[ patience pays off, dean! you've got a room all to yourself now, it was totally worth it. cas grins, because it feels good, seeing dean let loose a little, get a little more.. comfortable. it was a difficult transition, given what they came from, but soon enough dean will find his equilibrium.
having his own space here will definitely help. ]
Mm. Must've been hard for you. I know how much you love stuff.
[ Dean isn't gonna lie, the idea of his own space holds a certain distinct comfort to it. While it's followed closely by the urge to push everyone else away and hide out for as long as he can, it's at least something he feels like he can keep under his own control. And that is a privilege. ]
Need it about as much as heartburn- you gonna sit?
[ Reaching over and moving everything up onto the bedside table, Dean looks back, no pressure hidden behind his gaze. For the most part, he's figuring Cas will wave him off or leave him to it, he doesn't know. But the offer's there. ]
[ leaving him to it is definitely an option, but he's already here, made the effort to come say hi, so he may as well hang around for a hot minute. dean might be a prickly son of a bitch, but he's still cas's best friend, and he doesn't mind the thorns. they're kind of.. symbiotic. you know, like a clownfish and an anemone.
so he shoves off the wall and pads on over to the bed, lazy and boneless as he drops down to sit on the edge of it, one foot tucked up beneath the opposite leg. ]
[ Dean watches quietly as Cas makes his way over and settles in, then quickly earns himself a question he doesn't really want to face. Because it should be a simple one at this point, something he can take and have an easy answer to, but he doesn't as much as he knows he should.
And he feels bad about it. Guilty that he isn't by far more stitched up and put in his place. Better adjusted, maybe, more willing to take on a new environment and let it heal things he's not entirely sure can be fixed.
He opens his mouth to say something and ends up hesitating for twice as long, scrubbing at his face with his hands instead before he's willing to try again. ]
[ dean's not a great talker. cas knows that. everyone knows that. it's impossible not to know that.
.. but it's been weeks now, and cas hasn't said a word. he's kept his distance, hasn't asked any of the questions that are churning in his gut and nagging at his seams, questions about home that he desperately needs closure with, things he's been in the dark about since the first moment he arrived here.
so he's been considerate. and honestly, if dean is too disturbed by it, he'll continue to be considerate, but he's got to try, and they trust one another; cas knows when he needs to push. he tangles his fingers loosely in his lap, and glances toward dean's profile with a hooded, measured stare. ]
[ Dean's well aware that Cas has been considerate to a fault, that he had every reason to push by far sooner than he's even attempted. Providing answers Cas needs has been imminent from the get go and Dean, if anything, has been waiting for it, those looming things that require closure that he's not entirely sure how to give. But if he's to be any semblance of fair, he has to find a way to do it lest he spontaneously combust in his own right. Cas deserves them, after all. He always does.
That doesn't make it any easier.
He's fairly sure he knows what's coming, even if he doesn't know for sure, and so he waits. But even this isn't exactly a line of questioning he enjoys; it's not as if any of these facts are particularly hard to find within himself. It's looking for a way to spill them over that's seemingly complicated. ]
I'm working on it.
[ But even that seems a failure, as far as Dean can tell. Working on it has still ended up with foul mistakes, and so he tries again because being honest is a thing he only ever really attempts when Cas is around. ] I should be trying harder. I know.
[ to that, cas simply shrugs. it's not up to him to decide how hard dean tries, how quickly he heals. in many ways, cas has become.. much more malleable than dean; like a sapling, he bends in against the wind, supple but strong, remaining full and whole as he can manage because he allows the storm to beat at him, doesn't fight it. but dean, dean's a gnarled, stubborn old oak. he fights the storm, stands fast against the wind and there is something admirable in that and yet it costs him. things that do not bend more easily break, and dean's leaves have been shorn, his branches cracked and bark eroded.
nevertheless, it's his choice. and while cas might offer plenty of scathing sass when the time is right, this isn't something he's willing or able to take lightly.
so he's quiet for several long moments, simply breathing, existing, before he's leaning his elbows onto his knees. ]
You're going to have to tell me what happened, you know. The last things you remember. Where you were before you were here.
[ It's not yet the question that Dean is truly waiting for, whether or not he's surviving this - that unto itself seems to be a thing that doesn't matter nearly as much as the words he knows are coming. He'll get over himself one day, he thinks, be able to stop fighting against it all quite so viciously. Because where Cas is accommodating and willing, Dean is stubborn and bullheaded, immovable in a way Cas isn't remotely. It's not something he's jealous about, but he truly wishes he was more capable of adapting. And yet he isn't - so be it.
Instead, that is the question he's been waiting for, the one that makes it impossible to breath and infinitely harder to not push away from. Dean wants to put space between himself and what happened and maybe it only contributes to his inability to move past it, an inability to think of nothing but what happened. Still, he doesn't want to have this conversation. Because he doesn't want Cas to know just how badly he failed.
It's not so much an embarrassment as it is a failure and Cas is going to see straight through it in an instant.
