Castiel used to belong to a much better club (straponmywings) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-06-30 13:20:00 |
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Seeing glimpses of his wings lately had been weighing heavily on Cas. He hadn’t seen them like he normally would have when he was an angel, just glimpses. Sometimes when he would pass a mirror or stand at an angle that showed him his own shadow. Just glimpses, images that caught him off-guard and were gone when he looked back or tried to look at them straight on. He had seen enough of them to know that they looked terrible - bones were showing through the feathers which were drooping, and they looked like they sat wrong on his back. Maybe at an angle? It was strange, and he couldn’t account for it, couldn’t reason why he was seeing this now. His wings and his powers had been gone for years, he’d long ago lost the ability to see his wings or to even cause a tiny spark when he rubbed his fingers together. The host had gone away and taken their powers, everything that made him special and left just the hollow shell of him behind. For a little while he had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would get something back, that Lucifer’s presence on earth would somehow help, but all that had done was - essentially- keep his senses sharp. Keep his strength nearly intact. Nothing really. So this, seeing wings, had to be a hallucination. It had to be something he was doing to himself, and he couldn’t figure out why. He had all but completely been avoiding Sam and Dean in the bunker. DJ was a child, however, and as children tend to do what they want, he had often found himself with a lapful of a three-year-old Sam’s clone watching Spongebob or whatever cartoon was on that struck the toddler's fancy. He had big plans for his weekend off though. Two full days of doing nothing with his door locked, sleeping, getting high, watching bad TV. Friday night after he got off of work he stood outside and smoked a couple of joints (tolerance was super high) and dragged himself inside. Relaxed, feeling floaty and good, and loving it. He barely noticed that when he kicked his door shut it didn’t click or lock, and he flopped down on the bed and uncapped one of the bottles from the case of beers he had brought from the refrigerator. After about four he forced his eyelids to open up, every intention of getting up and turning the tv on, but when his eyes opened the first thing he saw was his wings. Not just a glimpse, not a shadow, full-on, curling around him, black but sparse, wings. And then they were gone. Just like that. He couldn’t see or feel them, it was just like he had never seen them or felt them. Just gone. Why was he punishing himself? He laid on his back and pulled a pillow over his face, questioning himself. Was it withdrawals? He hadn’t been taking as much of anything as he normally did, just enough to take the edge off. To make him feel distant from everything. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Either way, it always left him talking to Dean, from his world, in his mind. It was easier to talk to Dean, someone he knew existed and in his own strange way maybe cared a little about him as opposed to a father God who had abandoned and ignored them for - forever. DEAN! I wish you would talk back to me JUST ONCE. I know you can’t hear me, and I’m aware that if you talked back that would mean I’ve lost my shit, but - Cas trailed off, grabbing another beer blindly. Dean had no idea what was going on with Cas, but he had noticed the shift in his mood recently. He seemed to be much more quiet than usual, maybe even a little withdrawn. He wondered if maybe it had anything to do with getting a second chance when his Dean hadn’t. That was never an easy thing to deal with. Getting to live while others you loved died, unable to escape their fate. Especially when you didn’t think you even deserved it. Maybe he should have asked Castiel how he was doing, but he didn’t do emotions. Besides, what the fuck would he even say? He was in the kitchen and making himself a sandwich while Cas was locked away in his room, same with Sam and DJ, and Mrs. B was taking some for herself. Dean had just sliced his sandwich in half when he heard Cas shouting. “What the hell, Cas?!” He shouted in return, not realizing he had heard the voice in his head. He stepped out of the kitchen with his sandwich in hand when he realized there was no possible way that the other could have been that loud at such a distance. Brows furrowed, he took a bite of his sandwich and made his way back to his room. He noticed that the door to Cas’ room was open and he stopped off there first. “Hey,” he knocked at the door and slowly eased it open. “You didn’t just yell for me, right? I mean, your voice was pretty loud, but I’m not sure if it’s all in my head. Maybe I’m just going crazy.” There was a pause before he laughed in amusement. “What the fuck am I talking about? I've been riding the crazy train for years now.” Cas hadn’t expected to hear Dean’s voice at all in return and for a second he was stunned into silence that his thoughts had somehow reached Dean in another world, maybe even in the afterlife. And then he noticed the light from the hallway slanting across his face from his open door where Dean - the other Dean - stood shadowed. Had to be the weed, he hadn’t had enough beer yet. With a sigh, he sat himself up against the wall, careful not to spill the open beer in his hand. “I wasn’t - I was calling to Dean, the other one, I’m sorry you heard it. I need to designate who I’m thinking about when I think to one of