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I want to--Um...

I feel like life would be improved here if we all played more games, and... [ Kate, why are you making him do this? ] I-I wanted to ask if anyone else had any games that they could teach us. Party games, this time, not card games. Like Twister.

[ He glances off screen cautiously, then looks back, trying to seem more courageous on the subject than he is. ]

Kate thinks that life here would be much improved if we all played more together, and I have to agree with her. Play is important...for the well being of people, especially those who don't have anything else to occupy their time.

So...that is to say, if we could organize a...party, I suppose, everyone would be invited. We could hold it at the bar.

[ Yep, that's it. ]

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Thank you.

And I'm sorry, I know you don't need the reminder.

[ That is literally the first time he's mentioned that night with Dean sober. ]

[ If you wanted him back in the video monitor, that wasn't the way to do it. ]

Gonna take more than a reminder to keep me from drinking. [ if that's what you even mean. ]

What?

[ A long pause. This conversation is going so, so well. And is about to go so much better. ]

I meant... I mean about Twister. I told Kate that we played and she thought it was a good idea.

[ You really wanted that dull echoing silence to get a whole hell of a lot more silent didn't you, because now Dean is very quietly freaking the fuck out while remaining utterly stern. He has half a mind to shut his comm off and walk away now but that would be idiotic, right?

Right.

Dammit. He doesn't even know what that means and he wants to know but he wants to make it stop even more so. ]

Get it out of your system?

[ Wow that sounds... Terrifyingly cold. Castiel is quiet for a moment too, and then he says, softly: ]

I think it would be best to play it with other people. And everyone needs the distraction, not just you and I.

[ It's so tragic what that first statement implies but he doesn't even actually mean it that way. Not any more. ]

[ Oh.

Why.. does that feel like a punch to the face. Why is he not drunk enough. Why is he here, why is he trying, why is this so hard. It's not something Dean wants to acknowledge but it hurts and he clears his throat, sitting back with some random book that's still not in English as if it might finally serve the purpose in saving his soul. ]

Great. Then everyone can go be distracted, and i'll just what- make notes?

Make notes?

[ He's confused, and he doesn't know what he said wrong--except possibly everything. ]

[ There's a long drawn out pause, another, while Dean tries to take it in, attempts to be okay. But it fails, and the sound from that is loud, the sound of something being thrown, the splat of a book hitting the hall, hitting something.

And then another something.

And another---

Excuse Dean, he might need to go offline for a moment - we're experiencing technical difficulties, please remain calm!! ]

[ Castiel doesn't remain calm. He comes looking, landing just on the outside of Dean's dump of abandoned and crushed and unhappy looking books, just in time for one of them to go whizzing past his head.

He rolls his head around in surprise, fear, and then jerks it back. ]

Dean!

[ Except he didn't want you here - he didn't. He wanted to ruin something on his own for just a few minutes, wanted to lay to waste the things in front of him until he felt better. God, to just be by himself for two seconds, to earn the right to break something for even longer than that.

He was going to clean up, he was, but being interrupted takes all the gusto out of his sails, even just as he takes another book and slams it hard into the frame of the bookshelf, shoulders hunched up to his ears, the sound of his name grating against his ears. ]

[ Every single corner of Cas is screaming run away run away, and yet he steps forward instead, steps over the mess of books on the floor, worry pinching at his expression.

He tries to sound reasonable, as he steps into range. ]

Dean, stop.

[ Dean wants to say that Cas shouldn't have shown up here to begin with, shouldn't be banging down these doors before Dean is already grabbing for another book and just throwing, needing to hear the sound it makes when it hits the solidity of the library wall. It's a wonder he hasn't grabbed for the bookshelves and toppled them over yet but he's getting there, working himself up, preparing to go somewhere else to work off steam he no longer has to blow. ]

Leave it alone, Cas.

[ It's bordering on a snarl, his fists balling hard because Dean can't even look this time, won't even come close to making eye contact. He's so desperate for a way to escape that he can't take it, and he turns, levelling the nearest book with a hard kick while he starts to walk away. ]

[ Dean walking away from him doesn't make any sense to Castiel. He stares after him, broken, a little helplessly. Dean never walks away from him, and he's rarely ever ever this angry. Once. One time. So he stares, and he wants to fix it, just the same as he'd wanted to fix it that time. He would give anything in the world to make it better.