Dean almost wants to scramble upright, but he remains still, muscles going tighter with resonating fear. He hasn't even begun to think through what he wants to say, even though he knows he should have, should've been prepared for this. He can only wish he had a script prepared in his mind, staring off to his side and attempting to remain ever the stoic man. ]
How much do you want to know.
[ He's going to crack, he already knows it; he knows. But if he can just put up one more escape, one more second between what he has to say and the moment he falls, then he'll do it. ]
[ cas knows full well what he's asking of dean here, knows it's got to be difficult to discuss, and honestly, dean's demeanor and reaction are really all he needs to really see to get his answer.
they failed. there's no other possibility. if, against all odds, dean had managed to kill lucifer he wouldn't be nearly so reluctant to discuss it, it wouldn't take all of his strength to summon up the gall to actually have this conversation. but that isn't good enough, and sure, dean doesn't want to talk about it, but well, cas needs to hear it. he's got to know what it is that they've left behind. ]
All of it, Dean.
[ he can't help the roughness to his tone, the cool stoniness that's unlike what he has become, because he doesn't want to pussyfoot around here, doesn't want to give dean the opportunity to talk around the subject. hard as it is, he's got to be direct. ]
What you remember last, everything that passed after I..
[ Face slowly dropping into his hands, trying to think, Dean is too crushed to know how to speak for long seconds, as much of a reveal as anything. Because not saying the words is just as wrong as spilling them free, words buzzing frantically in his mind, a furious escapade of all the moments he ruined through endless desires to put all the pain to rest. ]
I fucked it up. [ It's spoken gruffly, the rough notes of a voice torn in two, and Dean can feel himself cracking. Eyes starting to burn behind the heels of his palms, his gives his head a dismal shake, so apologetic he can't even begin to stand it. ]
I lost. Got it wrong. The Colt- it didn't work. Didn't do anything.
[ There it is, something so aching he wants to shout it as much as he doesn't want to say even a single piece. But what's by far more important is how he ruined everything, how it ruined Cas in tandem. He didn't just lose the war, he's convinced he lost Cas in equal measure. He couldn't save either of them, couldn't even make a moment of it worthwhile and it's all his fault. A sacrifice gone to waste, his failure, their deaths. It's all right there, and so he does the only thing he can. ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's not nearly enough and he knows it. It'll never be enough, this isn't the kind of thing he can make up for and he realizes that. He turned their lives into a waste, he broke the world, and he cannot bring it back. He can't save Cas and he can't do a single thing to make his efforts mean what they were meant to. He'd hoped so powerfully and he'd fallen so hard and it all remains utterly useless - he's always been nothing and he always will be, but god, he never meant to sacrifice the life of a man, an angel he always found so important. Especially when he was only ever meant to save the world and couldn't manage to save Cas. ]
[ cas has known dean long enough to know how he's going to react to this, how he's going to feel and guilt and apologies - that's not what cas is looking for, even if that's what dean feels he should give.
it's not that he doesn't appreciate it. he does, and deeply, if only because he knows how terribly difficult it is for dean to apologize for anything, to bring himself to talk about this at all, but the last thing cas wants is for dean to be sorry. what happened.. it's not just on him. it's on cas, too. it's on god and heaven for ever placing them in a situation to begin with, for creating a world full of horror and punishing them for standing up for themselves, and what they believe in.
cas blames himself, too. he always will. the guilt eats him up inside, for failing dean, for failing the world, the entire human race, but he's angry, too, angry and bitter disenchanted with heaven and angels and the god he'd called father. dean? dean just did the best he could with the absolutely shitty hand he was dealt. he tried. ]
It's all right, Dean.
[ he says, softly, genuinely. he knows full well that fancy words won't help, that he could talk until he's blue in the face but dean will still believe whatever he chooses to believe. still, cas can't have him thinking that he blames him at all. ]
We did our damned best. Things were shit. I just, you know.. needed to know.
[ Dean gives his head a shake - for all that he wants to believe in Cas' words, he can't yet. He's spent a good few weeks now stewing in the fact that he managed to fail at the one opportunity the world had hinged on since the fall had begun, an act he so desperately thought would work. It repeats, bitterly, through his mind any given number of times a day, Dean seeing the moment reflected back at him until he can't see anything else. His mind catches on his death occasionally, the moment before it all turned black, but mostly it's the failure. How he let everyone down, thought he had it all figured out when it turns out he'd only ever gotten it all wrong.
Lifting his face, Dean struggles to take a breath, his shoulders falling. He's fairly sure he should still be blamed for this, if only because he was the one who thought he had it all figured out, when he truly had no clue. He'd wanted to believe he had, the final answer that would solve their problem, and he'd relied on it until he'd sent them all to their demise. That's his fault, his failing, and he doesn't know how to let it go. ]
It's not all right, I should've known it was going to go that way. I thought- [ - what? dean doesn't even know what he thought any more, how he could've had as big of a head about it as he did when all he ever does is screw it up- ]
Doesn't matter what I thought, because it was wrong.
[ Dean's not even sure they did their best but at least he can attempt to believe that much. He just can't stand the thought that his failures are the only thing he's left behind in his own home, a world that will only crumble until it's gone altogether.
Staring at the opposing wall until he can't manage the welling tears, he ducks his face, fingers pushing back through his hair. ] I let you down.