you.” He turned his bedside lamp on so that they could see better and he set his beer down on the nightstand as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and started to toe out of his sandals but paused. How had Dean even heard that? Cas knew that it was just a thought, he had heard himself give an annoyed huff as he was thinking. “Was it in your head? I - it had to be, I haven’t spoken a word in hours, not until you opened my door a minute ago.” "Oh, okay then, cool," he nodded his head and turned to head back to his room, taking a second to make the connection. "Wait, hold up, what the hell do you mean, think to me?" The other Dean was likely dead and gone at this point, so why was Cas even trying to talk to him? Was he feeling lonely? "Dude, no, of course it wasn't-" he began to answer, only to realize that yes, it had been in his head. "Okay, but, how would your thoughts get into my head?" Instead of walking away, he moved further into the room and even took a seat on the bed. "You want half of my sandwich?" He could always make another one, and Cas probably hadn't eaten much. “I don’t know. Are you reading minds now?” Cas was a little surprised when Dean actually came in and then sat down on the bed, and he looked over at him while he tried to clear his head for conversation or whatever was going on between their heads at the moment. Because something clearly was and they should probably figure out what that was. “No thanks, I had -.” he paused. Cas realized almost immediately when Dean offered him part of his sandwich that he should be starving, he hadn’t eaten anything in a few days, a spoon of peanut butter he’d grabbed on his way to work, but he wasn’t really hungry. At least he hadn’t been until he thought about it. “I ate earlier.” A few days earlier. It wasn’t technically a lie, and he was sure Dean already thought he was weird, so he didn’t want to further that thought by adding whatever that was to it. “Have you been feeling okay?” "Yeah, I forgot to mention it. I totally started reading minds yesterday. Right now you're thinking to yourself that I look-" no, he wasn't going down that road. "You're thinking about making a bacon cheeseburger, but you don't want to leave your room so you want me to do it." He didn't necessarily believe that Cas had eaten recently, but the other was a grown man and he wasn't here to dispute anything. "I'm fine, Cas. Do I look like I'm not?" He turned to glance at the mirror on the wall and he didn't really see anything to be concerned about. Other than the mayonnaise at the corner of his mouth, which he then used his sleeve to wipe it off. "If you're fine, I can fuck off back to my room." Dean knew that something was wrong, but he wasn't going to sit there trying to pry his way in. Cas laughed. “As much as I enjoy your cheeseburgers, I wasn’t thinking about them. I’m not sure I was thinking about food at all.” It was weird, turning down a burger. And it wasn’t like Cas was starving himself, he wasn’t at all, it was - he hadn’t felt any hunger pangs or had any cravings, and even the sandwich Dean was eating right now wasn’t stirring any of that. “I was just making conversation,” Cas shrugged. “You’re sitting here and it seemed like the thing to ask.” He followed Dean’s gaze to the mirror and watched him wipe the smudge of mayo from his face. He could sense that whatever had just happened had interrupted whatever plans Dean had for the rest of the night, and he wasn’t going to pour his heart out and try to keep him there when Dean wanted to go back to his room. “Cool beans, you go,” he slipped his shoes back on and reached down to pull the straps back over his heels. “I’m good, you’re good, whatever happened - I dunno, maybe you’re picking up something from Dean or - I dunno. I’m gonna head outside and smoke a little more and then get some sleep.” "It wasn't another Dean. It was your voice, and you said my name. It was clear as day, somehow, despite you being so far away and with your door closed." Was it a ghost, maybe? Or, something that could mimic voices? He remained on the bed, continuing to eat his sandwich and clearly not about to move just yet. "Are you, though? Are you really good, Cas?" He knew that Cas had been out front smoking for a bit already, and now he was going back for more? Not to mention the multiple empty beer bottles in the room. He watched the other prepare to head outside and it was clear that Castiel was running from something. “I was yelling at Dean,” he shook his head and looked at his toes, giving a small laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t hear the whole thing. Sometimes I do that. Tell him that I miss him. Tell him off. I mean, he’s not here to hear it, and someone I work with told me that talking to him might be healthy, but most of the time I just curse at him. In my head, never out loud, just in my head. Unless you’re becoming an angel and hearing my prayers, there’s no way that I can explain you having heard me yell at you.” That was mostly coherent at least. Maybe. Cas wasn’t even sure how much any of that mattered except what he had said at the end. When he saw that Dean made no attempt to move or go to his space, Cas gave him another few seconds before he stood and shut the door. