hadriel | video;

Entry tags:

video;

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

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.

[ 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.

[ 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?

[ 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.

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.

[ 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.

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.

[ 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.

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.

[ 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.

[ 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.

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. ]

[ 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?

[ 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.

I don't hold you over Sam's life.

[ But over his own? That was different - he didn't know. He certainly held Sam's over his own and while he recognized his own behavior in the dream, he didn't know what he'd do in the real world where he given the same questions. And yet part of him did and simply didn't want to acknowledge the shame of it.

Turning over his cards once more and flicking his thumb against the edge of them, he once more tried to bring back the game, avoiding the topic as best as he could. ]

You're important, Cas. That's not changing.

You said that. That I'm important.

[ He frowned at Dean quietly, sadly, and then he reached down, gathering up his cards and raising them toward his eyes. When Dean had thrown in his first pebble, Castiel matched him, and then reached out to turn over the cards. An jack of hearts, a ten of hearts, and a nine of spades. ]

I just worry, Dean. I've seen so much death, been responsible for so much of it. I don't want that to be all I leave behind--death and misery.

[ For a moment, Dean's eyes glanced over the cards, noting the pair and already raising in his mind. But then he looked up, giving Cas a curiously unrelenting look. ]

Is that all you see when you look at me? Death?

It's what I see when I look in the mirror. [ He answered, softly. ] Death, Dean. I couldn't even keep my vessel alive. I killed all those people. I know you saw it.

It's not you. It's me.

[ He already knew they were in the same boat, albeit for different reasons. He just wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. But hell, he'd asked. ]

It's not you. You're not death. You keep making it sound like you chose that path just to hurt people, and I know it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, but you did it for the right reasons. And if you're looking for me to blame you for it, then you're looking for all the wrong things.

For the right reasons.

[ He repeated the words, miserably, but they didn't make him feel any better. He'd had good reason at the time, but that wasn't enough. Dean had as good as said so himself. He tipped his head upward. ]

I'm a child. Just because I can do what I want doesn't mean I should. And I should listen to you. I had a choice, and I chose wrong, and if you say that I should stop, then I should stop. Because you say so. Because I'm like a brother to you.

[ He was paraphrasing. He exhaled. ] A giant baby brother in a trench coat.

Yeah, well-

[ Dean wanted to cringe, wanted to throw down his cards and walk away. He wanted to flip a goddamn table, throw Cas' game away, force him to pay attention and stop wallowing. But he was allowed to wallow, allowed to feel his pain as much as Dean wanted him to get over it.

Most of all, Dean knew he couldn't do anything, and that was the worst. That no matter what he said, it was the wrong thing, wasn't good enough, didn't hit home in the way he kept trying to make it. He was throwing anything at the wall, just to see what would stick and nothing did. Nothing. ]

Do babies know how to play poker?

[ Castiel knew he'd pushed back too hard, gone too far by bringing up the past, and that he'd upset Dean as a result. They had been pushing after all, back and forth. But this felt miserable, like he was giving up; giving up on his own ability to help, or giving up on Castiel. It didn't matter which. Castiel was reminded of Lucifer's words, that what he was doing to them wasn't worthy of them, that he was petty and childish, thrashing about in his pain and doing nothing to try and make it better.

It would take more than watching Dean's agony to piece him back together, but oh, he was trying. The fact that they'd discussed any of this at all was testament to that. ]

What do you want to do? [ He asked. He wasn't the one hiding in the game this time, Dean was, and Castiel was going to be kind enough to let him. ]

[ Dean knew Cas was trying, he knew that both of them were. The fact that they'd managed this conversation at all felt resoundingly important in a way he couldn't put his finger on, as if he'd wrangled importance out of Cas in a way he hadn't expected but now didn't truly know what to do with. It was easier to talk about the mating habit of bees after all, then admit that he didn't know what he was doing and couldn't do enough.

And he couldn't. He had to admit to that and move on.

He couldn't fix this, and that's apparently just what it was going to be. ]

How about we finish up this hand and call it a day, huh?

(no subject)

strangelic - 2016-06-01 23:47 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

kickingand - 2016-06-01 23:50 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only