for useinsouciant

[singlemantear]

 continued from here.

Dean doesn't get much sleep. He stays in bed, makes sure Cas gets the sleep he needs, but Dean's too keyed up about what he's going to do the next day to get much more than short, fitful bouts of unconsciousness. His dreams are filled with images of anxiety and pain - the face of his brother, a hoard of Croats chasing him, the scorch mark of angel wings across pavement.

As the sun starts to rise, Dean slides out of bed, careful to not wake up Cas, and goes to prepare for what he's gotta do that day. He covers the dining room floor with sheets that will hopefully soak up the blood, he sterilizes the saw and surgical instruments with alcohol he'd gotten at the hospital and gets all the bandages ready. He feels sick but he's got his game face on - determined to do what Cas has asked of him. He isn't thinking beyond the present moment and the one after that and the one after that. He won't think of the future again until after this is over. Cas needs all his attention.

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[useinsouciant]

"I don't know what to be angry at," he admits, hand balling into a fist against his thigh. "God? He's gone. So are my brothers and sisters. Should I be angry at them for abandoning us? Angry at Michael for causing this war? It all seems so futile. There's nothing to be done and I'm left here. Watching my wings burn."

[singlemantear]

"You can be angry at any of them," he says. "All of them. Doesn't matter. Doesn't have to make sense. You can feel however you want."

[useinsouciant]

Cas pushes his face against Dean's neck with a sigh, feeling -- overwhelmed. Upset, frustrated, angry, grateful, all at once. "How do humans deal with multiple emotions at once?"

[singlemantear]

Dean tightens his arm around Cas.

"I'm not the best person to answer that question," Dean says with a snort. "I don't deal with them.

"And, for the record, I don't suggest that method."

Dean just doesn't know any other way to be.

[useinsouciant]

"So then I just -- let them happen?" He knocks his fist against his thigh. He wants badly to hit something, but his stitches are still healing. Itching, as Dean promised, which is a godawful sensation.

"This is why humans fight," he realizes slowly. "When they have no purpose behind the fight, it's because there are too many motions and no outlet. I have the -- the urge to fight something. But I'd undo all your hard work, open the wounds on my back."

[singlemantear]

"Yeah, sometimes they just kinda...boil over," Dean says with a nod. "And you either cry or yell or you hit something.

"Have you ever yelled just to yell? Might help."

[useinsouciant]

"I've cried now. I have a feeling I will cry again.

I might... try yelling. At some point. I have a feeling it will happen more naturally. Forcing it seems -- odd.

Do you do these things, when you're angry? Yell, hit something. Does it help you?

[singlemantear]

"Yeah, I think so," Dean says, shrugging a little. "It feels good at the time. Well...depending on what you hit it may feel bad too. But sometimes you need that. Sometimes physical pain feels better than the other kind."

[useinsouciant]

He's never heard Dean talk like this. It feels so much more raw and vulnerable than he's ever been, and it's breaking Cas's heart. Making him hurt for Dean, almost as badly as the physical pain.

He moves his hand from Dean's shoulder to the back of his neck, wanting to kiss him again but not sure how it would be received. "You are so broken, Dean Winchester," he says, soft and sympathetic. Not judgmental at all. "And I wish I had a way to fix you. To fix the way you hurt."

[singlemantear]

Dean tenses and snorts in derision. All he hears is pity. All he feels is like the fuck up his Dad always expected him to be.

"Yeah, well, get used to it," he says. "Cause I'm stuck like this."

He's not gonna get any less broken at this point. It's just going to get worse. And he doesn't need Cas or anyone else to fix him.

[useinsouciant]

"I'm not saying it to make you angry, I promise. Perhaps... know that I'm here. If you need to yell. If yelling at nothing isn't helpful and you need to aim your anger at something."

[singlemantear]

"That's fucked up, Cas," Dean says. "I'm not gonna yell at you for no reason just to make myself feel better. That's like...abuse or something."