All his hopes drop like a stone into the pit of his stomach and Cas despairs, and follows after Dean forlornly, hurries to catch up and lays his hand on his elbow, reaching for the physical connection he hopes Dean still wants, the thing that will soothe that angry inner beast - a touch, from someone who cares. ]

[ Except Dean doesn't know how to take it right now - he doesn't know how to take anything, can't fathom the contact when all it does is ache. Though he's not surprised that Cas chases after him, the touch still catches him like a punch to the gut and he tugs his elbow away before he means to, and then turns suddenly, grabbing for Cas' trench coat. He has half a mind to strike, but it's not Cas that Dean wants to punch in the face and his expression crumbles before he takes a skittering step backwards, laying a hand to Cas' chest and trying to keep distance. ]

I'm coming to your party. Okay? That settled?

[ For one fleeting second when Dean turns on him, Castiel is one hundred percent sure that he's going to get hit. He mentally prepares himself for it, as Dean tightens his fist in his trenchcoat, and then it just flickers away, and Dean pushed him to arm's length, forcing him to stay back.

He stares at him quietly, muted, torn. ]

Did I say something wrong?

[ Not when everything is wrong to begin with.

Dean peels his fingers away and lets his hand hover in the space between them, lips parted with the demand of trying to find the right words to speak. But there's nothing. Nothing but pain and regret and apology and Dean still won't truly look up. He can't find eye contact right now and so the floor is only the most fascinating thing there is, his gaze scattering across it like droplets of water while he hopes to find his own personal savior written across something. Anything.

God, please save him. Please. ]

It's fine.

That's not what I asked.

[ More tersely now, and Castiel stared at the hand that was trying to ward him back, then snapped his gaze back up. His hands curled into fists at his sides and he shook, just a little, frightened and unsettled, wanting to know what he'd done wrong, and how to fix it. ]

Just because I-I... [ Swallowing hard. ] It doesn't mean that things can't go back to how they were. You...being you. And... I don't know, Dean.

I can put aside how I feel as I must, but you can't go on like this.

[ The thing was, he hadn't done anything wrong. He was just being Cas - even if that meant telling Kate what had happened. And likely going ahead and telling that many more people as well. Dean could only guess of the conversation that transpired between them and it terrified him and he just didn't know why. Well- that wasn't true; he didn't want these things coming to light with anyone else when he didn't even understand them himself.

He could forgive him that because he had to, even if it didn't make Dean comfortable in the slightest but it didn't change the fact that he still couldn't stand himself. And there was no way to escape.

Fingers curling into the space between them, Dean slowly pulled his hand away until he was simply standing, chest heaving with stuttered breaths. He still wanted to go off like a rocket, wanted to destroy everything in sight, but he was trying to keep himself still so Cas didn't have to see the rest of his ruination. ]

I told you, it's fine. [ It was the only thing he knew how to say, already trying to turn again, pace it off. ] Just couldn't find what I was looking for.

[ Castiel didn't need to be told to know that Dean was right at the end of his tether, fraying it worse every time he walked back and forth across it. There was nothing he could do now except for intervene, and as much as he knew that this was his fault - or at least suspected - Castiel couldn't just walk away and ignore him. He needed to make this right, or at least normalize it somehow. ]

Then let me help you. Or you can stop...stop tearing around like you think this is going to solve anything, when we both know it isn't.

[ He steps in, closes into that space that Dean has been trying to hold closed between them, open space that can't be breached, in case something should explode because Castiel got too close. ]

Just stop.

Cas-

[ He had already helped enough. More than enough. More than he ever should have, helped with the booze and the meditating and everything and more.

Cas should have abandoned him long ago, given up and thrown away what tangled mess had been left in his care and yet he was still pushing forward all over again and Dean all but stumbled back out of the space that had been stepped into. There had been breathing room between them and now even that was gone and Dean was sure he was suffocating, his jaw set painfully hard. ]

We leave this alone.

