#graceinglorious

“He said he’d never even seen the show, Sam, but who the hell would audition for this without seeing it? I mean, I got the part before it had any sort of a name, since I’ve been on from the beginning, but we’re definitely not the A-list job someone would be looking for. Especially someone like Cas. I mean, have you seen him? Not exactly what I was expecting when they said we were getting someone new,” The actor was leaning against his couch, looking at the sticky hand that had gotten stuck to the ceiling earlier in the day and somehow yet to fall back down. That was a little bit of a problem. Maybe he should just reach it down. Or not.

“Dean, he’s been on for like six months, I get it. He’s not what you thought you were going to get from the new character. He’s not bad, though, is he?” Sam answered his brother, keeping his eyes away from the hand that was slowly falling from the ceiling. He had no idea how Dean got it stuck up there so well. He blamed glue. And Gabriel.

“No, he’s not bad. He’s just confusing. Like, we hang out all the time, and I talk, and he’s gotta be a fan, or something! Have you seen the way he looked at me the first time we met? It was like he was meeting his secret crush and had no idea it was going to happen!” Dean said, raising his eyebrows.

“Severely doubting you’re Cas’s secret crush. And, remember, he didn’t know it was happening. He said Gabe had just told him he had a role, not specifically the show or anything. He had no idea what show he was coming to, just that he’d auditioned and he got it. He had no idea you were involved, Dean.” Sam snorted at his older brother, finally standing to peel the sticky hand off of the ceiling, and Dean grunted in disapproval as Sam immediately threw it into the garbage can. What right did his little brother have to do that?

“Okay, but still. He totally recognized me,” Dean started again.

“They’d shown him –“

“Pictures, I know, I know. But the way that he was looking at me –“

“Was like he was meeting someone he’d never met before. And, maybe he was checking you out a little, fine, but he’s admitted to us and the press before that he’s –“

“Yeah, I know he’s not straight. And that’s not the problem here, Sam! I’m not either! But, I mean, now he’s invited me on this stupid – “

“Date –“

“Sam. It’s not a date. We’re hanging out.”

“It’s a date! He invited you over –“

“For a movie and dinner. Not for a hot make out session or anything.”

“Okay,” Sam realized that he was not going to rationalize his brother about this. “But Cas invited you over to his apartment. We’ve known him for six months now, and I have only ever seen you two hang out at our place. Or, sometimes, the bar. But, I mean, I just assumed that Cas lived with Gabriel.” Sam shrugged, and Dean glared at his brother.

“No matter what, it’s not a date.”

“I’m just saying, Dean, I’d wear something other than your pajama pants and Batman shirt that the logo is nearly completely worn off of.”

“Shut up, bitch.” The argument wasn’t even making sense. Wasn’t Sam arguing earlier that Cas didn’t look at Dean as anything but a friend?

“What use would you have for me then, jerk?” Neither brother could help but grin as the actor shoved Sam out of his way to go back into his room with a few choice words aimed toward his brother.

Hours later, Dean was at Castiel’s doorstep, wriggling slightly despite wearing only a level above what he’d been wearing before (some old jeans whose legs were torn up, and a AC/DC t-shirt). He knocked on the door and it was just silent other than that for a few moments.

Cas opened the door, not frazzled at all. Of course. How Cas was always put together and well-dressed, Dean never understood. “Hey. Sorry. Thought you were the pizza-man,” Cas said, glancing down at the money in his hand and sliding it over to the counter, straightening out his shirt (A button-up. A goddamned pristine button up. With all the buttons buttoned but the top two. All… put together looking) and then grinning at Dean. “Come in,”

Dean’s first step into Castiel’s apartment wasn’t exactly life-changing. He stepped in, spotted the couch where Cas had already set out two beers for them (because at least he had learned that his friend was normal in a few ways. Cas would sit around and drink a beer with him. He wasn’t too fancy for that. All the fancy was just in physical appearance, not personality), and walked over to plop onto it.

“What are we watching?” he called out to Cas, who had moved to his room to grab the blankets since his place was cold (not that Dean had mentioned it – and they were probably also so Cas could have an excuse to sit closer to him. Somebody was obsessed with somebody else’s body heat).

“Haven’t chosen yet. Figured you could look through the ones I have and pick whatever you want,” He said, and Dean stretched off of the couch with a groan as he stretched out his body before wandering forward to look through the room.

“Where would they – Oh! Found it.” He popped open the cabinet, flipping through the DVDs in there before stopping with a little bit of a victorious grin on his face as Cas stumbled through the doorway with panicked eyes.

“Wait, uh –“ He stared at the container that Dean had picked up, making a few stuttering noises to try and explain what was happening, but Dean’s grin was growing wider by the second.

