[ Cas follows her gaze, small puff of breath falling from his lips. Right. The gun. He rolls a bony shoulder, not terribly apologetic. ]
Yeah, sure.
[ And it's bizarre. Letting someone into Dean's space who knows Dean but whom Cas doesn't even have a clue about. Dean's got a life here.
When he's not dead.
Cas almost wants to laugh. He doesn't. Instead he leads Skye inside, keeping the gun but holstering it. The house isn't... much. It doesn't look lived in except for the candles and incense. The stairs leading up to the second floor look newer than the rest of the house, as if someone put in work. It's dark.
Cas is about to lead her into the living room - with the stained glass window of Dean torturing souls in Hell. He... doesn't. Pivots at the last moment and nods towards a different hallway before moving there.
The house doesn't look lived in. It looks like a squatter's house.
Cas grabs a bottle of wine and puts it on the table. He doesn't offer Dean's whiskey. ]
[Following him inside, Skye stays behind him as he leads the way. The interior of the house is honestly what she expected if the outside was anything to go off of. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, Skye watched as he placed the bottle of wine on the rickety table. It seems out of place, all things considered.
Looking up at him, Skye played with the rings on her hand. Not knowing where to start.]
He’ll be back in 7 days. I know he shouldn’t be gone at all, but—-
[Even if she’s too exhausted to cry, it doesn’t stop the knot from forming in her throat again.]
[ Frankly, he wouldn't have bothered with the wine, would have dismissed it as just another trick this place pulls. He's already been lured in by blood, by straying too far outside in the dead of whatever constitutes night to really. He assumed the wine was a trick of this place, too, until he saw the white haired lady of blasphemy and little religious understanding on the network.
Now, the stuff could still be laced with something and not to be trusted, but Cas has lost the will to care and be careful. ]
Where's the body?
[ Cas' mind is skipping to a Hunter's funeral, but he doesn't know if the body needs to be preserved, if something needs to be done with it. Dean's been... vague at best in sharing details about this place, and Cas doesn't know if Dean doesn't know, or if he assumes Cas doesn't have to.
[ This place has a sick sense of humour. A... what? Projection, a ghost, of Dean's death? Wonderful.
Well, Cas needed something to do with his, uh... afternoon... day? night? Whatever. Nothing matters. He is so tired he feels like his own mind has been projected out of his skull. The upside is he's so light headed he barely needs painkillers to make the edges of his mind pleasantly fuzzy and numb the pain away.
Well. Except now... this.
Cas takes a long, deep swig from the bottle of wine - offers it to the girl after a moment, even though he's still not quite looking at her, more at the tabletop. ]
So. What happened?
[ Because Dean is... capable. Reckless, but not stupid, until he is. But like all of them, Dean's also been incredibly tired...
Cas steels himself. Does he want to hear it? No. Does he need to? Yeah. Because whether she tells him or not, he'll hunt down that projection and bear witness. ]
[Skye wasn't a huge fan of wine, but right now she didn't care what it was. Taking a swig from it, she winces at the taste before handing it back to him.]
Dean was gunning it back into town when one of those giant zombie dogs ran into his car. We crashed, I got out first and it came after me.
[Actually, she'll take that wine back from him for a second. Yep, still tastes just as awful as before, but maybe it will help.]
He died because he turned its attention onto him. He managed to take it with him at least.
[Skye takes one more long swig from the bottle of wine before handing it back to him again. She passes a glance in his direction before her focus too turns to the table.]
[ She might be surprised, when she looks over, to find a brief moment in which he meets her eyes. There's something deeply haunted there, something that doesn't translate to his features, as if manipulating the muscles of his face into a reflection of what's going on behind those too blue eyes is something he tries to mimic but that still doesn't quite come naturally.
That gaze only holds for a moment before he drops it to the table again. Something dark, bitter and ugly claws at his chest, makes breathing hard, and for a moment he's silent, just stares at the bottle.
So, he died for you.
Cas doesn't say it. He's become a cruel and twisted thing with a dark and blackened heart, who knows only how to weaponize emotion, not how to properly heal himself or others anymore. But he doesn't need to say it. They both know it.
She must be worth a lot, for Dean to throw himself away for her. And Cas remembers being sent to this death, a calculated plan that had no regard for his existence or lack thereof beyond being cannon fodder. Remembers, too, Dean kneeling in front of him, suturing a wound left behind by that very act, tears in his eyes. Remembers, too, Dean's refusal to share anything about the dangers out there, lest Cas leave and get himself killed.
