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← BACKWARDS

credemuscras:

                    I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we are in the middle of an apocalypse.

          [ put your feathers back down, cas; he’s a sleepy human. ]

« ———— ├ ᗪ ╰☆╮ ᙡ ┤———— »

                        ‘  —————- …

                no. i’m not. thanks for the rescue memo, big guy.  ’ 

                          (  he plucks himself off the bed, back SORE, because —- damn;
                              do they have quite the luck with ’ comfortable ’ motels, and strolls
                              to pour himself some cold coffee,  regardless of the news’ gravity.  )

            ‘  you gonna  stand there an’  look cynical all day ?
               'cause i’d rather you don’t; i’m wearin’ shorts and
                              this is gettin’ creepy quickly.  ’ 

credemuscras:

                    Sam said he doesn’t mind if I wait here until both of you wake up.

                    And besides, you always make me wait until you’ve slept to tell you bad news.

                 ‘  …  yeah, i’m gonna have a talk with sam.

            you’ve got bad news ? ’s it the ’ spilled wine on the
            carpet ’  kinda bad  that can  wait for  me to have a
                    coffee or an APOCALYPSE kinda bad ?  ’ 

                              whatever it is, you are wrong.

                              i’m super impressive.

credemuscras:

          [ dean’s words are like ice to his heart, and he pauses. of course. castiel’s right, after all— in so many ways, dean and sam kept him around because castiel was useful. at the end of the day, dean and sam will always just be dean and sam. there isn’t any room for outsiders. and castiel isn’t bitter, isn’t angry about it, because it’s the truth. it’s time for cas to move on. he no longer belongs to the winchesters; he can no longer protect them. ]

                    ‘Angel radio’ has begun to play on a different station, I’m afraid. I am no more celestial than you, at the moment.

                    Believe me, if there was anything I could do to help, it would already be done.

          [ he turns his head to look back into the store window. cas won’t get the jacket, even if he manages to save up money in the future. it’s a reminder of what he was, not where he falls at present. cas wants nothing more than to return, to find metatron and rip him into pieces, restore heaven back to the way it was. but cas can’t do it without his grace. ]

          [ if there’s ever a moment to let go of the past, it’s now. ]

                    I won’t hold you up any longer; I wish you luck in the future, Dean.

                  (  his senses  shake with alert,   a previously  wandering,   drifted  glance
                      sparking  upwards —- his  eyes  dazzle  lively,  though  this  attention
                      is all drained into  this  CONFUSION  suddenly  catching him off guard.
                      his word choice …   that was it,  wasn’t it ?  whether it’s true or not,  he
                      resonates with vibes from his good friend that tie guilt into his stomach
                              and a ticking time for, what it feels like, a decisive moment.  )

                                         ‘  cas ———  ’

                (  that should do it, right ?  he doesn’t even know what he SAID,  let
                   alone what to say  n o w  to avoid any irreparable choices. maybe
                   if he’d paid  more attention,  read better between the words,  dean
                     wouldn’t be in the position of having to pinpoint the issue’s core.

           dean winchester is not an open book,  but he’s not socially  & emotionally
           inept.  he doesn’t need TOO much to decipher that castiel’s clipped wings
           come with an array of impossibilities  &  drowning sorrows,  none of which
                               the hunter’s really done much to counterattack.  

                             ——- he’s been idly staring for a few moments now.  )

                ‘  you don’t have to go.  ’

credemuscras:

          [ a fierce streak of adoration hits castiel square in the chest as dean speaks, and he drops his head again, eyes sparkling. despite everything, despite all that will be thrown at their way, dean will forever and always be dean. ]

                    no, i suppose you won’t.

          [ but there’s a more pressing question on the table. ]

                    why did you come find me? it’s not like i’m much help to you anymore.

