[ Cas knows what falling feels like, in more ways than one.
He's fallen from grace, a freefall plummet towards the muck and dirt of mortality. He's fallen out of favour and fallen into debauchery, falling from the high of painkillers and alcohol, fallen from the easy floating that he grasps for in sexual relations. Fallen on his face, too, breaking bones and scraping skin.
Cas knows what falling feels like.
His tilts his head back slightly, stares into the middle distance. Understands now that the flood of bodies was merely a fucked up joke, a portent, a warning he willfully ignored.
His gaze drops. Toes curl against the hardwood floor. Eyes wide open and burning. He's tired. He's so tired. There isn't sensation enough to tether him anymore, and he doesn't understand anything in the flood that drowns out everything else.
Cas knows what falling feels like.
And now he knows what it's like to hit the ground.
There's nothing in him but the sensation of a long drop and sudden stop, the noose of freedom and rebellion drawing taut and snapping something in him.
Nothing works, for a moment, his thoughts, his breathing, his heart, they all just come to a stop.
Please, no.
He doesn't say it.
Please take it back.
He doesn't say it.
Dean...
He didn't even feel it. ]
I have wine.
[ Because all that's left to do, for now, is wash his own corpse down the drain. ]
cw: mentions of sex, substance abuse, hangings
He's fallen from grace, a freefall plummet towards the muck and dirt of mortality. He's fallen out of favour and fallen into debauchery, falling from the high of painkillers and alcohol, fallen from the easy floating that he grasps for in sexual relations. Fallen on his face, too, breaking bones and scraping skin.
Cas knows what falling feels like.
His tilts his head back slightly, stares into the middle distance. Understands now that the flood of bodies was merely a fucked up joke, a portent, a warning he willfully ignored.
His gaze drops. Toes curl against the hardwood floor. Eyes wide open and burning. He's tired. He's so tired. There isn't sensation enough to tether him anymore, and he doesn't understand anything in the flood that drowns out everything else.
Cas knows what falling feels like.
And now he knows what it's like to hit the ground.
There's nothing in him but the sensation of a long drop and sudden stop, the noose of freedom and rebellion drawing taut and snapping something in him.
Nothing works, for a moment, his thoughts, his breathing, his heart, they all just come to a stop.
Please, no.
He doesn't say it.
Please take it back.
He doesn't say it.
Dean...
He didn't even feel it. ]
I have wine.
[ Because all that's left to do, for now, is wash his own corpse down the drain. ]