Feb 18, 2022
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Making a reference for Cato’s eyes to procrastinate making a reference for his entire body
[Image: a digitally drawn close up on one of Cato’s eyes. He has grey skin and long white lashes, exaggerated and stylised in white eyeliner. His iris is a pale, bright blue, very faintly clouded in sharp swirls, with a darker ring around the edge, a round, blue pupil, and a very faint sunflower effect. His eyebrow is neat, white and arched, and his energy is ethereal and cold. End ID.]
15.3 CODA
Dean stares at the bunker door, refusing to blink. Cas will come back. He just has to wait. Any second now. Cas will get a new wave of energy and come storming in. They’ll yell at each other. Hurt each other some more. Then Cas will go to his room, in the bunker, where he belongs, and Dean will get wasted and crash on the couch.
Dean just has to wait. Once Cas comes back, they’ll finish it. They’ll go through the rest of their routine.
Except, Cas doesn’t come back.
Not after Dean blinks. Not after Dean realizes he’s crying. Not after Dean chugs the whiskey in his glass. Not after Dean fills that glass twice more.
Certainly not after Dean throws the glass at the wall, the chaos of the crash sounding painfully similar to what’s happening in his chest.
He pulls out his phone and calls Cas with shaking hands. His phone rings from across the room. When Dean slowly approaches the thing, as if it’s a bomb about to go off, as if things aren’t already beyond fucked up, as if Dean isn’t already destroyed, Dean finds a neat little pile of things that Castiel left behind.
The cell phone Dean bought him, with the two of them in their cowboy hats as the lock screen photo.
The mixtape Dean made him.
The spare key to the bunker.
The faded old Led Zeppelin t-shirt of Dean’s that they both pretended he didn’t steal.
The copy of Slaughterhouse-Five Dean gave him.
The cowboy hat from their trip to Dodge City.
Dean collapses down at the table with the near-empty bottle of whiskey. As he sips on it, staring off at nothing, Dean replays the conversation. Well, maybe conversation isn’t the right word, considering he barely said anything. It’s more of what Dean didn’t say that matters.
Dean doesn’t trust him. Castiel was right about that.
But… they’ve lost trust in each other before. Multiple times. The two of them can be fucking idiots. They’re great at ignoring things, or keeping secrets. Great at hurting each other.
So, yeah. Dean doesn’t trust him. But Castiel is supposed to wait. He’s supposed to just sulk and take it. Keep apologizing until Dean forgives him. That’s what he did before. That’s all he did in purgatory. Constantly apologizing. It’s what Dean did after the whole mark of cain/demon shit show. He always made sure Castiel knew he didn’t mean the things that had happened, and that he was so sorry.
They get pissed at each other. They fight. They give the silent treatment. But they love each other, and that’s supposed to be enough. It’s always been enough.
Why wasn’t it enough?
Dean takes a long pull of whiskey and slowly swallows it, allowing the liquid to burn him something fierce as it trickles down his throat.
His powers are draining… but when aren’t they? Castiel’s powers have been draining since he rebelled against heaven for Dean. It’s not like he’s falling.
He’s not falling, right?
He can’t be falling.
Dean closes his eyes, his body starting to tremble. Castiel is right, Dean hasn’t even been able to look at him. He hasn’t been paying attention. Dean has no fucking idea if Castiel is falling. When Dean asked him if he was okay outside the impala the other day, Castiel had said, “Yes, but-” and Dean had walked away.
He had walked away!
What if Castiel was going to tell him he could feel himself falling. For real this time, like when he did after the angels fell. Not just low grace, weak powers, and a body that needs to rest more than it should, but falling completely. Becoming human.
And Dean rolled his eyes at him.
Dean let him walk away.
Dean let Castiel believe he was truly dead to him.
Dean let him leave with the intention of moving on.
Moving on? Fucking moving on?
What did Dean do?
What did he do?
What the fuck did he just do?
----
Castiel lifts a shaking hand to the center of the door and tentatively knocks, feeling terrible that it’s so late at night. He only had fourteen dollars in his wallet, which was enough to buy gas for this short trip, but not enough for food or a hotel. This is the only other family - well, not his family, but the Winchester’s family - that Castiel has left. It’s only right he says goodbye to them before leaving for good. He knows it’s awful he didn’t talk to Sam before disappearing, but Sam had enough pain today. Castiel will call him from the road.