[ cas can only shake his head, because arguing blame in a broken world.. there's just no point, no reason. they fought city hall, and they lost, and the fact that they weren't able to pick up all the shattered pieces fast enough - that's not dean's fault. they strove for what they believed in, right to their dying breaths, and while cas knows that it was their decisions that directly led to the end of the world..
.. honestly, he can't say for certain that he wouldn't make the same choices, if given a second chance. how much is it worth, selling out to protect a planet? years ago, he would have easily understood the greater good, the idea that it would be okay to sacrifice half a world's worth of people if it meant saving the other half and ushering in paradise on earth, but now?
ah, dean's rubbed off on him. cas is pretty sure he'd ram himself into that wall over and over again until he broke himself utterly against it, that he'd always fight for the right for every human being to live, no matter the personal cost. their decisions led to something worse than the apocalypse, sure, but cas no longer believes that the ends justify the means. but then, if it meant saving even half of the lives that had been lost..
he could think himself in circles over this for hours. has before. but the point is, he can't blame dean for doing everything in his power to try to shape the world into what he thought was right, for giving everything to protect humanity from a threat that they never could have hoped to overcome. he shakes his head. ]
It was out best shot, and you know it. We both know it. There was no other way, nothing to be done for it. You can't beat yourself up over it forever.
[ Dean is sure that he can, and will, beat himself up for it for it forever. He's positive that given the opportunity he will find his own failure within the actions for as long as he's able to think his way through them and he'll find himself to blame for all the things he couldn't do.
It's simply the way he's wired and has been for too long to count, willing to plop the world onto his shoulders just so he can try to carry the weight for everyone else. He wants nothing more than to be the man that knows how to save everyone else and yet he still doesn't know how to be man that fucks it all up, the one that gets it all wrong at the expense of that same exact world. He doesn't know how to see himself without seeing what he's done wrong and he doesn't know how to deal with a choice that led everyone astray. ]
It wasn't supposed to go this way.
[ Dean's not even entirely sure what he means by that, if he's talking about this damned place or the Colt, or everything. The apocalypse as a whole. Things were supposed to get better, things were supposed to work, but all they've done is get worse for too long now for Dean to be able to think his way through it.
But he doesn't know what the other option would be. He knows that he's tried to change things, tried to call down Michael, tried to hand himself over, and he's not sure that would've been any better. Throw him back in time and he'd do it all over again because he's... he is what he is. He's everything that he is. ]
I know you're gonna say that we're getting a second chance here, but when I look at you- [ Dean's gaze turned, looking over Cas; worried, desperate] I can't lose you for nothing.
[ cas just shakes his head. of course it wasn't supposed to go this way. it was never supposed to go this way. but if it's one thing that cas has learned since meeting sam and dean, it's that things so rarely ever do go the way you envision. what's that human saying? the best laid plans of mice and men?
to this day, cas still doesn't have any idea what the mice have to do with it, but the point still stands. what happened.. there's no fixing it, and there's no use griping over it, either. cas will carry his regrets with him forever, but it's about time he started focusing on what's right in front of him. he's always been too pragmatic for his own good.
his brow furrows, though, once dean goes on. ]
I'm right here, Dean.
[ not lost, and not going anywhere. cas frowns in that sort of thoughtful way, his eyes hooded when he lifts them to dean's face. ]
And it wasn't for nothing. Don't cheapen it like that. We fought as hard as we could, and you know.. there's merit in that. To the very end, you gave it your all.
It's a fact that Dean wants to throw down so badly it hurts, as if he hasn't said it already, as if Cas somehow doesn't know. But he knows he does, that saying it again won't suddenly make it have the right kind of weight, the kind of meaning he needs to give it that will suddenly break him free from the torment of his failure. Because Dean? Dean is a sore loser, and someone who still can't see past his failures to the other side.
It doesn't help matters that his choice was the one that shoved Cas into his own death, and Dean can do nothing but sit in that. Can do nothing but stare at Cas like he might vanish on the spot, a perfect image of the damage he caused.
Even if Cas is here, even if he thinks he isn't going anywhere, Dean is sure he knows different. Because what could happen once could happen again and all Dean can think is he's not damn well letting it. He's not letting his own mistakes destroy what they have, and he's not losing Cas to a failed mission. He won't, he can't, there's no way.
Jaw set stubbornly, Dean just stares back, trying to find words he can offer, trying to find something beyond the meaning set behind his eyes. ]
[ cas holds dean's glance for a good long while, something unreadable ghosting behind his eyes - something like pain, perhaps, or loss, or deeper furious worthlessness. cas had known right away what dean had meant for him the moment he sent them through those doors; he wouldn't make it out alive. he was fodder. he'd give his life and get shredded by crotes and demons like lumber fed into a wood chipper, for just one narrow shot at bringing down the devil.
he'd made his peace with it, honestly. from the moment he fell, cas had been ready to give up his life for the greater good if necessary, willing to give everything he had to attempt to set things right. he's still willing to do that.
