video;

[strangelic]

[ The man who appears on screen is wearing white hospital clothes, despite attempts to get him into something a little more him. They're comfortable, he protests. Over this he's wearing a much loved and heavily dry-cleaned (thanks, Dean) beige colored coat, the combination of the two making him look like a businessman - or perhaps a P.I. - who's had a little bit of a mental breakdown. Which...it's not far off from the truth.

In any case, he's sitting in the dark, looking drawn and tired, like he's either been trying very hard not to sleep, or the sleep hasn't been very good. It's a combination of the two, actually. ]

Did you know that human minds are most susceptible to influence when you're dreaming? If you wanted to teach yourselves how to communicate telepathically, for instance, it would be far better to do it when you're sleeping, when your brain isn't fettered by the constant needs of your body. Itching. Twitching. Fidgeting. All its aches and grumbles and complaints. Emotions. Recollections. Listening to other people chatter incessantly. Television. Arousal. You get the idea. It's all very distracting.

[ Seriously. Who let Castiel talk? Like ever.]

And let me tell you, some of those thoughts take up a lot of your time.

I--where was I? Ah. That is to say, I haven't ever slept before. I've visited dreams, of course, but experiencing my own is something else entirely. Something I'd rather avoid, if it's at all possible. So-- [ Deep breath. ] --I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions. Mnemonics, perhaps. The opposite of counting sheep. I'd drink coffee but I'm afraid I've discovered it has much the same effect on me as alcohol, which is to say I'd have to drink most of a plantation in order to have any kind of success.

Your assistance, please. I can't repay you, per se, but... Oh. [ He lifts his hands in front of him, and cups them together, and when he lifts them apart there is a little origami swan between his palms. ] I can do this.

Comments

[strangelic]

[ Castiel chewed his lip for a moment, still tense like someone had run electricity through him, but he slowly relaxed, opened his eyes and looked at Dean again quietly, assessing the situation, thinking on how confident he really felt about it.

Okay, he'd decided. ] We can talk about it. I just didn't want to talk about Raphael.

[ He lowered his eyes, and slowly his shoulders relaxed the rest of the way. ]

You said you'd talked. What did you talk about?

[kickingand]

About whether or not he'd started the damn apocalypse. [ Hardly. ] Doesn't know about me shooting him, none of it.

Still can't wrap my head around it.

[ Blatantly avoiding eye contact, Dean kept his gaze away, rooted to the cards. This wasn't something he wanted to talk about and so he breezed over it in his own way, choosing words that were important enough but picking them specifically so as not to reveal anything in particular. ]

[strangelic]

[ Castiel chewed his lip. The mystery of Lucifer? That was something else. It was something he could actually talk about, and it helped his conscience infinitely to parse it as well. He hummed softly, and called because of his sudden lack of confidence. When Dean was ready, he could turn over the next card.

Even if when he glanced up, Dean wasn't looking at him. Maybe the cards really were drawing his attention, but that wouldn't explain the tension across his shoulders. Dean was hiding something from him, and it would be difficult, in this situation, to convince him to actually spill it. Castiel didn't have the confidence to shake it out of him, either.

So he moved back to his explanation. ]

There's nothing to say that this version of Creation is the only one, or that is was even the first. It's quite possible that this Lucifer is merely from a... A draft copy.

[kickingand]

[ Clearing his throat, Dean finally reached over and flipped over the next card, nudging it into place with a weird kind of perfectionism. He suddenly wished he could sink into the game and find a way to shut off their words entirely but they were doing this, and he had no viable reason to quit talking.

And so he didn't, head bowed but gaze pulling back up to find Cas' before he snorts. ]

What, the version with all the spelling errors and the ink that got spilled over half the book? I mean, c'mon Cas, he can't be this-- [ What's a good word for it. ] Nice.

This good samaritan Lucifer thing is just weird.

[strangelic]

[ Exactly Castiel's thought. It's weird. But... But he likes it. He's not about to mention that specific thing to Dean, though. It feels like some kind of betrayal. Instead he flicks his gaze down toward the cards. A three--it was a three! Imagine that.

He sat up, admiring the card slightly, and failing at any kind of bluff. But hey, he'd thought his ace was going to win the previous hand so maybe Dean wouldn't suspect.

He blinked up at Dean again a moment later. ]

I suppose we'll come to discover, in time, just what his motivations are. I'll raise.

[kickingand]

[ And Dean, right now, would do anything to be able to change the topic. Near anything at all, even though in equal measure he almost desperately wants to talk about it. Confess to the things he can't explain and is only growing to hate about himself that much more. Burying everything that much deeper is his last resort and so he tries to do exactly that and somehow manages to fail, just becoming more agitated in tandem.