The porch light coming on pulls Castiel out of his thoughts. He steps back just as the front door is opened, giving Jody a wobbly smile. She tilts her head and gives him a smile of her own. It’s genuine, and warm, and makes Castiel want to curl up and cry.
“Castiel. Hey. Are the boys,” she stops herself, looking over his shoulder before back at him. He can feel her eyes as they rake over him. The sheriff in her must figure the situation out real quick, because her eyes turn sad and she reaches out for Castiel’s hand, pulling him inside. “You look like you could use something to drink. Do you want a beer? Maybe some whiskey? I think Donna has a bottle of vodka in the freezer.”
Slowly settling on the stool Jody gestures to, Castiel shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
“Maybe some tea?” Jody presses.
“Yes. Tea sounds lovely,” Castiel says quietly, not wanting to be rude. “Thank you, Jody.”
“Peppermint? Chamomile?”
Having no idea in the slightest, considering all Dean drinks is coffee, Castiel says on a whim, “Peppermint, please. Thank you, Jody.”
“Of course, Castiel.” She sets a teapot on the stove, then pulls out a mug and a box of peppermint tea. As the water heats over a gas flame, she turns back to Castiel. He slumps down and clenches his hands together where they rest on the breakfast bar’s countertop. It unfortunately does not make him feel any less vulnerable or inspected. “Are you feeling alright, Castiel?”
“I’m fine,” Castiel replies, hearing Dean’s voice like he’s saying the words for him. It makes him suddenly angry. “Actually, I’m quite exhausted. And hungry. And it’s just been a very long few days. I miss Jack, so much. And I miss Mary. But I don’t think I’m allowed to miss Mary because, well, you know. It’s my fault and all. But I still miss-”
“Castiel, I’m sorry for interrupting, but Mary was not your fault.”
“I’m pretty sure she was.”
“That’s not the story I got from Sam. I know Dean has been taking it out on you, Sam’s been worried. He wasn’t sure if he should step in. But he made it very clear to me that he does not believe his mother’s death is on you. And after he explained everything, I agree with him. Castiel, you wanted to assume the best of your son. That’s what you are supposed to do as a parent. It backfired, yes, but that’s life, Castiel. That’s just how life goes.”
Castiel swallows around a lump in his throat and closes his eyes to stop them from burning. He drops his head, trying to breathe.
The room stays quiet until the silence is interrupted by the whistling tea pot. A minute later, a steaming cup of peppermint tea is placed in front of his clasped hands. Castiel stares at it like he doesn’t recognize it.
“Did Dean kick you out, Castiel?” Jody asks softly.
“He-” Castiel stops when his voice cracks. He clears his throat twice before trying again. “No, he didn’t. But I didn’t belong there. Or I wasn’t wanted there. Or both. It was time I leave. I’m going to - well, I’m hoping to move on.”
When Jody says nothing, Castiel peeks up at her. She looks devastated. “He’s an idiot. You know that, right?”
“No. No, Dean Winchester isn’t an idiot.” Castiel shakes his head, a corner of his mouth perking up. He releases a shaky, self-deprecating laugh under his breath. “Dean Winchester is the best thing to ever happen to me, and I ruined it.”
“Castiel-”
Castiel stares down at his tea, waiting for Jody to continue. She doesn’t. He can’t blame her. What’s there to say? It’s true. His world is crumbling as they speak, and it’s all of Castiel’s fault.
The worst part, though? He can’t even regret it. Any of it. He’d rebel again. Fall in love again. He’d take all of the pain and sadness. All of the pleasure. Every kiss. Every hug. Every hand held beneath the diner table. Every laugh. Every fight. He’d do it all again, happily, because for a while there, Dean Winchester showed him what true heaven was like.
“I’m going to go make up the spare bedroom. You just drink your tea, okay?” Jody asks in the mom voice he’s heard her use with the boys, and Claire and Alex, before.
“I can find somewhere else if-”
“Nonsense. You’re family, Castiel. You will sleep here. Claire will be happy to see you in the morning.”
Castiel takes a sip of his tea, wondering if that’s true. Can he still be family if he’s not with Dean? He always thought he was just included because Dean said so. Is Castiel really loved and cared for by these people, even if Dean doesn’t want them to? Would Claire really be happy to see him? The angel that killed her father?
She did keep the grumpy cat stuffed animal after all…
Jody returns just as Castiel is finishing his tea. She guides him down the hall, showing him the bathroom where he’s welcome to shower if he’d like, then the bedroom. After a final look laced with concern, Jody gives him a quick hug and wishes him goodnight, closing Castiel’s door as she leaves.