Dean's yelled at enough people for no good reason when he can't control his anger. Sam was always good at calling him out for that shit. He doesn't want to do that to Cas - although he's sure he has in the past and probably will in the future. But he doesn't want Cas to be okay with it.

[useinsouciant]

"Oh." He hadn't realized it was fucked up. Not really. It was just something Dean did, and sometimes Sam fussed at him for it, but it just... happened. "I'm still learning," he says slowly, "What is -- fucked up, and what isn't. What's normal and what isn't. I've observed a lot of humanity but never really received an education on good and bad other than Heaven's version of it."

[singlemantear]

Dean sighs. He knows he's not the best example of humanity and dealing with your shit.

"Well just don't let someone yell at you for no reason, alright?" Dean says, the sharp tone in his voice gone. "Especially me."

Dean can be a dick, especially to the people he cares most about. He hates that about himself.

[useinsouciant]

"I'll do my best to remember that." He wipes his arm across his eyes again, trying to catch all the stray tears. "And I'll do my best to do the same. To not yell at you with no reason. Though I'm not entirely sure I can predict my emotions in the coming days."

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Let's go back inside. I think this will burn itself out."

[singlemantear]

Dean nods.

"Alright," he says, willing to do whatever Cas wants right now. He'll come out and check on it later to make sure it's out.

"You want a drink? I could use a drink."

[useinsouciant]

"Yes." He sounds relieved at the offer. "Yes I think I very much would like a drink." He knows what Dean means. Something to drink is water, or the flat soda from the pantry. A drink means alcohol and Cas feels very much like he needs that right now.

[singlemantear]

"Drinks it is," Dean says as he wraps an arm around Cas's shoulders (careful of his healing wounds) and leads them inside. There's a bottle of whiskey in the pantry.

"Have a seat. Drink's on the house today."

He smirks like he made some great joke before he grabs two glasses from the cabinet and pours them each a couple fingers of the alcohol and sets one in front of Cas before he sits across from him.

[useinsouciant]

"On the house means free, yes?" he asks, looking pleased at himself for remembering as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, pulling his drink over to him. He leans forward a little, to avoid bumping his shoulders against the back of the chair, and it's almost comfortable.

"Is this meant to taste like something in particular?"

[singlemantear]

"Yes it does," Dean says, impressed that Cas remembered that piece of slang.

"Although, I suppose nowadays everything is on the house if you can find it."

The finders keepers economy.

"Good whiskey tastes smoky, maybe a little caramelized, oak, vanilla, pepper. With the underlying alcohol taste of course. This stuff is cheap so it kinda tastes like those things. Mostly burnt oak."

He takes a sip. Dean's never drank much good whiskey anyway. He'll take the burn and the numbing anyway he can get it.

[useinsouciant]

Cas sips at his own, like Dean does. Apparently you're not supposed to drink it all at once, like you do with water. It... certainly tastes like burnt something. Or burning, rather, and he coughs a little as it goes down. "And people drink this willingly. On a regular basis."

[singlemantear]

Dean huffs out a laugh.

"I told you, it's an acquired taste," he says before he takes another large sip. Dean's been known to drink faster than this but they're sitting and enjoying a drink, he's not downing shots at a bar or drinking by himself. Today's about Cas's pain, not his own.

[useinsouciant]

"Acquired is certainly a word for it." He takes a slightly longer sip, like that will help somehow, but it doesn't.

"And if you drink enough of this, you will eventually become intoxicated. Which feels like... what, exactly?"

[singlemantear]

"Sorta depends on your level of intoxication," Dean says. "Warm at first. A little loose and floaty. Happy. Calm maybe. Numb. Like there's nothing you gotta worry about in the world.

"Some people get belligerent, but I think I'm a fun drunk."

Dean grins.

[useinsouciant]

"Calm and numb sound... good." That sounds ideal, right now. Calm and not having to feel anything for a little while, emotionally. Like the pills do for him physically. "I'd like to not have any worries in the world."