He drinks until he’s passed out on the floor. Drinks, watching the feed from the dungeon room on his laptop - he and Cas on screen, gravitating toward each other, two stars headed to destruction.
Cas’ voice, over and over again until the room blurs away, and the world narrows down to three words: “I love you”.
The one thing I want I know I can’t have -- on time, I know I can’t have it on time.
He only says it when it’s too late, when there’s nothing to be done about it. Afraid to hear the bitter truth. Dean was afraid too, he never knew what his own answer was going to be -- until it was too late, until no one was around to hear it, anyway.
Cas. Shards of his heart scattered on the floor.
Rewind. Replay.
I love you.
He pauses the tape, before it’s too late, while he still can pretend this is how it ends. I love you -- and Cas smiles, because this is how it’s supposed to be.
Love is a gift, you keep those. Proud. Precious. Not desperate and heartbreaking.
I love you. I love you. I love you. He’s never taken, he never leaves -- if Dean manages to press pause on time.
I love you.
“And I, you,” to the laptop screen, in the smallest of voices, because that’s all he gets for waiting too long. That’s what he deserves.
I love you.
And I, you.
Was it so hard to say? Just find the words, the simplest of them, and push them out, even if they wanted to stick to his teeth. Let them bounce and roll across the floor.
Let him know.
I love you.
A prayer. A blessing.
I love you.
A curse.
Now just words on a tape, no answer.
There’s a knife in Dean’s hand, still sporting Cas’ blood - it’s the only thing left of him, and if it wasn’t so heartbreaking, it would be telling that only things he left behind were so -- human.
Blood sigil on the door, blood on the knife, blood handprints on his jacket and --
Pause. Rewind. Replay.
I love you.
The hand trembles as the blade cuts into wood, soft and eager under the pressure.
That’s what teenagers do, cut each other’s names into trees. A heart, two names, and “forever.”
I love you.
Rewind. Replay.
I love you.
Because that’s all Dean’s got - his name carved into the tabletop and the “I love you.”
Three words which were supposed to be the beginning of something great.
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"Yeah," Dean says, even the word punching the air out of his lungs.
His therapist, Nicole, glances at him with approval. He looks away. Part of him likes the feeling of finally getting this right. And part of him feels completely humiliated.
"Yeah, fuck..." he says again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm bi."
From the corner of his eye, Nicole is giving him an empathetic look, but luckily it's restrained and small. She writes something in her notebook, then sets it down on the desk beside her.
Dean's crying. God, when did he start crying? He's blinking up at the ceiling to try and will the tears away, but it's too late now, the dam is burst and she's watching him. Proud and empathetic and so fucking patient as if this isn't as shameful as it gets.
"It’s normal to get emotional," she says, calmly. "This is a big step."
He almost wants to believe her, if only he couldn't see his father's face in his head.
"I just..." he chokes. He stops himself and he can see the scars on his arms. The ones he's gathered slowly over the years. The ones that chiseled his skin with his name, his legacy.
"People like me," he says, voice cracking. "They can't just. . . change."
He pulls down his sleeves. She just doesn't understand. How could she?
(the rest under the cut)
"This was a bad idea," he says in a high pitched whisper, standing. He's got his fingers laced behind the back of his skull and the room feels white and spinning. He's got to get out of here. This place isn't safe. His eyes dart from corner to corner in the room. He sees the available exits... Windows, mostly, and he imagines crashing through, shards of glass etching more letters into his skin.
"You're safe," Nicole says and it sets him on edge even more.
The only exit he can't seem to find is the door. Where's the door?
She's standing by his side, now, eyes chasing his.
"Deep breaths."
Air. That's what's missing. He can't breathe.
Is he dying?
"Deep breaths, Dean. It's going to be okay."
Dean closes his eyes, tight. He forces himself to suck air into his lungs the way he watches Nicole do it. Deep inhales, long exhales.