“I told him you were a fan!” He shouted excitedly, “I told him you’d watched the show. I told him you were a fan of mine!” he said, and Cas stuttered again.

“I mean, I –“

“When did this start? You being my fan?” Dean was laughing as he looked down at the discs, and Cas’s face turned red. Bright red.

“I, uh, early,” He said, starting to walk out, and Dean raised his eyebrows.

“In my movies?”

“Earlier.”

“The month I lasted on that soap opera?”

The answer was stuttered some, “Earlier.”

“Dude, the only thing earlier than that was… The toothpaste commercial?”

Castiel’s face was bright red, and he was staring at his feet. “You had nice eyes. Have.”

Dean grinned and then took a step forward, Cas still standing frozen. “Have you watched it all since then?” Cas’s nod was tiny, and Dean couldn’t help but grin wider.

“You said you weren’t a fan.”

“I lied.” Dean laughed at the answer, ducking forward and touching his hand to Castiel’s face.

The next motion was completely out of his control.

Their first kiss lasted until the doorbell rang with the pizza.

Day One:

“Is he going to wake up?”

“It’s the Capitol, they won’t let him die.”

“How bad is he going to feel when he wakes up?”

“Should we check on Cas?”

Day Two:

“He’ll be waking up soon, right?”

“He’s gonna be pissed as Hell when he wakes up.”

“Where is she?”

Day Three:

“She’s not gonna be here when he wakes up.”

Days Four, Five, Six… It’s easy to lose count when the days fly by the Sam. Sam was on ‘Dean Duty’, watching his brother, who was still hooked up to Capitol machines, despite having won the Games. That was wrong. Dean was supposed to be better now! Why was he still in pain if the Capitol was supposed to help?

Sam had heard the whispers.

“It’s infected. Been infected since it was broke. Captiol ain’t sure it’s gonna be the same again. As for the face… Scarring’s gonna be the least of his worries if it doesn’t start healin’ up good like it’s s’posed to.”

There was a sigh, and Sam knew that the sound of glass was John and Bobby sharing another drink. “It sort of makes you feel like the boy should’ve just died there like he expected to.”

Day Seven.

Seven whole days of being home from the Capitol, and Dean showed his first signs of waking up. Ice was still applied on his face, and his arm was bound tight to his chest. Sam had stepped out to get some lunch – if Dean was just sleeping, there was no reason for someone to be with him at all times, anyway. It didn’t always work that way, though. Dean’s waking up was not an easy one.

“Cas, do it.” The knife was coming closer to his face, and Dean couldn’t back up any further. There was a tree. “Castiel, end this!” He didn’t know that voice. What was that voice?

He was thrashing when Sam came back in, and his brother dropped what he was doing to push Dean back against the bed and get him to calm down. He’d been off the pain medication for a day now, so when Dean finally opened his eyes, they were clear (only clouded with tears).

“Tonight’s it, Cas. We just get through tonight, one of us is going home,” The last night of their Games, knowing that their enemy was nowhere in sight. Dean’s voice was strained, he wasn’t moving his arm (he couldn’t), but he had whatever smile he could make with the wounds on his face that still opened and bled every time he moved a muscle.

“After tonight, we’re going home.”

She took the first watch.

“Sammy,” His word was gasped, confused. He was in the Games. He was there, why was Sam there? Sam wasn’t supposed to be there! Where was Cas, where were the trees? Why was he unarmed? Where was he? The boy was practically hyperventilating as his eyes darted around the room. The infection had gotten bad enough that he could barely remember the end of the Games.

“Dean, you’re back home. You’re out. Dean, you’ve gotta calm down,” Sam had his hands on Dean’s face, carefully avoiding the forming scars there, and Dean was shaking a little as he looked up at his little brother, trying to focus on what he was saying, but the fear of the Games was still shaking his body.

He was out. He was out.  He was – Where was Cas?

“Sammy, Cas. Where’s’she?” His words were slurring between the pain, panic, and lack of use. “Sam, is she here? Why isn’t she here? She’s supposed to get out, Sammy,” He was freaking out, to put it lightly, and he wasn’t even surprised to see Bobby coming in when Sam called out for help calming him down.

It took three hours to convince Dean that he was home and he was safe and that Cas was safe too. She wasn’t dead. She was in District 6. The Capitol had let them both out.

That night, Dean fell asleep on his own, but it didn’t last long.

“Dean,” She was shaking him awake, and the shocked awake as soon as he felt her shaking him, cupping her face with his one hand before looking around in confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s happening. Something’s coming. We’ve gotta get up, Dean. This is the end, this is the chase,” Cas was tugging at his arm, and Dean stumbled to get up. He probably should’ve requested more from the Careers, but he hadn’t. And now he was weak.