.. but something about dean's face, his eyes, about being sacrificed - it had seemed so easy for him. there'd been no goodbyes, no thank yous, no anything, and the selfish, proud side of him had been offended by that, hurt by it, thought maybe he deserved more from dean for all he had given up for him. some.. recognition for all they'd been through together, for the final sacrifice he was willing to make, ready to die at dean's behest, but he hadn't gotten anything, just a dead-eyed stare and a cold death sentence.
so to get that now - cas isn't really sure how to parse it, or even what to make of it. he only has to assume that dean's got a long list of regrets, like all the rest of them. ]
Yeah, well. [ he starts with a shrug, glancing away at last, toward the floor with hooded eyes. ] I was happy to do it. You know that. Whatever it is you need from me, Dean, you know I'll always give it.
[ He was ashamed. Ashamed of how badly he wanted to win, of what it was going to take to do what he thought would kill the Devil. Dean hadn't wanted any of it to end up the way it had and to finally have to realize who would need to die so he could finish the task - it was enough to kill him entirely. Too many parts of him were already dead but this, this would finish him off.
And he'd known that, but hadn't done a single thing to change it. He hadn't wanted to see the way Cas would look when he told him, hadn't wanted to have that conversation. It would have been too much to cope with and so he simply didn't give Cas what he deserved, killing himself instead by ounces.
That's not to say it was the right choice; Dean doesn't know what would be at this point. It's why he can't stand the idea now that he was ever the leader of their little pack, a man who was given the privilege to make decisions, ones that would get far too many people killed. Those lives were in his hands, Cas' most of all. And he'd fed him to the flames, tossed him under, given him away when all Dean ever wants is to keep him close.
Dean doesn't know what else to do in the moment, watching Cas turn away, the shrug of his shoulder, all indication that it means by far more for Cas than he wants it to. It's not as if it doesn't to Dean, he just doesn't know what to do with it, how to make it better, if it's even possible. And besides, there's another question within that, and Dean scrubs at his face for a moment, trying to suss out what he might even thinks he needs anymore. Which he isn't going to surmise within seconds.
Not quite, at least. ]
I used to think I knew what I needed.
[ And now, the only thing he can think of, is Cas himself. ]
[ becoming more or less functionally human has taught cas a great many things. living as a mortal, seeing the world through their eyes, from their perspective.. it's really an entirely alien thing, and only a few years ago, he and dean had been such enormously different creatures that it's really a wonder they became friends and allies at all, and that cas has been able to really come to grips with what it means to be human.
so it's easy for him to answer this way, with a wry sort of smile twisting his mouth. ]
I'm pretty sure no one really knows what they need.
[ heaven knows cas sure doesn't. knows what he wants, sure, but what you want and what you need are not the same things, not mutually exclusive. what cas needs.. damn, he can't even begin to wonder what it might be. probably a good long rest. who knows. he shrugs, nudging dean's shoulder with his own, trying to keep things light. ]
[ Dean's not sure - he's guessing that somewhere out there are people that know what it is they're looking for. Really and truly know; haven't somehow gotten all fucked up in all the other crap. Someone has to at least, they cant all be floundering in the way Dean's always seen. But maybe that's just a dream, and idea of a life he never got to lead. Dean doesn't know.
Considering he's fairly sure the real problem is whether or not you deserve whatever it is you need. And in his case, he's not so sure he does. But that's always been the case, for his whole damn life, not just since the Apocalypse threw down on their world. He wasn't sure he deserved any of it years ago, but now? No even more so.
Rolling his eyes, Dean bumps back, putting his weight behind the gesture- fully aware that he's not always the best at keeping things toned down. But he can attempt it, at least. ]
Yeah, well- I gotta worry about something.
[ He's spent the past five years worrying relentlessly, he doesn't know how to stop. ]
[ maybe that's true, but cas doesn't think it's most people, thinks the majority of humans just stumble their way through life, trying to do their best, to achieve what they can, to live up to some sort of code. there are likely the privileged few with conviction enough to know exactly what it is they want, but in the end, human beings are so complex, there are so many moving parts..
well, he has to commend those that do really know what it is they want out of life, though he thinks perhaps that is a less colorful way to exist.
nevertheless, dean's not so far gone that he can't be a little playful, at least in his own begrudging way, and cas smiles again when he feels that rough nudge, then exhales hard and rattling, like he's dropping a weight. this conversation might not have been easy, still isn't settling right in his ears, but at least it's done, and he knows everything that he needs to know. ]
Or what? You gonna implode if you don't have something to fuss over, huh?
[ It's true, Dean isn't completely frozen solid, though at times he'd much prefer if everyone thought he was simply for his own benefit. It makes it easier on him to believe it just as much, to convince himself he's the big man on campus that doesn't have to feel. It's simpler that way, everything hurts less, and he wouldn't have to be sitting here steeping in a mess of his own emotions.
And yet here he is, doing just that. A thing he used to do by far more often.
But sometimes, Dean forgets just what a comfort Cas is. What a comfort he's always been, and has only grown to become even more so. Dean gets a little too dead behind the eyes some days, convinces himself a little too well that he doesn't need to feel and always ends up in the wrong place because of it. He can't help but curse himself for it now, hear the heaviness in Cas' breath and tell himself that he did this. He built these walls and he buried himself within them.