It's too complicated.
Cas doesn't understand, just feels the way all of it hurts. ]
Yeah... Dean's good like that.
[ Used to be. And Cas... stopped believing he still was.
And now it's all ash and ruins, and Dean rising from it. Right back to self-sacrifice over sacrificing others. Cas is no longer sure which version he prefers to handle.
He drinks, too, long and deep. Doesn't care for the taste, or the pleasure of drinking. Just wants the end result. Drunk, numb, gone. There's not enough wine in the world to scrub any of this away. ]
[ Oh, he believes her. Doesn't blame her... not really. Though truth be told he wishes he could. Wishes he could tell her to fuck off and never show her face again for getting his only person killed. Except... that's not quite what happened.
Cas pinches the bridge of his nose, then sits up a little. Puts his hands on the table, lets himself feel the roughened wood. His knuckles are white, he's curled his fingers in so tight. It's not anger, though. His profile, dimly illuminated by candles, is just... drawn. Cheeck bones a little too prominent, eyes a little too hollow. ]
Thank you.
[ For telling him. For coming here, when she's clearly not in a good state physically or mentally. Does he feel like he'd be owed the information? Absolutely. But then, outside of Dean, not many people know he exists in this place - or that they're...
They're...
Acquainted.
Cas presses his lips together briefly, and then glances over at her. ]
Did... everything on his body vanish with him?
[ If Dean loses the Colt, that's... shit news all around, truth be told. ]
[Skye watches him process everything she's told him. He wanted this, and yet she feels guilty all the same. Now he has a very detailed description of how it went down.]
[ At that, his eyes flick to hers, a little sharper than the previously vacant look in his eyes. ]
Yeah, I'll, uh. I'll take that back for him.
[ The Colt is... well. Despite everything Dean's learned and told Cas about how useless it ends up being... the Colt is still important, and much too dangerous to be left in just anyone's hands.
Cas doesn't know her, or her relation to Dean, and while he has gratitude for her divulging what he didn't want to hear but needed to... it doesn't mean it sits right with him to leave the Colt of all things in her possession.
[ And yet he says it even as he raises the bottle back up. Down the hatch with it. What else is there to do - well. Plenty.
But he can't - not yet.
Tomorrow.
It means she'll be back, and it means he needs to be... well. Fucked up, but not to incoherence. Damnit. ]
Sounds like a date.
[ And he says it with the air of someone used to quipping it, like someone used to tossing his words out with an air of carefully curated ease.
Not so much right now. There's something heavy about it, about him.
Cas looks at her then, though, and nods a little more earnestly. ]
You, uhm. If you have... If you need... [ What? Comfort? Company? To not be alone and untethered and broken and unable to connect in meaningful ways? ] ... things. You can... y'know.
[ Since Dean knows her. Least Cas can do is not be a complete monster to her, even if there's little he has left to give in ways of care. ]
[She smiles a closed mouth smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She wasn't good at opening up to other people to begin with, the fact that she feels responsible for this makes her even less willing. Standing up took some effort, but she manages to with the support of the rickety chair she had been sitting on.]
Same goes for you. If you need anything, doesn't matter what time of day, call me.
[Skye realizes now, throughout this whole interaction, she has no idea what his name is.]
I'm Skye, by the way. Probably should've said that before I unloaded all of this on you.
[ Right... right, manners. A thing that exists. People want to attach names to the things that will hurt them. ]
Cas.
[ Castiel. Except, no. Not really. That's not been his name for a few years now.
And... just like that, there's nothing else left to say. Comfort rings hollow when Cas is too busy examining the way he himself cracked in half. There's nothing good he can give her - nothing that wouldn't break her as much as he's broken, anyway, and despite his own bitterness, he has no intentions of inflicting his damages upon someone who's emotionally vulnerable.
No, he likes the people he uses and lets himself be used by to be at least surface-level stable and fine. ]
[Maybe she was pushing it, but considering how desperate Skye can be at times for non-sexual physical affection, she barely hesitates before reaching out in an attempt to hug him.]
I’m so sorry.
[Hi, yes, she’ll be dealing with this survivors guilt even after Dean comes back.]
[ Cas goes... uncharacteristically still as he's trying to parse what is going on. On a very basic level, he understand what a hug is, has seen enough people partake in them to be aware, it's just...
He hasn't. Partaken, that is. Arms around him without any other sort of physical activity being initiated is... unusual, to him. And there's a stiffness to his posture that he's grown unfamiliar with, that was much more common in him when he was still an angel. He tends to be loose and fluid in all things these days. This... throws him, though.