Which makes it painfully hard to pay attention to the game at hand, finding himself staring for too long, thinking of a hundred things at once, doing everything in his power to think of nothing and therefore losing track of cards in the process. ]

I'll call.

[ Did it matter anymore? He didn't know. He didn't care, he needed-- he didn't know what he needed. ]

[strangelic]

[ That's okay. Castiel puts down his two threes, which are now three threes, and therefore a winning hand. He looks cheerfully up at Dean, and then falters at his expression, and the worry written across his face.

He's been not probing deliberately since the game started, but now as concern meets his own expression he stares at him, desperately trying to work out what his averted gaze is hiding, what's worrying him so much the he can't think past it.

What he meets is a wall of denial and self hatred a mile long, and with no true center. Whatever it is that is upsetting him, Castiel can't piece it apart. But it's an odd feeling to come to blows against, either way. There's rarely anything new to be felt from Dean that he hasn't experienced before. Maybe it's just another consequence of the Mark on his arm. ]

If you don't want to play any more, we don't have to... [ Although he was disappointed. He wanted to talk about Dean's bad dreams, and somehow apologise for his own actions within them. ]

[kickingand]

[ The last thing Dean wants is for Cas to feel as if he has to do anything about it. About him. Again.

And so he tries, though he fails, to be quick about it, to scrounge together the parts of himself required to make this work. He falters for too long, trying to climb over his own self hatred, surmounting the heights he's crafted from his own mistakes. He finally makes it to shaking his head, laying down his own cards as well and offering Cas a hapless sort of smile that almost speaks to the pride he has for Cas knowing he's won. ]

Nah, i'm good. Your turn to shuffle.

[ Stacking them all back up into a pile, he hands them over purposefully, looking for all the world as if Cas best not try to talk him out of this, they're playing another damn hand. ]

[strangelic]

[ Castiel collects the pebbles that he's won, and shuffles the cards again efficiently, finally turfing down the five cards of the river and handing two each off the top of the deck to each of them. This time his hand isn't marvelous. There's not much to be done with a two of hearts and a nine of hearts. Even so, he gives Dean a glance as he waits for him to decide what to do. ]

I wanted to ask...

[ His confidence faltered, just slightly. It was a big, scary topic. If he remembered visiting Dean's dream, then maybe Dean remembered visiting his own. Both had been unpleasant. But more than that, it was admitting that some part of the horrors Dean had seen had been part of Castiel and not just his own imagination. Castiel had killed him. ]

Do you remember any of your dreams?

[kickingand]

[ Using the seconds he's given by way of Cas collecting the cards and shuffling, Dean leans sideways for a moment, resting his elbow against his knee and shoving his fingers through his hair, trying to put himself back the way he'd come. He had to get a grip and keep a hold of it for Cas' sake, lest the angel be forced to pick up Dean's pieces as well.

After a second, he accepts the cards he's given - a jack of spades and a six of diamonds - nothing worth much, but he looks up to Cas' question, eyebrows raised.

Oh.

Well, alright. Let's do this, then. He doubts the topic is one that Cas wants to go into but if he brought it up then it's one he's truly serious about. And one that Dean needs to confront seriously, lest he ends up hurting Cas more in the process. ]

Think I remember all of 'em.

[strangelic]

[ Castiel didn't know what had rattled Dean so much, but the second topic isn't even much better. He frowns to himself, at his cards, everything, and shifts over very slightly in the perched position he's made for himself, his stack of pebbles shifting precariously toward the crack at the back of the couch. ]

Then you remember...finding Sam and myself dead, in the... [ He frowns, giving his head a bit of a shake. ] Wherever it was that we were.

[ He didn't want to talk about it, but maybe if he faced this topic first he wouldn't have to speak about his own. ]

[kickingand]

The bunker, you-

[ Dean is seconds away from saying 'you know about the bunker, Cas' but it's at that, that Dean's eyes almost light up as he looks up. As if there's an ounce of happy news he might be able to provide, to offer to Cas in all of this. Because having a home is always worth sharing, even if it comes with the kind of imagery that Cas had seen. ]

I'll tell you about it later.

[strangelic]

[ What an odd response to have to those words. Dean's sudden hopeful pleasure makes Castiel falter, glancing up at him warily again. Whatever it is, Dean is proud of it, which is...it's just strange. He'd felt it, though, when he'd been in the dream, the feeling that the place had been a kind of home to Dean. It had felt safe, which had only meant the invasion had been even more frightening.