          [ cas is surprised how even his voice comes out despite how shattered he feels inside, speaking those words aloud. his grace, his essence was stolen from him. he feels hollow, empty, split in half. it’s like he’s walking around without his heart, like the stars in the universe have gone out. ]

                   (  bitter poignancy — it spikes at his throat. there are so many factors in that one sentence that leave dean fiddling in his own footing, debating on his choice of words & the genuineness behind them. but, if anything, he hasn’t really ever abstained himself from direct speech & bluntness, no matter how hurtful it risked to be.

                there is a breezing breath, eyes ascended at an equal level.  )

                            ‘  i didn’t.
                 actually, i thought you went to find me.  ’

                  (  while it’s nothing of a particular emotional package, the difficulty of that sole confession is enough to put him off from trying to provide some aid for the fallen seraph’s second statement. this time, his gaze tumbles down.  )

                            ‘  i prayed to you. that’s why —— y'know, i thought —- …  ’

         (  a snort & he swipes a thumb across his nose, head shaking briefly.  )

                      ‘  guess you lost your angel radio subscription too, huh.  ’

cas;;

          [ despite castiel knowing and suspecting the answer before dean speaks it, it still breaks something deep inside the ex-angel to hear it spoken aloud. selfless, beautiful, gentle sam laying on his deathbed while castiel is unable to do a damn thing. because he was selfish— because he was stupid. ]

          [ his fingers tighten into fists. he wants to go with dean, go see him, help in anyway he can, but that voice in the back of his head reminds him that he’s already done enough. ]

                    i—‘m sorry. i wish there was more i could do.

                    dean. what are you doing here?

              his eyes collapse once more, fingers finding & fiddling with his phone,
       the constant object of his attention ever since he left the hospital. because,
       just in case, he doesn’t want to miss any calls —– for the better or worse.

                               the streak along his lips gets broken through a
                         woebegone hook at the corner of his mouth, a puff
                         smoked through his nostrils, with a defiant irony.

                                                ❝ sam’s in the hospital a few blocks away.
                                        i couldn’t —— ’m not gonna sit around an’ listen
                                        to a bunch of a-holes in in gowns tell me that my
                                        brother’s life’s in god’s hands, all ’m sayin’. ❞

cas;;

          [ he’d rather not talk about this, but he hasn’t seen dean in so long, and he owes him something. the ex-angel drops his gaze and fingers the hem of his shirt nervously, a new habit he’s picked up since the fall. ]

                    things have been quiet. i’ve managed to stay— under the radar.

          [ because it’s the best thing he can do. cas has ruined enough already; no sense in continuing to try to fix what will just continue to fall apart. ]

                    what about you? how is sam doing?

                     one plain nod & an amass of his lips in a tight line is what falls off
             him as a reply. even if it weren’t for fallen seraph’s gimmicks & skimpy
             response, he figures no one wants an idle chatter on their mistakes.

                                         but now’s dean’s time of swallowing a lump in his throat.

                     briefly so, he variants for a LIE. maybe it would grow as a weight lifter
         not only for the other, but for the winchester himself. but dean can’t be deluded.

                                        ❝ he’s, uh ——– …
                      he’s not …   gettin’ better, cas. ❞

cas;;

          [ it’s almost as if he was expecting that deep, familiar voice, and cas tilts his head down, a slight smile twitching at his lips. he doesn’t turn, instead raising his eyes back up to stare at dean in the reflection of the store window. ]

                    perhaps. i would have to steal it, even if it was, anyways.

          [ now he turns, searching dean’s gaze out immediately. ]

                    dean. it’s good to see you.

                             ❝ better keep away from breakin’ the
         law. you’re already teeth deep in trouble without
         havin’ to get lined up at some station for theft. ❞

                            a pause. he is willed to let his regard roam
            for answers to a lot of questions that have only piled
            up since the last time he’s been in his company, but
            his sight breaks at his feet instead.

                               ❝ yeah… how’s survival against the crazy family goin’ ? ❞

cas;;

          [ he stands by that glass window, staring straight into the store at that long trenchcoat hanging on one of the racks. the color is a bit off, but cas wonders, for a moment, if he could haggle the storekeeper into letting him take it. ]

                  ( he feels like he shouldn’t disrupt the
         longing  moment,  but  his  priorities  lie  in
         getting a  hold  of  the  fallen  angel,  not  in
         permitting him to exploit his fashion sense. )

                       ❝ i don’t think that’s your color. ❞