Being this close, Skye will be able to feel his breath hitch, hear how heavy he swallows. She's... small. Warm. And he knows he should put at least an arm around her, but Cas has trouble parsing what this contact does to and for him. The way something in him clenches up tight, while something else tingles warm at the back of his skull and tries to lull him into relaxation, into melting into Skye's arms and begging her not to let go, because of all the things he never knew he might need, desperately...
Instead he just stands there, trembling. ]
I uhm. Yeah, well. Me too.
[ She needs someone, Cas thinks. Someone to wrap arms around her, someone to hold her. Someone to tell her it's not her fault, someone to tell her she's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay.
Instead all she has here is Cas, and he feels profoundly sorry for her because of that. ]
It's, uhm... it's not your fault.
[ There's still a tremor in him. He's still not reaching back. Can't - he feels as if he'll just tremble into pieces if he does. ]
[Skye doesn’t even hold it against him when he doesn’t hug her back, but it does make her retract quickly. Tonight was already painful, the last thing she wants is for him to be even more uncomfortable.
She doesn’t believe him when he tells her it’s not her fault, but she’s too emotionally drained to argue with him about it.]
[It's later in the day on the 26th when Skye shows up at his doorstep, Colt in hand this time. She isn't doing any better than yesterday, mentally or physically, but she at least made sure she didn't look like a complete mess.
Spotting Dean's wrecked car in front of the house, Skye quickly looks away as she steps up to his front door. She saw the video message Cas had made earlier in the day, but she hadn't looked to see if anyone had responded. Apparently they did.
Taking a deep breath, Skye keeps the gun at her side. Safety on, obviously.]
[ Cas looks exhausted when he opens the door - gun at his side, too, though when he sees it's her he puts it aside. He looks exhausted, and is only partially dressed, in frayed jeans, feet and chest bare. He's lean bordering on too thin, like a man who regularly doesn't give his body everything it needs. It's not terrible, not at all - not malnourished so much as mildly underfed. Just noticable enough to the perceptive eye. ]
Welcome back.
[ His voice is a hoarse mess, but her gestures her inside and steps away from the door. ]
Come on in.
[ And he turns around, leading the way back into the dark house. On his sharp shoulder blades, she'll be able to see his antler tattoo - like broken wing stumps on his back, bleeding slightly. ]
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perfectantidote) wrote2020-10-07 03:45 am
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deerington
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Yeah, sure.
[ And it's bizarre. Letting someone into Dean's space who knows Dean but whom Cas doesn't even have a clue about. Dean's got a life here.
When he's not dead.
Cas almost wants to laugh. He doesn't. Instead he leads Skye inside, keeping the gun but holstering it. The house isn't... much. It doesn't look lived in except for the candles and incense. The stairs leading up to the second floor look newer than the rest of the house, as if someone put in work. It's dark.
Cas is about to lead her into the living room - with the stained glass window of Dean torturing souls in Hell. He... doesn't. Pivots at the last moment and nods towards a different hallway before moving there.
The house doesn't look lived in. It looks like a squatter's house.
Cas grabs a bottle of wine and puts it on the table. He doesn't offer Dean's whiskey. ]
So...
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Looking up at him, Skye played with the rings on her hand. Not knowing where to start.]
He’ll be back in 7 days. I know he shouldn’t be gone at all, but—-
[Even if she’s too exhausted to cry, it doesn’t stop the knot from forming in her throat again.]
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Now, the stuff could still be laced with something and not to be trusted, but Cas has lost the will to care and be careful. ]
Where's the body?
[ Cas' mind is skipping to a Hunter's funeral, but he doesn't know if the body needs to be preserved, if something needs to be done with it. Dean's been... vague at best in sharing details about this place, and Cas doesn't know if Dean doesn't know, or if he assumes Cas doesn't have to.
Now he has to. Life's a bitch like that. ]
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Gone. I don't know how it works, but, he just disappeared.
[And that alone was pretty traumatizing to witness. Is that what Bucky saw happen to her almost a year ago?]
But there's--
It's weird.
[How does she explain it without having it sound as awful as it is?]
It's like a projection. Of the last few seconds before he--
[It was like a punch to the gut anytime she thought about it.]
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Well, Cas needed something to do with his, uh... afternoon... day? night? Whatever. Nothing matters. He is so tired he feels like his own mind has been projected out of his skull. The upside is he's so light headed he barely needs painkillers to make the edges of his mind pleasantly fuzzy and numb the pain away.
