what all the stains on the darkened sheets were from. To his horror, Cas looked as though he had been through a nasty battle, even though his injuries were old. There were the last yellow stages of a wicked bruise on his face, and he just looked generally beat up - much like Dean himself often did following a vicious hunt.
"Baby, who did this to you?" Dean demanded, feeling bile rise in his gut and threatening to turn his stomach completely. He hoped that Cas would identify the perp, so that if his future self didn't know, well then... his present self would have to kick some ass and teach whoever had hurt his angel to keep their grubby paws to themselves.
This future world was fucked up as it was, he didn't want to think about Cas getting beat up in it to make it any worse.
~*~
His body tensed before Dean had even stepped into his cabin, it was like he could feel him approaching. Which was strange because it was a very long time since he'd felt anything near that leave of connection with the man. He was tense only for a moment before allowing himself to sink deep into his drug addled mind and hide there till what ever was coming was over and he could spend the next week so stoned all he could do was giggle and fuck away the pain.
He wondered briefly if he should find a gay guy and fuck him so hard and loud Dean would be sure to hear.... it was a thought he'd entertained over and over again in the last three years, but he'd never acted on it. Truth was... he couldn't bring himself to be with another guy. Dean was the only man he ever wanted that way, and he couldn't wrap his mind around fucking a guy just for the sex. What he'd shared with Dean had been so much more than that, it had never been about the sex itself even if it had been mind blowing. It had always been about love.
Castiel furrowed his brows when Dean entered, something was wrong, different, he couldn't feel the anger flowing off him in waves, instead he thought he sensed... what? Confusion, worry... he must be more fucking high than he thought. And since when did Dean call him Castiel any more? And WHY in the name of all thats fucking holy, was he sitting on the bed beside Cas' stretched out and almost completely naked body. All he had on was a pair of cotton briefs, they had once been white, but were gray and worn now. Not like he could just go down to the local walmart and buy some more... and his angel hoodoo was long gone, so he just dealt with what he had. Not like he really gave a fuck anyway.
He could feel Dean's eyes on him, studying his back as he lay face down in the pillow breathing softly. He still hadn't moved, he was waiting for the shoe to drop, for Dean' to let rip with what ever it was he felt was his fault this time. Hell sometimes there wasn't even a reason, he just simply ran out of croats to kill or Demon's to torture. It wasn't until he heard Dean's next words that he grunted in shock and annoyed disbelief. Was Dean seriously going to do this to him after years of nothing but hatred and abuse. Come around calling him baby and acting like he had no idea who had hurt him...
"Fuck you Dean, you know exactly who did this to me, and don't you dare call me baby. I am NOT your anything any more and you know it" he growled out into the pillow. He was fucking PISSED. He could handle the anger, he could handle the abuse but he could not handle kindness. Especially not this fucked up shit Dean seemed to be spitting out. Maybe the man had finally lost his mind.... Cas wouldn't have been surprised really.
He finally rose his head from the pillow and rolled onto his side to stare at Dean, revealing a large purple bruise across his ribs from the last time he'd seen Dean. Needless to say, Dean had been pretty fucking pissed of that night. Not that Cas knew what about.
Anger and pain flitted across Cas' face for a moment before he hide it and looked up at Dean unemotionally for all of about five seconds before his eye's widened and he jumped off the bed suddenly. Shock running through him as he stood and blinked at Dean suddenly feeling a little dizzy.
"Whoa... strange..." he said suddenly, as he continued to blink at Dean. "You...are not you -- Not "now" you, anyway" he continued as a shock wave ran over Cas and he hurriedly asked "What year are you from?"
It explained the weird feeling he had gotten when Dean, this Dean had entered. It was a seriously fucked up situation if you ask him. He didn't know whether to laugh his head off or fall to the ground and sob. The last fucking thing he needed right now was two Dean's, especially when this one seemed to be from a time where he still gave a crap about Castiel. "Who did this to you? Was it Zachariah?" he asked still curious even as he started to shut himself off again the way he had learnt to do whenever he got too close to Dean these days. His mind flying to the weed he had tucked into a pair of socks in his draw. He thought momentarily of going to grab it, thinking it would be much better for him to be nicely toasted for this particular conversation. He however, couldn't take his eyes off Deans right now. This Dean's eye's were so different, open, still alive, still held the ability to love. And it almost broke Cas all over again to see those eyes looking at him with love in them once again.
In that moment he wasn't sure who he hated more, this Dean, his Dean or fucking Zachariah for bring this on him....
~*~
Dean flinched as though Castiel's words were physical blows. "Cas!" he said, obvious hurt in his voice. He had never heard Castiel sound so angry or so empty before, and it cut him right down to his soul to hear his voice so twisted with pain. He instinctively reached out a hand to comfort Cas, and pulled it back sharply, not wanting another harsh outburst. He knew it wasn't aimed at him... well, it was, it was aimed at him in the future, but it killed him all the same. Castiel's face was different... not stoic and carven like he was used to seeing it (save for when they were in bed, and it was all slack-jawed ecstacy) but looser, like it had been loosened artificially. He was clearly not taking care of himself, his eyes... oh God, his eyes looked like the eyes of a broken doll - hollow, lifeless and eerie. Dean looked into those eyes until he couldn't bear to look at the anger smouldering within them beneath the emptiness, and looked down at his body for something else to focus on.