Castiel stares at the bed for a minute, the weight of the last few days sinking in. He drags his feet across the room, stripping as he goes. The last thing he does is kick off his shoes right before collapsing onto the mattress in nothing but his boxers and undershirt. He barely has the energy to move around and get under the covers, but it’s so worth it. His entire body relaxes as the warmth encases him.
As the mounting exhaustion begins to pull the falling angel into dreamland, the last thing he thinks about is Dean.
Castiel hopes the man sleeps well tonight. He deserves to get some rest.
----
Dean answers his phone with slow, uncooperative fingers. “Hey, Jody.”
“Dean Winchester, sometimes you are such an idiot that I want to smack you upside the head!”
“Wow,” Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand against his eyes. “You’re welcome for savin’ the world ‘n all.”
“And you’re drunk, too. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”
“Jody, you need somethin’, or jus’ callin’ to make me feel’ike shit?”
He hears a deep sigh and rolls his eyes. Dean’s not in the mood for her to play mom right now.
Dean has a mom.
Had a mom.
Just like he had Cas.
Now he’s lost them both.
He’s lost Jack.
Rowena.
Ketch.
“I just called to let you know that Castiel is safe. He’s here.”
Dean sits up straight, knocking over the empty bottle of whiskey. He ignores it as it crashes to the floor. “He’s there? At your house?”
“Yes. I gave him some tea to help calm him a bit and put him in the spare bedroom. I know angels don’t sleep, but… well, he’s sleeping. Dead to the world already.”
You’re dead to me.
Dead to me.
I’m dead to you.
You don’t care. I’m dead to you.
My powers are failing.
You don’t care.
My powers are failing.
I’m dead to you.
I know angels don’t sleep.
Dean feels sick to his stomach, whiskey flavored acid crawling up his throat. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let him leave.”
“No, Dean. Go sleep the booze off.”
“I need to be with him.”
“I’m not sure he needs to be with you, though.” Dean flinches like he’s just been slapped. Honestly, it feels like he has been.
But is she wrong?
Probably not…
“Will you just - just don’t let him go disappearing, okay? Take care of him, please.”
There’s a long pause. Then, “Get some rest, Dean. He’ll be fine without you.”
Jody hangs up without saying anything else, leaving Dean alone on the other end. He tosses the phone onto the table and buries his face in his hands. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Castiel will be fine without him. Hell, maybe Castiel will be better off without him. Dean should really just leave him alone.
Dean eventually drags himself to his room, collapsing on the bed. The whiskey and exhaustion do their job, pulling him under in no time. Just before slipping into dreamland, the last thing he thinks about is Castiel.
Dean hopes the angel sleeps well tonight. He deserves to get some rest.
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I volunteer to hug Sam and get him through this.
Okay I’m going to jump on this destiel break-up thing
I think a lot of Dean’s anger is justifiable. Even I sometimes get frustrated with just how often Cas does not communicate. He is grieving, and he hasn’t had any time to really process things. He probably shouldn’t have said what he said, but it was in a heated moment of defensiveness and anger.
I think a lot of where Cas is coming from is justifiable. He had a short window of a family - the family he wanted, however misfit - and he feels like he has literally lost it all. He is also grieving, and he’s had less time than Dean to process. He kept trying to reach out, but once again, he’s a bit too late. So, he once again leaves.
Look, ain’t none of that is what I’m mad at. I’m furious that this is obviously a set up for a “getting back together” journey, hopefully one that lets them have a happy ending - BUT IT’S JUST MORE QUEERBAITING.
And maybe that’s dramatic of me! I’ll own that! But the MOST of what we’re going to get after ALL of that is some heart-to-heart scene that will lead to nothing, all the while directors ONCE AGAIN instructing them to look at each other like lovers.
I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I’m glad the show’s ending. I’m exhausted of this shit.
how dare they cut the scene where misha collins sings. how. dare. they.
i hate this! i hate how civil everyone is being i hate the taylor has moral issues with what’s happening i hate how careful she is not to hurt any of these fucking neo-nazis
like everyone just forgot that one of their leaders joined the slaughterhouse nine
and one of their costumes was literally described by comparing it to a swastika
fuck this
You are not growing on anyone. Sam and Dean are just using you. Don't mistake that for caring about you, because I can assure you they don't.