Which is why he feels the impetus just that much more loudly to do something about it, lifting a careful palm to Cas' shoulder, touch smoothing sideways. It's meant to be something of an apology, all the things Dean hasn't said yet, the things he probably missed, fucked up, and everything in between. ]
[ not that cas is really one to talk, worrier that he is, but he likes to think that there is a healthy medium, a sound place somewhere in the middle where one can worry enough to be effective while also not driving themselves (and their friends) out of their minds. dean lingers on things, cas knows it, he's always been that way, long before the apocalypse, likely long before cas even knew him, but there's a difference between holding loosely onto some regrets, and beating a dead horse until it's a bloody heap.
but he won't lecture dean. not really. never really would. he can only plant seeds and nurture them, hope they take root, and if they don't, he tries again.
for now, though, cas just yawns and stretches his arms out ahead of him until his spine gives a satisfying pop, before he's unfolding himself to rise up to his feet again, but not before smiling warm and patting dean's knuckles where they linger on his shoulder. ]
Anyway, I'm beat. I'll leave you to uh, settle in.
[ Dean has always been and will always be one to think something over until he's decimated it completely. And even then, he'll continue, worrying and mulling and regretting until there's nothing left, until all he's left with are the remnants of what he was so upset about to begin with. It's in his nature to find ways to blame himself, to take on the weight and the guilt, a well worn path that was constructed for him in his youth and he simply took on because what else was he supposed to do?
And all of this is no different. He's still regretful, still apologetic, still wondering why he feels like the world has ended despite how they're both right here.
But Dean finds himself self conscious in an instant as Cas begins to move about, feeling far too big for his own skin and quantifiably nervous. He finally pulls back his hand to plop his palms against his knees, staring off at nothing in particular for a moment before he nods and looks to Cas. ]
[ it's more than obvious to cas's eyes that dean's jittery, and cas can easily commiserate with the sensation of not fitting into your skin, feeling that itch; sometimes he still feels it, isn't sure it'll ever go away.
so he finds it difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to smooth a hand through dean's hair in a way he knows might be comforting, but dean's edgy, he's tight and wound up, like a cornered animal, and cas knows when not to overstep his bounds. there was once a time when dean was a touchy-feely guy, when he was always clapping cas's shoulder or tugging at his tie, being physical in a way that just seemed so natural and cas was too awkward then, too clumsy in his vessel to be able to properly appreciate it.
sometimes it still comes through, dean's warmth, but it's a guttering candle flame in comparison with the inviting, roaring hearth it once was; dean's gotten colder, distant, gone to places even cas can't reach. but then, they all had, all of them back home, no one could live through what they endured without losing something important and precious along the way. ]
Yeah, yeah.
[ he says, shrugging boneless and easy, before he's meandering to the door and pausing halfway through to glance back toward him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
having his own space here will definitely help. ]
Mm. Must've been hard for you. I know how much you love stuff.
no subject
Need it about as much as heartburn- you gonna sit?
[ Reaching over and moving everything up onto the bedside table, Dean looks back, no pressure hidden behind his gaze. For the most part, he's figuring Cas will wave him off or leave him to it, he doesn't know. But the offer's there. ]
no subject
[ leaving him to it is definitely an option, but he's already here, made the effort to come say hi, so he may as well hang around for a hot minute. dean might be a prickly son of a bitch, but he's still cas's best friend, and he doesn't mind the thorns. they're kind of.. symbiotic. you know, like a clownfish and an anemone.
so he shoves off the wall and pads on over to the bed, lazy and boneless as he drops down to sit on the edge of it, one foot tucked up beneath the opposite leg. ]
So. You gettin' comfortable yet?
no subject
And he feels bad about it. Guilty that he isn't by far more stitched up and put in his place. Better adjusted, maybe, more willing to take on a new environment and let it heal things he's not entirely sure can be fixed.
He opens his mouth to say something and ends up hesitating for twice as long, scrubbing at his face with his hands instead before he's willing to try again. ]
With the ship? Or everything else.
no subject
.. but it's been weeks now, and cas hasn't said a word. he's kept his distance, hasn't asked any of the questions that are churning in his gut and nagging at his seams, questions about home that he desperately needs closure with, things he's been in the dark about since the first moment he arrived here.
so he's been considerate. and honestly, if dean is too disturbed by it, he'll continue to be considerate, but he's got to try, and they trust one another; cas knows when he needs to push. he tangles his fingers loosely in his lap, and glances toward dean's profile with a hooded, measured stare. ]
Both. All of it.
no subject
That doesn't make it any easier.
He's fairly sure he knows what's coming, even if he doesn't know for sure, and so he waits. But even this isn't exactly a line of questioning he enjoys; it's not as if any of these facts are particularly hard to find within himself. It's looking for a way to spill them over that's seemingly complicated. ]
I'm working on it.