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted Mrs. B not to be listening for something to use something against him. She already didn’t enjoy him as it was because she didn’t trust him, all she needed to hear was what he was going to say. “My wings,” he said in a hushed tone, leaning against the door. “Singed, short and sparse - really sparse - but shiny and blue-black - i keep seeing them. I thought I was - anyway, tonight I felt them. For a split second, I felt them.” "Becoming an angel? Is that even possible?" Dean considered it for a second and then quickly brushed it off. "Nah, I don't think that's it." He took another bite of his sandwich and looked at the other curiously. "Why do you curse at him? It's not his fault that the world there went to shit when that fucking son of a bitch just sat there watching it all unfold." He growled, remembering how Chuck had been there and hadn't stepped in to fix any of it. When Castiel mentioned his wings, it was definitely not something he had been expecting to hear. "I thought you said you didn't have wings anymore? That they were gone?" Although, with all of the magic surrounding the city of Vallo, it didn't seem that impossible for something like this to happen. "Maybe they are like your training wings? You know, how like you ride a bike with training wheels so you don't fall off?" What the fuck was he trying to say? "I mean, it's not impossible for them to come back. Right?" “It wasn’t his fault, no, but it was his fault what he became. As much as it was my fault what I became. But it feels like the more time I spend sober here, the more I realize that he was - he used me. Didn’t care about me at all. I should have died like the rest of my team, that was supposed to be it for me, but Dean, would you send someone you care about running into their death like it was nothing?” Castiel snorted a small laugh and nodded at Dean, they very well could be new wings, all the magic in this place - hell, the place itself was magical - it stood to reason that maybe his wings were returning and he hadn’t really considered that possibility. A new fear gripped him and he ran his hands through his hair and his head banged once against the door. “I guess it’s not impossible, I don’t know - I think my situation was unique. But - but I don’t want them back. I don’t want them back.” He hadn't been expecting the conversation to take such a turn and he set his plate down on the bed, his full attention on Cas. "I think it's a little more complicated than that." Yes, he had been surprised and outraged when he had realized that he sent Cas and the others off to slaughter. "I think it was more of a situation where he felt like he had no other choice." They might have been talking about another Dean, but he didn't think any version of himself wouldn't have cared about Cas. "I've been through a lot of shit and the one constant was always you." He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before finally answering the question. "No, I would have never sent you off as a sacrificial lamb." He was a little surprised at the other man's reaction and he didn't know what to say. Getting back his wings seemed like it would be a good thing. "Unfortunately, if Vallo magic is helping your wings to grow, I don't think you can do anything about it. But, hey, on the bright side, you won't need to take public transportation anymore." “Nobody knows you better than you, but you weren’t there except for a few days at the end. Revenge consumed him. He didn’t care about anyone or anything, except revenge, and he did everything he could to get it. I’m not saying he was a bad person, and I know the circumstance we were in was definitely a big part of it, you are evidence of that, I’m just saying that he was lost. And I followed him. That’s all.” Cas looked up and gave Dean a smile when he answered his question, their differences were so clear it was sometimes stunning. How Dean here seemed to go through everything that he did and still turn out to be - him, and his Dean was taken down by a single blow. A bad blow, but - Cas had no room to talk. He had seen what he could have been and it hurt his heart to know that he hadn’t allowed himself to sink. He knew that Dean wouldn’t be expecting to hear that he didn’t want his wings back though so many things could be different. Many times he had thought about it before and eventually he had decided that his powers were gone because he wasn’t the angel he was made to be. He never used his powers the way heaven wanted him to, so they were taken away. It was a huge deal to him, it was his entire being for billions of years. “I don’t deserve to be an angel. Look at me, I was a crap angel, and I’m a crap person. This isn’t happening to me as a reward for good behavior, it’s happening by default. Because I was brought here. Not because I deserve it. But maybe - maybe I don’t know. Maybe we’re wrong and I’m just going crazier.” Cas pushed off the door without giving Dean much time to respond to what he just said and put his hand on the knob. “That cheeseburger does sound pretty good now, if you still feel like making them?” "I don't think it was revenge, Cas. More like he was desperate to clean up the mess he made. But, you're right, I think he was just lost without Sam, I guess. I'm not sure. Like you said, I wasn't there for the entirety of it." Dean shrugged it off with a sigh, feeling a little guilty that his outcome had turned out to be much better. "Cas? Are you seriously going to say you were a crap angel when you were the only one who didn't want to start the apocalypse? Plus, not to mention the fact that many of the angels were more than okay with committing murder. But, sure, yeah, total crap angel." He rolled his eyes dramatically and moved to stand from the bed. "For you, the kitchen is always open." He grabbed the rest of his sandwich and made his way towards the kitchen. "I'll put the rest of this sandwich in the fridge for another day and make myself a burger while I'm at it." |