His eyes fell on the livid bruise on the angel's chest, and Dean all but jumped off the bed and took a few steps back. He... he couldn't have. Between Castiel's words and his battered body telling the tale, Dean knew on the spot who had done this to him. He had. Future he had, anyway. Dean wanted to throw up. He tried to rationalise it in his mind - maybe Cas had done something wrong... but no, Dean knew he would never beat someone like this for any reason unless they were an evil supernatural being, and he especially knew that nothing Cas could ever do would force him to raise a hand against him in anger. But a small part of his mind that was not his friend told him, Your future self did this to the one man you have ever loved. Look what has become of your precious Castiel.
Dean wanted to sob. How... How! It was the only question rolling around his mind. How could he have done this to Cas, no matter what the provocation? How come they weren't together any more? How had his mind become so fucked up over five years that he kicked the shit out of the man he loved?
"What did I do to you" he whispered tearfully. He didn't want to accept this future. His angel... his wonderful angel was degenerated into this. It was like the angel had flown the coop and left a damaged, heartless junkie in his vessel. "Cas, this isn't you..." Dean said, protesting the change even though he knew that the angel wouldn't magically drop the persona and tell him it was an elaborate ruse. He wished he would. Anything would be better than this right now. Anything!
He tried to recover himself when Cas jumped off the bed. The angel seemed to sway on his feet for a moment, and Dean had to fight the instinct to reach out and steady him. "No! yeah. Yes, exactly. I'm me from 2009. And yeah, it was Zachariah. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on, why you seem to be high as a kite, and then strap your angel wings on and fly me back to my page on the calendar?" He wanted out of this world. He had seen enough. He was still never going to say yes to Michael, but he wanted to get the hell out of the future and go back home, back when Cas looked at him with love, and not like someone was squeezing his heart.
~*~
Castiel let out a loud snort and laughed as he turned from Dean for a moment, a cold ironic grin spreading across his face and making him look somewhat deranged. His body shook with cold laughter that had nothing to do with joy or finding anything funny. It was an outlet for all the bullshit that was going on right now. All the crap he wanted to say to Dean... no not say, fucking scream at him. He wanted to tear him down and keep on kicking until he was as bruised and broken as he was. He wanted to destroy him the way he had destroyed Cas. He knew it wasn't logical, that breaking this version of Dean wouldn't change what his Dean had done to him. Oh how he wanted to do it though.... finally a chance to show Dean just how much it hurt, just how fucked up he was now because of him. His Dean, he knew, wouldn't give a fuck no matter what Cas said or did to him. He didn't care enough anymore to even blink...
... But this Dean... this one still cared, still loved Cas. Hell the man was almost crying by the sounds of his voice and Cas knew just what it took for Dean Winchester to cry. An evil, dead voice inside him found a sick pleasure in Dean's pain and he turned back to him and smiled widely at him and held out his arms. "What do you think you did lover!" he said cheerfully as he turned slowly in a circle for Dean to see all his injuries clearly. "Welcome to your future Angel" and the venom and sarcasm that laced his voice as he used his own pet name for Dean showed just how far from fucked up he had gotten in the past five years.
"It's all me up in here buddy! 100% pure fucked up Cas..." he snorted as he laughed again cruelly. "Whatcha reckon? An improvement?" he knew he was being fucking horrible but all he could do was smile coldly at the though and took pleasure in his words. Finally able to get some back, even if it wasn't directed at the person who deserved them. In his mind it was good enough.
He turned from Dean again at the mention of his strapping on his wings and he laughed so hard it almost made him cough. Oh wouldn't that be nice, 'strapping on his wings' just like that. Like it was that fucking easy. He snorted and slowly turned back around and shook his head. "I wish i could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry -- no dice" He chuckled then still staring at Dean coolly and faltering for a moment at the pain in Dean's eyes. He was too far gone for it to do much more than give him a moments pause though. There was to much pain and bitter anger for him to care enough to stop his bullshit. He wanted to hurt Dean remember, wanted to break his heart. So he should be happy the man looked so close to collapsing in pain. And this thought brought a sick smile to his eyes as he studied Dean in a way he hadn't done for years.
"Well isn't this just fucking peachy Dean! How are you anyway, hows the weather? How's Sam? He found out he's Lucifer's man suit yet? Hoo boy was that a fun time. And you just not even listening to him when he said he needed you... Dear me Dean, how the might fall don't they!" he said in a stupidly cheerful conversational manner and grinned as he went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Absinthe. "You want some?" he asked with every pretense of hospitality, as though he hadn't just been trying to tear the man to pieces emotionally. And he grinned again as he took a long swig from the bottle and hoped the wonderful buzz of the drug/drink would kick in soon before he completely fell to pieces like he was threatening to do right now.
FUCK Dean he though viciously as he let out a low growl as his brow frowned again and his eyes went from crazy, sick, smiles to blank and devoid again.
~*~
TBC
Chapter Two up soon folks. Let me know what you think so far.