[ But even that seems a failure, as far as Dean can tell. Working on it has still ended up with foul mistakes, and so he tries again because being honest is a thing he only ever really attempts when Cas is around. ] I should be trying harder. I know.
no subject
nevertheless, it's his choice. and while cas might offer plenty of scathing sass when the time is right, this isn't something he's willing or able to take lightly.
so he's quiet for several long moments, simply breathing, existing, before he's leaning his elbows onto his knees. ]
You're going to have to tell me what happened, you know. The last things you remember. Where you were before you were here.
no subject
Instead, that is the question he's been waiting for, the one that makes it impossible to breath and infinitely harder to not push away from. Dean wants to put space between himself and what happened and maybe it only contributes to his inability to move past it, an inability to think of nothing but what happened. Still, he doesn't want to have this conversation. Because he doesn't want Cas to know just how badly he failed.
It's not so much an embarrassment as it is a failure and Cas is going to see straight through it in an instant.
Dean almost wants to scramble upright, but he remains still, muscles going tighter with resonating fear. He hasn't even begun to think through what he wants to say, even though he knows he should have, should've been prepared for this. He can only wish he had a script prepared in his mind, staring off to his side and attempting to remain ever the stoic man. ]
How much do you want to know.
[ He's going to crack, he already knows it; he knows. But if he can just put up one more escape, one more second between what he has to say and the moment he falls, then he'll do it. ]
no subject
they failed. there's no other possibility. if, against all odds, dean had managed to kill lucifer he wouldn't be nearly so reluctant to discuss it, it wouldn't take all of his strength to summon up the gall to actually have this conversation. but that isn't good enough, and sure, dean doesn't want to talk about it, but well, cas needs to hear it. he's got to know what it is that they've left behind. ]
All of it, Dean.
[ he can't help the roughness to his tone, the cool stoniness that's unlike what he has become, because he doesn't want to pussyfoot around here, doesn't want to give dean the opportunity to talk around the subject. hard as it is, he's got to be direct. ]
What you remember last, everything that passed after I..
[ .. vague gesture. ]
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I fucked it up. [ It's spoken gruffly, the rough notes of a voice torn in two, and Dean can feel himself cracking. Eyes starting to burn behind the heels of his palms, his gives his head a dismal shake, so apologetic he can't even begin to stand it. ]
I lost. Got it wrong. The Colt- it didn't work. Didn't do anything.
[ There it is, something so aching he wants to shout it as much as he doesn't want to say even a single piece. But what's by far more important is how he ruined everything, how it ruined Cas in tandem. He didn't just lose the war, he's convinced he lost Cas in equal measure. He couldn't save either of them, couldn't even make a moment of it worthwhile and it's all his fault. A sacrifice gone to waste, his failure, their deaths. It's all right there, and so he does the only thing he can. ]
I'm sorry.
[ It's not nearly enough and he knows it. It'll never be enough, this isn't the kind of thing he can make up for and he realizes that. He turned their lives into a waste, he broke the world, and he cannot bring it back. He can't save Cas and he can't do a single thing to make his efforts mean what they were meant to. He'd hoped so powerfully and he'd fallen so hard and it all remains utterly useless - he's always been nothing and he always will be, but god, he never meant to sacrifice the life of a man, an angel he always found so important. Especially when he was only ever meant to save the world and couldn't manage to save Cas. ]
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it's not that he doesn't appreciate it. he does, and deeply, if only because he knows how terribly difficult it is for dean to apologize for anything, to bring himself to talk about this at all, but the last thing cas wants is for dean to be sorry. what happened.. it's not just on him. it's on cas, too. it's on god and heaven for ever placing them in a situation to begin with, for creating a world full of horror and punishing them for standing up for themselves, and what they believe in.
cas blames himself, too. he always will. the guilt eats him up inside, for failing dean, for failing the world, the entire human race, but he's angry, too, angry and bitter disenchanted with heaven and angels and the god he'd called father. dean? dean just did the best he could with the absolutely shitty hand he was dealt. he tried. ]
It's all right, Dean.
[ he says, softly, genuinely. he knows full well that fancy words won't help, that he could talk until he's blue in the face but dean will still believe whatever he chooses to believe. still, cas can't have him thinking that he blames him at all. ]
We did our damned best. Things were shit. I just, you know.. needed to know.
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Lifting his face, Dean struggles to take a breath, his shoulders falling. He's fairly sure he should still be blamed for this, if only because he was the one who thought he had it all figured out, when he truly had no clue. He'd wanted to believe he had, the final answer that would solve their problem, and he'd relied on it until he'd sent them all to their demise. That's his fault, his failing, and he doesn't know how to let it go. ]
It's not all right, I should've known it was going to go that way. I thought- [ - what? dean doesn't even know what he thought any more, how he could've had as big of a head about it as he did when all he ever does is screw it up- ]
Doesn't matter what I thought, because it was wrong.
[ Dean's not even sure they did their best but at least he can attempt to believe that much. He just can't stand the thought that his failures are the only thing he's left behind in his own home, a world that will only crumble until it's gone altogether.
Staring at the opposing wall until he can't manage the welling tears, he ducks his face, fingers pushing back through his hair. ] I let you down.