“Right now? Cas, it’s the middle of the night,” He was looking around nervously as she spoke.

And then the very ground seemed to shake, and he tried to grasp her hand. He had to – She was so close – he just –

He just –

“Just one more cut, Alastair, she’ll tell it all,” One of the Careers was laughing, and Dean just spared himself a roll of his eyes as he watched.

But then he was tugged over.

“Well, if it’s just one more cut, why don’t we let Winchester have a try?” The knife was thrust into his hand, a laugh from behind him as he was pushed toward the girl.

“Please,” The voice  was quiet, stuttering. Young. She was probably not even as old as Sam. Dean’s eyes were hard immediately, with terror.

“Do it, Winchester! Prove your sorry ass,” Dean had no choice. If he was going to keep up this game, for Cas, he had to –

He had to –

“I’m not gonna spare you, kid, so you might as well spill before it gets bad,” Dean’s good hand was gripping a knife while his other (injured, but not bad yet) held the twelve year old’s face where he could see it. This was his role in the pack, this was what he was needed for.

“Nothing – I don’t – “ Another quick cut against the cheek, a fakely pitying look.

“C’mon, I don’t want to hurt you,” A demonic grin, a laugh from the Careers.

“You do,” His voice was strong, and Dean brought the knife down harder.

And harder.

And harder.

Blood was everywhere. Blood was everywhere and he couldn’t stop the blood from coming from the boy, even though the rest of the Careers had left. He was staring down at his face, but the damage was done.

It was Sam.

It was practically Sam.

“Sam!” His voice was terrified as he sat up in his bed, but Sam wasn’t far. Sam immediately was in the bed with him, soothing him, like they had earlier. Dean felt the tears going down his face before he really understood what had just happened. Sam was wrapping him close to his body, and Dean was just shaking, anywhere but in the present.

It took three and a half hours for Dean to get pulled back to where he was, and this time, he wasn’t taking later for an answer.

“Where is she?” His voice was quiet, strained.

“Dean –“

“Sam, no more excuses. I need to know. She made it out, right? Why isn’t she here?”

“Dean, she’s –“

“Where, Sam?”

“She got her own house. Her and Bobby thought it’d be better that way. Dean, she’s not the same as she was, you and her, I mean, you guys aren’t –“

“She doesn’t want me.”

“Dean, I didn’t say – Can we please talk about this later?“

Two weeks.

“Sam, I can’t even work anymore.” His arm wasn’t in a cast any more, but he couldn’t move it like before. Little mechanic work was impossible when it took more effort than Dean was willing to admit to individually move his fingers.

Sam sighed, watching his older brother as Dean continued to rip the paper to shreds with his good hand, knowing that he was avoiding eye contact. After all of that time as everyone’s eye, what was Dean now?

“I want to see her.”

“Dean –“

“Sam, it’s been three weeks since the end of the Games, and I did all of this shit, I lasted this long for her. Where is she? Why doesn’t she want to see me?”

“Dean, she’s –“

“What?”

“I don’t really know, Dean. Only Bobby’s been to see her since we came back. Walled herself into her house they gave her. Didn’t really want anybody else to go in. It’s been weeks since even Bobby saw her.”

“And she won’t let me in, you think?”

“I don’t think you should try.”

“We’re going home.”

“Together.”

“I should’ve stayed there.”

It wasn’t even worth it to Cas, any more. Cas had locked herself away. his perfect Cas. Perfect and beautiful, and she still was.

And what was he?

Crippled.

Broken.

Scarred.

It meant a lot of things to the people who lived in Panem. The Hunger Games! The slaughter where 24 innocent (or, at least, mostly innocent) kids go in, and one comes out. Well, usually. One usually comes out. Not this time. This time, two came out victorious.

It didn’t feel as great as people had said. Sure, he had a house bigger than anyone should ever be allowed to have, and plenty of food to feed his brother and anyone else who happens to come by (Dean’s not about to keep that to himself), but… Well, he didn’t have Cas.

“Cas, I’m not gonna do it,” Pushing the knife back to himself, refusing to let it go anywhere near breaking her skin. “I can’t do it. You’ve got more to go to back home. You’ve got a reason to go back there. I’ve just got Sam. He can live without me.”

She hadn’t listened to him. The boy buried his head against the couch as the TV blared with some stupid Capitol program in the background, waiting for the announcement of the Quarter Quell. As long as it wasn’t like “past tribute’s siblings” or something, Dean couldn’t care less what they said.

