Title: Lover I Don't Have to Love
Pairing: Destiel, slight Wincest
Warnings:Drug Use, 2014!verse
Castiel let the needle drop, cracking as it hit the wooden floor next to his bed, as his eyes rolled back in his head, the noise melted into the distant background. This was what made every moment of pain worth it, make the fall something forgotten. This moment of high and almost angelic used to do it on occasion, just enough to remember what it feels like.
Now he never lets it leave him.
He knew that as a human, eventually this kind of life between drugs and liquor would most certainly kill him. Not quickly, but painfully slow, as it dragged the last years of life out of him, like the steady drop of sand in an hourglass.
He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He d just take another pill to remove the pain, until his heart beat that last bit more.
If he even managed to live that long. What with supply runs filled with croatoan traps and demons trying to hunt them down. None of it mattered anymore. The whole world was dead, and the ones that tried to tell themselves otherwise were just corpses, the lights had just been left on, on their way out.
He opened his lips as he lay back on his bed, his head hitting the useless and lumpy pillow that already yielded itself on the firm mattress. He wanted to declare to heaven, to the now empty sky, that he d given up, that he wanted to go back home now. But the words never escaped his lips. It d be like telling a druggie, that heroin was bad for you. They no longer really gave a shit, only left him to chase after that precious high.
He sighed to himself, wondering where the woman was that should be distracting him right now. He remembered her entering the cabin with him, and even the blunt they d shared, but he couldn t remember-
Dean had scared her off into preparing, telling Cas that he d need to be sober, or at least close, for the mission they were going on. Just a simple supply run that he wasn t even really needed on. He d gone two months without going out, how could Dean not manage without him. He was all but useless anyway, even when all that he d taken that day was a ciggarrette and a beer.
Now was worse. Heroin and whiskey weren t exactly great ways to prepare for a mission. Or maybe it was?
He was hapless and hopeless, and he really wished he d never fallen. It was like cancer he supposed. You know you re going to die, you feel sick and tired, and like life doesn t even matter anymore. But you just live through it, try to break past the evil sickness. Too cowardly to just end it.
Maybe that s why Dean brought him on these missions. Why he handed Cas the gun so many years ago and taught him how to shoot. Why Dean had been the one to hand over the drugs.
Maybe Dean wanted him to kill himself, two afraid to do it himself, to end his fallen angels suffering.
Not that Dean really cared anyway.
All Dean cared for was Sammy. But Sam was dead now, or being mind raped by an angel so evil, god swallowed his pride and cast him aside. So Dean continued in trying to kill Lucifer. It wasn t about saving Sammy anymore; no, it was about ending him. Ending the suffering. That was all Dean cared about doing anymore.
Dead inside except for that final piece.
Cas laughed bitterly at a memory of himself and Dean lying here together. Dean had climaxed with his brother s name on his lips, and Cas had laughed at him right then at that moment.
Dean stopped coming to his cabin after that.
No one would ever replace Dean s little brother. The best anyone could offer to Dean was a warm body to press into. Maybe it was easier for Dean to forget Sam when his hands were gripping soft breasts instead of a hard chest.
Now all they could hope for was that Dean and Lucifer killed each other. For him and Sammy to go to heaven together. Or Hell.
And wasn t that a comforting thought.