Well. Except now... this.
Cas takes a long, deep swig from the bottle of wine - offers it to the girl after a moment, even though he's still not quite looking at her, more at the tabletop. ]
So. What happened?
[ Because Dean is... capable. Reckless, but not stupid, until he is. But like all of them, Dean's also been incredibly tired...
Cas steels himself. Does he want to hear it? No. Does he need to? Yeah. Because whether she tells him or not, he'll hunt down that projection and bear witness. ]
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Dean was gunning it back into town when one of those giant zombie dogs ran into his car. We crashed, I got out first and it came after me.
[Actually, she'll take that wine back from him for a second. Yep, still tastes just as awful as before, but maybe it will help.]
He died because he turned its attention onto him. He managed to take it with him at least.
[Skye takes one more long swig from the bottle of wine before handing it back to him again. She passes a glance in his direction before her focus too turns to the table.]
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That gaze only holds for a moment before he drops it to the table again. Something dark, bitter and ugly claws at his chest, makes breathing hard, and for a moment he's silent, just stares at the bottle.
So, he died for you.
Cas doesn't say it. He's become a cruel and twisted thing with a dark and blackened heart, who knows only how to weaponize emotion, not how to properly heal himself or others anymore. But he doesn't need to say it. They both know it.
She must be worth a lot, for Dean to throw himself away for her. And Cas remembers being sent to this death, a calculated plan that had no regard for his existence or lack thereof beyond being cannon fodder. Remembers, too, Dean kneeling in front of him, suturing a wound left behind by that very act, tears in his eyes. Remembers, too, Dean's refusal to share anything about the dangers out there, lest Cas leave and get himself killed.
It's too complicated.
Cas doesn't understand, just feels the way all of it hurts. ]
Yeah... Dean's good like that.
[ Used to be. And Cas... stopped believing he still was.
And now it's all ash and ruins, and Dean rising from it. Right back to self-sacrifice over sacrificing others. Cas is no longer sure which version he prefers to handle.
He drinks, too, long and deep. Doesn't care for the taste, or the pleasure of drinking. Just wants the end result. Drunk, numb, gone. There's not enough wine in the world to scrub any of this away. ]
You got a location for me? Where it happened?
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[Skye looks up towards the ceiling, attempting to keep an eye tears from coming out.]
Not that far from here. On route 7 near the fire station.
[She had to pass it to get here, but she made an effort not to look.]
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Cas pinches the bridge of his nose, then sits up a little. Puts his hands on the table, lets himself feel the roughened wood. His knuckles are white, he's curled his fingers in so tight. It's not anger, though. His profile, dimly illuminated by candles, is just... drawn. Cheeck bones a little too prominent, eyes a little too hollow. ]
Thank you.
[ For telling him. For coming here, when she's clearly not in a good state physically or mentally. Does he feel like he'd be owed the information? Absolutely. But then, outside of Dean, not many people know he exists in this place - or that they're...
They're...
Acquainted.
Cas presses his lips together briefly, and then glances over at her. ]
Did... everything on his body vanish with him?
[ If Dean loses the Colt, that's... shit news all around, truth be told. ]
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[Skye watches him process everything she's told him. He wanted this, and yet she feels guilty all the same. Now he has a very detailed description of how it went down.]
I didn't think to bring it, I have it at home.
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Yeah, I'll, uh. I'll take that back for him.
[ The Colt is... well. Despite everything Dean's learned and told Cas about how useless it ends up being... the Colt is still important, and much too dangerous to be left in just anyone's hands.
Cas doesn't know her, or her relation to Dean, and while he has gratitude for her divulging what he didn't want to hear but needed to... it doesn't mean it sits right with him to leave the Colt of all things in her possession.
Cas licks his dry lips. ]
Uhm... trade you for a bottle of wine?
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That's not necessary, and besides, that stuff is awful.
[And yet she's beginning to feel warm. It certainly doesn't help that she hasn't gotten a whole lot of sleep this month.]
I just need to get it from home.
[Speaking of, she's probably ruined his evening enough.]
I can bring it here tomorrow?
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[ And yet he says it even as he raises the bottle back up. Down the hatch with it. What else is there to do - well. Plenty.
But he can't - not yet.
Tomorrow.
It means she'll be back, and it means he needs to be... well. Fucked up, but not to incoherence. Damnit. ]
Sounds like a date.