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[ cas can only shake his head, because arguing blame in a broken world.. there's just no point, no reason. they fought city hall, and they lost, and the fact that they weren't able to pick up all the shattered pieces fast enough - that's not dean's fault. they strove for what they believed in, right to their dying breaths, and while cas knows that it was their decisions that directly led to the end of the world..
.. honestly, he can't say for certain that he wouldn't make the same choices, if given a second chance. how much is it worth, selling out to protect a planet? years ago, he would have easily understood the greater good, the idea that it would be okay to sacrifice half a world's worth of people if it meant saving the other half and ushering in paradise on earth, but now?
ah, dean's rubbed off on him. cas is pretty sure he'd ram himself into that wall over and over again until he broke himself utterly against it, that he'd always fight for the right for every human being to live, no matter the personal cost. their decisions led to something worse than the apocalypse, sure, but cas no longer believes that the ends justify the means. but then, if it meant saving even half of the lives that had been lost..
he could think himself in circles over this for hours. has before. but the point is, he can't blame dean for doing everything in his power to try to shape the world into what he thought was right, for giving everything to protect humanity from a threat that they never could have hoped to overcome. he shakes his head. ]
It was out best shot, and you know it. We both know it. There was no other way, nothing to be done for it. You can't beat yourself up over it forever.
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It's simply the way he's wired and has been for too long to count, willing to plop the world onto his shoulders just so he can try to carry the weight for everyone else. He wants nothing more than to be the man that knows how to save everyone else and yet he still doesn't know how to be man that fucks it all up, the one that gets it all wrong at the expense of that same exact world. He doesn't know how to see himself without seeing what he's done wrong and he doesn't know how to deal with a choice that led everyone astray. ]
It wasn't supposed to go this way.
[ Dean's not even entirely sure what he means by that, if he's talking about this damned place or the Colt, or everything. The apocalypse as a whole. Things were supposed to get better, things were supposed to work, but all they've done is get worse for too long now for Dean to be able to think his way through it.
But he doesn't know what the other option would be. He knows that he's tried to change things, tried to call down Michael, tried to hand himself over, and he's not sure that would've been any better. Throw him back in time and he'd do it all over again because he's... he is what he is. He's everything that he is. ]
I know you're gonna say that we're getting a second chance here, but when I look at you- [ Dean's gaze turned, looking over Cas; worried, desperate] I can't lose you for nothing.
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to this day, cas still doesn't have any idea what the mice have to do with it, but the point still stands. what happened.. there's no fixing it, and there's no use griping over it, either. cas will carry his regrets with him forever, but it's about time he started focusing on what's right in front of him. he's always been too pragmatic for his own good.
his brow furrows, though, once dean goes on. ]
I'm right here, Dean.
[ not lost, and not going anywhere. cas frowns in that sort of thoughtful way, his eyes hooded when he lifts them to dean's face. ]
And it wasn't for nothing. Don't cheapen it like that. We fought as hard as we could, and you know.. there's merit in that. To the very end, you gave it your all.
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It's a fact that Dean wants to throw down so badly it hurts, as if he hasn't said it already, as if Cas somehow doesn't know. But he knows he does, that saying it again won't suddenly make it have the right kind of weight, the kind of meaning he needs to give it that will suddenly break him free from the torment of his failure. Because Dean? Dean is a sore loser, and someone who still can't see past his failures to the other side.
It doesn't help matters that his choice was the one that shoved Cas into his own death, and Dean can do nothing but sit in that. Can do nothing but stare at Cas like he might vanish on the spot, a perfect image of the damage he caused.
Even if Cas is here, even if he thinks he isn't going anywhere, Dean is sure he knows different. Because what could happen once could happen again and all Dean can think is he's not damn well letting it. He's not letting his own mistakes destroy what they have, and he's not losing Cas to a failed mission. He won't, he can't, there's no way.
Jaw set stubbornly, Dean just stares back, trying to find words he can offer, trying to find something beyond the meaning set behind his eyes. ]
I couldn't have done it without you.
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he'd made his peace with it, honestly. from the moment he fell, cas had been ready to give up his life for the greater good if necessary, willing to give everything he had to attempt to set things right. he's still willing to do that.
.. but something about dean's face, his eyes, about being sacrificed - it had seemed so easy for him. there'd been no goodbyes, no thank yous, no anything, and the selfish, proud side of him had been offended by that, hurt by it, thought maybe he deserved more from dean for all he had given up for him. some.. recognition for all they'd been through together, for the final sacrifice he was willing to make, ready to die at dean's behest, but he hadn't gotten anything, just a dead-eyed stare and a cold death sentence.
so to get that now - cas isn't really sure how to parse it, or even what to make of it. he only has to assume that dean's got a long list of regrets, like all the rest of them. ]
Yeah, well. [ he starts with a shrug, glancing away at last, toward the floor with hooded eyes. ] I was happy to do it. You know that. Whatever it is you need from me, Dean, you know I'll always give it.
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And he'd known that, but hadn't done a single thing to change it. He hadn't wanted to see the way Cas would look when he told him, hadn't wanted to have that conversation. It would have been too much to cope with and so he simply didn't give Cas what he deserved, killing himself instead by ounces.