Castiel dropped his eyes away again. ]

Okay. [ A muscle twitched in his jaw. ] I was worse than the dream. I... [ He grimaced. ] I sent you back to Hell. I don't know why I'd do that.

[kickingand]

[ And right back to it. Dean fussed with the hair at the nape of his neck, rubbing nervously just to give his free hand something to do. ]

Because it was a dream? I don't know Cas, dreams are weird. Maybe you were upset with me, maybe- maybe you thought I deserved it. [ He shrugged, trying to remain quietly neutral in his responses, not wanting to frighten Cas one way or another. ]

You really need to come up with a reason?

[strangelic]

[ Castiel shook his head, and lowered his cards into his lap, so that he could pull at his sleeves instead, folding them across in front of himself and digging himself into them deeply, almost trying to hide. ]

I was afraid. I think... I think I knew that you weren't going to let them stay dead. I thought sending you there was the only way to stop you.

But it's not what I want. It's not how I feel. I would never... [ He grimaced. ] I alone saw what that place did to you.

[kickingand]

Cas-

[ Dean heaved an overly large breath, scrubbing at his mouth with the palm of his hand for a moment, trying to find the right words to say to piece this together. He didn't know how to delve into these depths without falling in himself and he was trying to stay out of his own emotions, trying to keep a careful distance.

Setting down his cards, face down against the couch, Dean leaned forward just enough, pointed with his words. ]

I know, okay? I know. I didn't wake up from that and think that you ever would.

[strangelic]

[ Castiel looked at him desperately, staring back into green eyes so much closer to his own and wishing, trying hard to imagine, that he believed the sentiment behind them. He knew, of course he did, but he still felt like a dog for ever considering it. For doing it, even if it was just in a dream. ]

The dreams I saw, Dean... Very few of them were pleasant. I'm almost convinced that Fear has it in for me specifically.

[ He sighed, softly, and tipped his eyes away. ]

But I wanted you to know. I needed to tell you, just in case.

[kickingand]

That's because you're scared.

[ Well. Might as well be blunt about it. Dean refused to let up with his own staring this time, because it was his turn to push. He'd lost himself in his own head moments ago and this was going to be his escape route, by pushing at Cas that much harder. He wanted to have this conversation, then they were going to have it.

Or, at least the very edge of it. ]

We both know God's feed off these things.

[strangelic]

[ Castiel kept his gaze down, feeling Dean staring at him in determination. He didn't know how to look him in the eye, so he tried looking at a point in the middle of Dean's chest, instead. Surely he wouldn't be able to tell the difference; it was basically the same area, right? ]

Admonish me all you like. I don't know how to not be afraid. I'm not a hunter, Dean, and whenever I try to help I only make things worse, time and time again.

[kickingand]

Did I say I was-- [ admonishing? He doesn't use the word admonishing. Dean grimaces for a second, rolls his eyes upwards. ]

I'm not tellin' you off for it. I'm just saying, you and I both know that they're going to pick you apart everywhere they can. It's just what they do. They'll hit you where it hurts and right now, that's where you hurt.

[strangelic]

[ He raised his eyes upward, big bright fear caught in them just a second at the slight upward beat in Dean's tone. He settled, though, in the words that came after, and Castiel tried to settle the yammering in his chest too, the tight worry the twisted in his gut. ]

That makes me even more of a threat to you, [ he answered, softly. ] If that's true, then Sam and I--we're where they'll try to unpick you.

[kickingand]

[ Dean just shook his head at that, not so much refusing to believe it as he refused to believe he would fall for that particular trap. Considering it was the same one that existed back home as well. ]

You're not a threat to me, neither of you are. You aren't back home and you're not here.

[strangelic]

But your dream... You were distraught, Dean. And when you were trapped in mine, the same thing happened. You threw yourself down even when you knew there was no possibly way to save me, no redemption.

[ He faltered, like he'd said too much, and he sank back slowly, squaring his shoulders up round his ears and looking, if anything, impressively more afraid for himself. ]

[kickingand]

[ Except Dean couldn't just let this topic sit there, he couldn't not stand up for himself and his decisions. Even in his dreams he'd done the same as he would, though perhaps more than he usually might. That didn't change his beliefs, though. ]

And you want me to what, cut it out? Sit down and shut up?

[strangelic]

[ He tipped his face away. He couldn't look apologetic, so he just stared off into a corner like it could swallow him. ]

There's no reason in the world why I should be that important to you; that you should hold me in esteem over Sam's life, or your own. There's no sense to it. Not for me.