[ And he says it with the air of someone used to quipping it, like someone used to tossing his words out with an air of carefully curated ease.
Not so much right now. There's something heavy about it, about him.
Cas looks at her then, though, and nods a little more earnestly. ]
You, uhm. If you have... If you need... [ What? Comfort? Company? To not be alone and untethered and broken and unable to connect in meaningful ways? ] ... things. You can... y'know.
[ Since Dean knows her. Least Cas can do is not be a complete monster to her, even if there's little he has left to give in ways of care. ]
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[She smiles a closed mouth smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She wasn't good at opening up to other people to begin with, the fact that she feels responsible for this makes her even less willing. Standing up took some effort, but she manages to with the support of the rickety chair she had been sitting on.]
Same goes for you. If you need anything, doesn't matter what time of day, call me.
[Skye realizes now, throughout this whole interaction, she has no idea what his name is.]
I'm Skye, by the way. Probably should've said that before I unloaded all of this on you.
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Cas.
[ Castiel. Except, no. Not really. That's not been his name for a few years now.
And... just like that, there's nothing else left to say. Comfort rings hollow when Cas is too busy examining the way he himself cracked in half. There's nothing good he can give her - nothing that wouldn't break her as much as he's broken, anyway, and despite his own bitterness, he has no intentions of inflicting his damages upon someone who's emotionally vulnerable.
No, he likes the people he uses and lets himself be used by to be at least surface-level stable and fine. ]
I'll, uh. See you. Tomorrow.
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I’m so sorry.
[Hi, yes, she’ll be dealing with this survivors guilt even after Dean comes back.]
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He hasn't. Partaken, that is. Arms around him without any other sort of physical activity being initiated is... unusual, to him. And there's a stiffness to his posture that he's grown unfamiliar with, that was much more common in him when he was still an angel. He tends to be loose and fluid in all things these days. This... throws him, though.
Being this close, Skye will be able to feel his breath hitch, hear how heavy he swallows. She's... small. Warm. And he knows he should put at least an arm around her, but Cas has trouble parsing what this contact does to and for him. The way something in him clenches up tight, while something else tingles warm at the back of his skull and tries to lull him into relaxation, into melting into Skye's arms and begging her not to let go, because of all the things he never knew he might need, desperately...
Instead he just stands there, trembling. ]
I uhm. Yeah, well. Me too.
[ She needs someone, Cas thinks. Someone to wrap arms around her, someone to hold her. Someone to tell her it's not her fault, someone to tell her she's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay.
Instead all she has here is Cas, and he feels profoundly sorry for her because of that. ]
It's, uhm... it's not your fault.
[ There's still a tremor in him. He's still not reaching back. Can't - he feels as if he'll just tremble into pieces if he does. ]
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She doesn’t believe him when he tells her it’s not her fault, but she’s too emotionally drained to argue with him about it.]
I should—
I’ll be back tomorrow.
cw: mentions of sex
Yeah, uhm... yeah.
[ How is this so painfully awkward? He's used to being naked with people, used to fucking and splitting after, used to being open about it, too. This?
He's starting to get why Dean rejects talk about emotions. ]
I'll see you.
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Spotting Dean's wrecked car in front of the house, Skye quickly looks away as she steps up to his front door. She saw the video message Cas had made earlier in the day, but she hadn't looked to see if anyone had responded. Apparently they did.
Taking a deep breath, Skye keeps the gun at her side. Safety on, obviously.]
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Welcome back.
[ His voice is a hoarse mess, but her gestures her inside and steps away from the door. ]
Come on in.
[ And he turns around, leading the way back into the dark house. On his sharp shoulder blades, she'll be able to see his antler tattoo - like broken wing stumps on his back, bleeding slightly. ]
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[Skye half expects him to just take the gun from her at the door, so when she’s invited in she hesitates for a second.]
You got someone to help you bring the car back?
[Her eyes land on his back as she steps inside, and even in the low light she can make out his tattoo bleeding.]
What happened?
[He has to know that his back is bleeding, right?]
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[ Cas makes a dismissive gesture. ]
It keeps doing that. It's fine.
[ Probably. He keeps ditching shirts because of that. Can't bleed through everything he has on loan from Dean, after all. ]
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Maybe you should get it checked out anyway.
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Probably. I'm genuinely... too tired to mind it, much. How is your.. uhm. Everything.
[ The wounds, the... survivor's guilt.
He winces, moving towards the kitchen once more.
Wine, definitely. ]
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CW: Gunshot wound
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