tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; Sunday night.
Rating; PG-13 at least. Pottymouf + religious themes.
Characters; Castiel [

ordered] + Dean Winchester [

shutupsammy]
Summary; Dean has all of the insecurities in the world. The White Witch likes insecurities. Castiel, as per usual, deeply disapproves.
Log;

He'd wait. Because he knew he wouldn't have to wait long-- he said, find me, and Castiel would. Could. He didn't know why, maybe there was some kind of celestial marker on his soul or on his body, the new one he was dragged up and into. Maybe Angels had psychic powers, too. Maybe Dean was just exactly as transparent as everyone treated him like he was.

Either way, he sat in an armchair in the dark corner of their apartment, face pulled into a blank expression, window open even though it was still chilly out. Dean cleaned one of his guns and turned the television off and didn't look up, he only waited for the feel of wind and the sound of rustling feathers that somehow preceded the angels from where he came from.

They needed to talk. Dean knew he would get blamed and told off and chewed out again. But they needed to talk before he exploded. Even if now was a bad time. They hadn't talked since the fight with Alistair.

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As expected, Castiel was there in no time whatsoever, appearing in the corner opposite to Dean. He'd know, from the very second that the Winchester brothers had returned to the City, that things had changed greatly. To each brother individually, and to the relationships they held. And for once, Castiel was left in the dark as to what.

It had become a whole lot clearer after the arrival of the Narnian witch. With a few simple words, she'd managed to bring forth a laundry list of issues that Dean was facing just then. But they were words spoken to the wrong person, and Castiel had intervened. How Dean took that intrusion had yet to be seen. But that was why he was here now. The pair were long overdue for a talk. Even if he was left behind on certain topics.

He didn't bother to say anything; he was sure he didn't need to. Castiel was an expected arrival, after all. Although he moved further in to the room, he made sure to keep his distance from Dean. Something told him it was the right thing to do just then. And then, he was waiting, eyes off to the open window. Right then, it was the only welcoming view he could take.

Dean finished re-assembling the gun again for another forty-five seconds, mostly to give himself the time to collect any nasty comments he wanted to greet the angel with, before the dam opened and his opinions started to unravel themselves. He never knew Castiel's endgame. Castiel had no right to search Dean for his.

He leveled the gun on Castiel, muzzle pointed at the man's heart; the heart of the man he was filling, at any rate. He didn't plan on shooting. It wouldn't do anything except ruin an expensive shirt and waste a bullet Dean didn't have the money to waste. It made Dean's point well enough, though.

"I don't need a babysitter. I don't need a drill sargeant. I don't need a psychiatrist and I don't need a friend."

Castiel's attention was finally drawn back as the assembled gun was pointed toward him. By his gaze hadn't shifted from that window. Not an inch. It didn't take much to realise the implication. But in the same thought, there was also the futility of it. By now, Dean should have been well aware that his orders were the one thing he held above all other commands. He would do whatever it took in order to fill those commands; for better or worse.

"You were doing something that even you would consider foolish, were you in your right mind." There was no accusation in the sentence. Just the simple facts. Something was wrong with Dean, and the angel had no idea what to do about it. This was one of the things that he was so often left clueless about. Human behaviours. And Dean often seemed to provide the perfect example each time. It was just a matter of identifying it now.

"Why did you choose to speak to her?" Emphasis on the 'choose' part. Dean had his brother. He had friends in the City. So why a complete stranger who was clearly dangerous. Already she had half of the citizens in an uproar, and it hadn't taken any time at all to realise that. So why her?

He stared for another moment before shaking his head and lowering the shotgun, sliding it hidden away behind the armchair he sat in. Dean leaned forward, resting his wrists on his knees and staring up at Castiel with an expression not quite welcoming, but not yet a glower. Castiel wasn't the bad guy, not technically. Dean just wasn't sure if he was the good guy, either.

Either way, he wasn't on Dean's side. Who was? Not even Sam these days.

A muscle worked in Dean's jaw for a few seconds as he considered how to reply. What could he say? Why did he choose to speak to her? He'd had a gut instinct that she was the sort of person to avoid; she had a way of speaking Dean recognized. Not a very honest one; rhetoric.

He lied, for the most part.

"I was poisoned. Siren slipped me a slobber roofie. It's probably just still wearing off, that's all."

A Siren? If it had been during the time that Dean was in the City, Castiel was sure that he would have known. There was little else for him to do here than to keep a watch over both of the brothers. No, this had to have happened before he arrived in the City. And if that were the case, "and you believe it took this long to wear off?"