Because now Sam was all he had left. He had gotten home with Cas, but… She wasn’t there.

“Dean, we have to-“ She was cut off by the blare of the anthem, and her arms were immediately around him, shaking. This was the end, they had to kill each other, what could the Capitol want now? They wouldn’t take away this last moment. She held tight to him until they heard the words and Dean couldn’t help but let the tear leak down his face. He was going home. They were going home.

“Dean,” Sam jabbed his side when the president stepped up with the envelope, and Dean sighed, knowing that he should sit up. The victor rested his head against his brother’s shoulder as they explained the Quell – everyone already knew why it existed. Everyone already knew what was up with that.

And then the reading.

“Former victors.”

“Former victors.”

“Victors.”

He was supposed to be safe. Between the blood roaring in his ears and the sound of the TV, Dean couldn’t hear Sam talking when he rushed to his feet. He had to get out of there.

He had to get out. He had to get –

“We’re going home, Dean,” The first night after the Games, shaking in Castiel’s arms. They weren’t home yet, and it was nightmare after nightmare, all day. He could barely move his arm, and he was hopped up on all sorts of pain meds between all of the stitches and scarring he’d have when they got home. Cas was barely scratched.

“We’re going home. It’s okay. We’re safe. No one’s there.” But there was no stop to his shaking, until someone from the Capitol came in, with another medicine, or something.

When he woke up, he was alone.

The man didn’t know when he had managed to get into Bobby’s house, but the second that he did, the tears started to spill, and he went moving through the place until he found the other Victor, shaking as he reached the table. “Bobby,” He started, looking up with terrified eyes, and the elder only slid him a glass with a small, sad smile.

Bobby knew he wouldn’t be going to the Games. There was no way Dean could possibly be convinced to not find a way in, even if Cas begged him to stay behind. Which she would. They both would beg to keep the other safe.

Bobby couldn’t bring himself to cutting the boy off, and let him down drink after drink, without Dean saying a word. What was he supposed to say?

When he left Bobby’s, he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go back to Sam. He had to go to –

It was the last time that they slept together. The last night on the train after their Victory Tour, Dean shaken with nightmares of what the day had recalled. Of him killing the little boy, the torture. Of everything. He couldn’t – he couldn’t bare it. Not anymore. And, since Cas had been forced sober for the whole tour, she was right there to wrap him up tightly the second the shaking started.

When he woke up, they had arrived in District 6, and he was alone.

He had only seen her once since then.

He was stumbling on his path to Castiel’s house, tears still blurring his vision, along with the alcohol, getting in with the key that he had been given before the two had grown apart (Why. Why had they grown apart? What had he done? What had she seen? Was he not enough? He should have let her go home alone, even after they announced they both could go. He should’ve just died.).

He stumbled in, and Cas was sitting at the table, staring at him as he walked over to her. “It’s us,” He mumbled, sliding into a seat next to her.

“It’s us.” Her voice was like a miracle, and he turned to her, hands cupping her face again as they leaned in to kiss, the Capitol just having finished talking. “It’s us, Dean. Both of us. We’re going home.”

The Capitol had wanted a love story, and that’s what they got.

He looked up when he felt her hand stroke through his hair, and he realized that she was sober. She was awake. There was nothing around. “Cas, it’s not supposed to be us. We’re supposed to be safe. We’re supposed to stay here,” He hadn’t had so much that he was slurring, but he had enough that he kept his head against the table to hide the majority of the tears.

They walked to the couch, him resting his head in her lap, tears still falling. “We were supposed to stay home. To get married, have a family. Be the Capitol’s perfect couple. Or, maybe, just never talk again like we were before. They won’t let us both win again,” He said, his whole body shaking. “It was a mistake. They’re just fixing their mistake. I can’t do it again,”

“I can’t do it again,” The final stop of the Victory Tour – the Capitol. A special night was planned for tonight. What was a better party for the loving Victors than a wedding? He was dressed as well as he’d ever been dressed, in a suit that apparently (in Crowley’s words) “fit perfect”, but Dean felt like he was being squeezed out of there immediately.

“We don’t have to do it again,” Her words were forced, and he knew that the dress (extravagant and flashy) was the opposite of what they wanted. This whole wedding was. “Just count this one. The whole Capitol will.”

“I don’t want to,” He muttered, fixing the tie as they were called out for the ceremony.

“You’ve gotta let me go, Cas. I can’t go through the Games with you again. Not when I know that, one way or another, I’m gonna lose you. We’re the youngest, we have the least experience, we don’t even – “ He had to cut himself off.

She just sighed quietly. “I’m sorry,” Was what he thought he heard.

But after all he’d done…