Date: 1 May 2016 14:00 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10144491)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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. ]

Date: 3 May 2016 11:30 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10218560)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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. ]

Date: 3 May 2016 12:56 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10218555)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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.

Date: 2 Jun 2016 11:49 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10320009)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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.

Date: 3 Jun 2016 12:52 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10320012)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ But they still lost.

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.

Date: 4 Jun 2016 12:23 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10144587)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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. ]

Date: 5 Jun 2016 12:52 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10320012)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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. ]

Date: 6 Jun 2016 12:15 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10320010)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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.
]

Haven't had the chance to try it out.

Date: 7 Jun 2016 12:32 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10320012)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ 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.
]

You know where the door is.

Date: 8 Jun 2016 11:26 (UTC)
kickingand: (pic#10146329)
From: [personal profile] kickingand
[ Sometimes Dean feels as if he's two people. The man he used to be, the one that came before, and the thing he is now, a man who no longer knows how to move through the world in quite the same way. And Dean is sure of it, knows that at times they compete for space in a way that leaves him to flicker between worlds, leaves him uncomfortable and exposed, not knowing where to put his hands or which words he should let slip free. It's as if it peels back spaces that haven't been seen for years, only to have them shut down again in an instant, Dean left with nothing but the remnants of actions he used to slide into out of sheer habit.

But it makes him uncomfortable, pulls him too tight, and he always ends up right in the same place that he'd left. The one where he simply doesn't. Doesn't know how or what to do or how to respond, and so he holds himself back, amplified and waiting for the next opportunity to do it all over again. To fail and close himself off, to where he doesn't have to question his motives simply because they weren't there to begin with.

It doesn't mean that he doesn't want. Because he does. Prolifically. He just doesn't know how to say it when he gets caught up in the delivery.

Lifting his gaze back to Cas, all Dean feels is that incremental creeping of implosion, the one where he wants to bury himself somewhere deep until it dies down. He never quite knows what it is, just knows he can't do anything about it, and so he nods and tries to push his own thoughts away.
]

I know.