There was a laundry list of other questions that went unasked. What had happened while he was away? Why were he and Sam seemingly avoiding each other? Why was Dean that much more antagonistic toward him? How did Dean know about Anna? But none of these were spoken. Instead, he was forced to keep his focus on the present, and not Dean's past. It wasn't his place to ask anyway. And soon enough, he would know what had happened for himself anyway. Hopefully.

"Dean." And that was it for a few moments. How best to word himself without causing more issues between them? How was he meant to prove that he wasn't a threat right then, regardless of what his future may hold. "Whatever has happened has yet to happen with me." A reminder. Nothing more.

"I am not your 'babysitter'. Or your 'drill sergeant'." Or any of the previously mentioned roles. "But I am still here." And that was as clearly as he was going to put it. If Dean needed to talk, to get himself back on track, then he was willing to take on the task. If it meant keeping the elder Winchester from making a mistake when he wasn't thinking straight.

Okay, lie seen through, but Dean hadn't told the damn thing because it would work or hold any water, he'd told it because that was what Dean did, and they knew that was what he did. Little white lies or whatever they wanted to call them. Just to distract people from the truth or for asking questions when he wasn't ready for them. He sat still for a long moment, just staring up at Castiel with the same vaguely mitrusting expression he'd worn with regard to the angel for days now, frankly worn for everyone he'd met and talked to.

Yeah, maybe he'd get over what Sam'd said one day. And maybe he'd believe there was a tiny piece of truth in every exaggerated behavior just like Sam'd once said there was. Today wasn't the day. This week wasn't the week. And Dean was wholly prepared to spend one long, lonely month angry, because hey, what was a month angry when you'd spent forty years with your life on pause angry, and what was a month when you only had to look forward to going home to wait for news of the end of the world some more.

He had people to save and he didn't know how long he had. And here he was, wasting time dealing with shit caused him by other people, just like the witch had told him. He stood from the chair and moved the steps over to Castiel, never quite getting into his personal space, the same as always, only walking in some wide circle like a scared, noisy little coyote that would look away if the distance between them was ever threatened.

"Not really, no. And I know you're here. And I know that I have worked my butt off because you said 'dance, puppet' and I know I have trusted you and I've told you things that hurt me to tell you and betrayed people to you. And I used to be starting to get angry about that. But right now all I can think about is the fact that at the end of the day the guy standing next to me is my brother, but he don't want me here anymore, not to do what I need to do and not to do what you need me to do. You got any idea how it feels to know your existence on the planet is that pointless?"

Edited 2009-02-23 17:43 (UTC)

His brother then. That was the real cause of all this. Something else had happened while they had been away, and this had been the result of it all. Something that Sam had said or done toward his brother. Castiel's gaze turned to Dean as he made his approach, but soon remained still as the circling began. Eyes on the wall, but attention solely on Dean. Neither of them had anything to be afraid of just then. And the relax of his shoulders, the arms held loosely at his sides, was proof that he didn't come there to harm.

It was with a calmly measured voice that he finally spoke again, after however long that pause had lasted. He meant only to placate and not to antagonise. But with Dean, it hadn't ever been easy to prove his intentions. "Why are you so sure that your brother doesn't want you here?" The idea that Dean's very existence was pointless was one that he avoided discussing just then. Proof would work better than words. But while they were here, he had no way to fix that.

Dean met Castiel's blue eyes for only a moment. It was all he ever could, for some reason, even though he'd faced down bigger, meaner, and louder. It was the piercing quality. Like a sword in the gut whenever the angel disapproved, and he didn't know why he was seeking approval from Cas in the first place, but fuck if he wasn't.

"Because he thinks I'm a liability. He thinks I have issues and they're holding me back, and maybe I do, but as far as I see it, I have a job in two parts. Make up for every day I spent down there and keep him away from your fight before Uriel turns him to salt or whatever you guys do."

There was nothing more than careful observation in his gaze, right then. Any judgements he may have held before arriving had been firmly locked away, for the time being. Right then, he wanted nothing more than to just understand what was going on in Dean's head. He needed to know what was wrong so that a solution could be found. So that Dean could decide on his next step. And Castiel would do all he could to make sure it was the right one.

"The battle isn't just ours to face. You are a part of it." You and your brother. It was left unsaid, though he was certain it was something that didn't need to be voiced. As far as Dean was concerned, it had been about Sam for a long time. Yet another reason why Dean had been chosen above anyone else.

"Do you really think they are good enough grounds to believe he doesn't want you around? You have already faced a lot, together. Why do you hold this in such a different light?" The death of one compared to the death of many. The Winchesters had saved so many lives already, and now they were meant to be working to help save that many more. A planet full. But as far as Castiel was concerned, saving even a single of God's creations was cause for celebration. The scale may be different now, but the reasoning was the same. They were protecting the innocent.

[ooc: ffffff you should've attacked me last night about not replying. /kicks gmail...and lj]

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