He's never stood this close to her, even when he'd started the sessions a year ago trying to flirt heavily. Nicole had largely ignored his advances at first until she'd started calling it 'projecting.' The flirting had died down pretty quickly after that.
Now though, there was an entirely new feeling as she stood close. Vulnerability. Trust.
"I know you want to leave, but it says a lot that you haven't yet," she says calmly walking him through the breaths with her hand motioning against her own chest.
"Pretty sure I've left this office plenty of times over the past year, in case you didn't notice, Doc," he spat.
Nicole takes another deep breath for show, then sets a soft hand on his forearm.
"But you came back," she says gently.
Dean's head is still swimming, but the breathing is starting to calm him a little.
With a light squeeze, she drops her hand again.
"Do you know what that is?" she says.
Dean's crying still. He can't seem to stop, no matter how hard he tries.
"Stupid?" He asks, meaning it to sound like a joke, but instead it sounds so small. Like he's really hoping someone will tell him it's not true.
The room feels like a cage.
His knees are trembling.
Dean hates it. He hates the way his walls are starting to crumble and the way he's not sure who he is without them. Shame is burning in his chest and the windows still call for him to explode them to pieces the way he feels shattered right now. Pay it forward, right?
But he's learning. It's taken a year, but there's one thing he knows now that he didn't know back then--
it won't hurt forever.
Even when he's in what his therapist likes to call "crisis," he can recognize that. And that alone is something it's taken him a long time to learn.
He takes another deep breath.
It's at least ten minutes before he's breathing normally again. With help, he finds his way back into the chair. He wipes his eyes with the edges of his sleeves until they feel rough and dry.
He's tired. He's raw. But, somehow, he also feels lighter.
Finally, his brain has started to slow. It feels like a regular room again instead of a cage, afternoon sun warming the carpet in patches.
Nicole is steady and calm like an anchor, and Dean's always liked that. It's like he's not hurting her when he talks, even if his brain screams the opposite.
They sit in silence for a while. Dean wonders how something that felt so big could dwindle and die like a doused candle. Quick. Calm. Only the smoke left as the air clears between them.
He'd said it. He'd really said it out loud.
"Dean," Nicole says, hands folded across her lap. "That was really brave."
Brave.
Dean looks at the clock in the corner of the room, then to the far wall with light shining through the glass.
He lets out another breath.
Brave.
The room is steady. The space is quiet.
The windows aren't broken.
And, somehow for the first time, he realizes maybe he isn't, either.
title: the rhyme of salvation
pairing: dean/castiel, background sam/eileen
rating: T
word count: 6k (complete)
tags: fix-it, happy ending, begins at the end of 15x19
summary:
“Nothing human can exist in the Empty,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “It would just - spit you back out, and probably kill you in the process.”
“Then -” Dean pulled in a deep breath. Made his choice. “Then make me not human.”
***
“Not that this isn’t a touching little reunion,” the Empty bit out, yanking Dean’s head back to a harsh angle, “but all the go-getter attitude in the world doesn’t change the fact that Castiel belongs to me.” Its mouth spread in a sinister Cheshire smile. “He agreed to be mine.”
“Yeah, the thing about that is,” Dean said, and shoved back up on his feet, all in the same movement bashing his rocklike head into the Shadow’s stolen skull. It cried out and stumbled back. “I never agreed to it.”
Taking a deep breath, Dean turned and met wide blue eyes. “And he was mine a long time before he was yours.”
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Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Pining, Fluff, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Grief/Mourning, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, this is a big fuck you to s15e20 Carry On, Happy Ending
Summary: “Do you really think that it’s possible to bring Cas back?” Sam asks in that tone that Dean hates because it means that his brother isn’t fully on board with something. “Jack didn’t really think that it could be done.”
“I don’t care,” Dean says, looking at his brother with determination. “I’ll bring him back home. I’m not gonna let Cas rot in the Empty. I’ll find him and I’ll bring him home. He deserves to be saved. He deserves to be alive.”
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Read on ao3
Tag list: @woefulcas @starlightcastiel @bend-me-shape-me