[ Because Dean didn't know what else to do, what else to say, what he could possibly give that would solve a single thing. And right now? That seemed like the only option: to abandon it all and throw himself away in the process. ]

[ His expression twisted into pain as Dean broke backward, formed all the more distance between them and kept them apart. Castiel's own hands twitched at his sides with the desire to pull up and reach for Dean and shake him. He wanted to hold him, and tell him that it was alright, that he knew, that he understood that it terrified him because it scared him too.

He stared hopelessly at Dean, sadly, and shook his head. ]

You said that I...that I'm enough for you. If that's true then "this" isn't something that we can abandon. It's a part of us. This is what we are. As friends, as brothers, as... [ He trailed off. ] I need you, and you need me. I can just be enough, I don't have to be anything else. I don't want to...

I know you're angry. I know you're afraid. But I need your help, Dean. If this is going to be made right, I need you to play your part in it, because I...I don't know what to do.

[ In an instant it became so much worse. Where Dean was struggling, suddenly he felt like he was drowning, as if he'd been shoved to the depths where he could no longer swim let alone breathe. He was petrified, his chest seizing up in triumphant fits of nerves, his shoulders curling inward as he tried to find something to look at that wasn't Cas, that wasn't himself, every ounce of his mind lost to the wind.

He wanted to run, to push Cas away and pound the dirt beneath his feet until he'd left his shadows clinging to the heels of his boots, and yet he couldn't move. There was too much fear in it, and Dean found himself soaked in his own terror, in Cas' own assessment of what they were. Because while he was right, Dean just couldn't, he couldn't do it. He couldn't let himself feel what needed to be felt, and he didn't know where to find the happy medium. He swayed one way or the other, never in between and yet now he'd stumbled down the wrong path, only to find himself looking up at the same face he always dreamed on. ]

You think I do? You think i've got a clue? Cas, I don't- [ He shook his head and stared back towards the books, where he'd somehow hoped he'd find answers, a clue to something. ] You already know what you mean to me.

I do. I always have. I know what I mean to you.

[ Well, that was mostly true, but he hadn't known... He hadn't known the specifics. Not the kind of love, specifically, and what it meant to Dean, and his fear--his terror. Castiel didn't know how to help, and he didn't have the answers, and he couldn't even sort himself out emotionally, nevermind had any idea how to approach it in Dean.

But he had to, because Dean wasn't; because Dean didn't know how, and he was struggling with other things, and what had started as a way of helping had just turned into another problem. It was Castiel's responsibility to fix it, fix him, help him. ]

That's why I know that you want to fix this; that we need a solution. Because I can't leave you, but you're not making it easy for me to stay.

If you need to go, Cas-

[ He says it fast, lightening speed, because just get the leaving over with. Just get it the hell over with already, it's going to happen anyway, isn't it? Cas would die, would go, would never return - something would happen, hasn't that always been obvious? And Dean knows Cas isn't being cruel, he's being realistic, and so Dean is offering him his way out, his speedy release, Dean flinging his arm wide to represent just what more the world has to offer than whatever he is anymore.

Because loss is a thing that Dean knows well and it's barreling down the path no matter which way he looks at it. Cas will go, just like everyone goes, and there's nothing Dean can do to keep him here. ]

Dean...

[ God, he's so broken. So broken. Castiel stares helplessly at Dean, not knowing how to address the agony he's being shown. It's easier, that's what this is about. Looking inward is so hard, and Dean wants him to go because it would be easier.

No, Dean is making it hard to stay, but there's still no choice there. Even if there was somewhere else to go, they're physically wound together, bound into one.

Castiel winds his hands into his coat, digging his nails tightly into the fabric. ]

I will never leave you. You can make it--you can make it as hard as you like. you can instruct me to leave, give me no choice, but I will never go of my own free will. Never. Do you understand? I will go for you, I will go if that's what you want, if you paint sigils on the walls to keep me out, but that's-- [ His voice shook. ] --that's what it would take. That's what it would take to get rid of me, and I won't let you.

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