That's not to say it was the right choice; Dean doesn't know what would be at this point. It's why he can't stand the idea now that he was ever the leader of their little pack, a man who was given the privilege to make decisions, ones that would get far too many people killed. Those lives were in his hands, Cas' most of all. And he'd fed him to the flames, tossed him under, given him away when all Dean ever wants is to keep him close.
Dean doesn't know what else to do in the moment, watching Cas turn away, the shrug of his shoulder, all indication that it means by far more for Cas than he wants it to. It's not as if it doesn't to Dean, he just doesn't know what to do with it, how to make it better, if it's even possible. And besides, there's another question within that, and Dean scrubs at his face for a moment, trying to suss out what he might even thinks he needs anymore. Which he isn't going to surmise within seconds.
Not quite, at least. ]
I used to think I knew what I needed.
[ And now, the only thing he can think of, is Cas himself. ]
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so it's easy for him to answer this way, with a wry sort of smile twisting his mouth. ]
I'm pretty sure no one really knows what they need.
[ heaven knows cas sure doesn't. knows what he wants, sure, but what you want and what you need are not the same things, not mutually exclusive. what cas needs.. damn, he can't even begin to wonder what it might be. probably a good long rest. who knows. he shrugs, nudging dean's shoulder with his own, trying to keep things light. ]
So hey, try not to worry about it so much, huh?
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Considering he's fairly sure the real problem is whether or not you deserve whatever it is you need. And in his case, he's not so sure he does. But that's always been the case, for his whole damn life, not just since the Apocalypse threw down on their world. He wasn't sure he deserved any of it years ago, but now? No even more so.
Rolling his eyes, Dean bumps back, putting his weight behind the gesture- fully aware that he's not always the best at keeping things toned down. But he can attempt it, at least. ]
Yeah, well- I gotta worry about something.
[ He's spent the past five years worrying relentlessly, he doesn't know how to stop. ]
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well, he has to commend those that do really know what it is they want out of life, though he thinks perhaps that is a less colorful way to exist.
nevertheless, dean's not so far gone that he can't be a little playful, at least in his own begrudging way, and cas smiles again when he feels that rough nudge, then exhales hard and rattling, like he's dropping a weight. this conversation might not have been easy, still isn't settling right in his ears, but at least it's done, and he knows everything that he needs to know. ]
Or what? You gonna implode if you don't have something to fuss over, huh?
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And yet here he is, doing just that. A thing he used to do by far more often.
But sometimes, Dean forgets just what a comfort Cas is. What a comfort he's always been, and has only grown to become even more so. Dean gets a little too dead behind the eyes some days, convinces himself a little too well that he doesn't need to feel and always ends up in the wrong place because of it. He can't help but curse himself for it now, hear the heaviness in Cas' breath and tell himself that he did this. He built these walls and he buried himself within them.
Which is why he feels the impetus just that much more loudly to do something about it, lifting a careful palm to Cas' shoulder, touch smoothing sideways. It's meant to be something of an apology, all the things Dean hasn't said yet, the things he probably missed, fucked up, and everything in between. ]
Haven't had the chance to try it out.
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[ not that cas is really one to talk, worrier that he is, but he likes to think that there is a healthy medium, a sound place somewhere in the middle where one can worry enough to be effective while also not driving themselves (and their friends) out of their minds. dean lingers on things, cas knows it, he's always been that way, long before the apocalypse, likely long before cas even knew him, but there's a difference between holding loosely onto some regrets, and beating a dead horse until it's a bloody heap.
but he won't lecture dean. not really. never really would. he can only plant seeds and nurture them, hope they take root, and if they don't, he tries again.
for now, though, cas just yawns and stretches his arms out ahead of him until his spine gives a satisfying pop, before he's unfolding himself to rise up to his feet again, but not before smiling warm and patting dean's knuckles where they linger on his shoulder. ]
Anyway, I'm beat. I'll leave you to uh, settle in.
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And all of this is no different. He's still regretful, still apologetic, still wondering why he feels like the world has ended despite how they're both right here.
But Dean finds himself self conscious in an instant as Cas begins to move about, feeling far too big for his own skin and quantifiably nervous. He finally pulls back his hand to plop his palms against his knees, staring off at nothing in particular for a moment before he nods and looks to Cas. ]
You know where the door is.
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so he finds it difficult to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to smooth a hand through dean's hair in a way he knows might be comforting, but dean's edgy, he's tight and wound up, like a cornered animal, and cas knows when not to overstep his bounds. there was once a time when dean was a touchy-feely guy, when he was always clapping cas's shoulder or tugging at his tie, being physical in a way that just seemed so natural and cas was too awkward then, too clumsy in his vessel to be able to properly appreciate it.
sometimes it still comes through, dean's warmth, but it's a guttering candle flame in comparison with the inviting, roaring hearth it once was; dean's gotten colder, distant, gone to places even cas can't reach. but then, they all had, all of them back home, no one could live through what they endured without losing something important and precious along the way. ]
Yeah, yeah.
[ he says, shrugging boneless and easy, before he's meandering to the door and pausing halfway through to glance back toward him. ]
Anything you need, you know where to find me.
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