Hey! This is based off in the Awesome esp. of Supernatural 'The End' in the world of 2014! Hope ya'll like a bit of pain, Reviews are welcome!
'Look at me…'
Blue eyes stared at his back silently. Castiels mind was a fog, the drugs in his systems slowly trying to drag him back down, keep him in the flow of emptiness and relaxation. Blood shot eyes, lids heavy with the need to know, with the need to feel something kept him focused.
'Look at me…'
His body felt like a dead weight. His bones were made of melt, stiff and refusing to bend to his need yet his hand, steady and limp rose from his stained covered sheets, reaching out to that back he looked upon, watching in a haze as a worn green jacket was shrugged onto those shoulders that he had bit into just moments ago.
Yes, that's was this was now. Just mindless sex to feel something, to give something that could never be his again. Castiel was getting ready to sleep, his fingers rolling the blunt he had just taken a hit from, letting the strong smoke fill his lungs until they burned before letting it pass through his chapped lips. He felt better when he was high; he felt nothing which was better than feeling pain and sadness. The beads in his doorway moved and his eyes glanced to find him standing there, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, head bowed down letting the golden brown spikes of his hair glow in the candle light.
Castiel could only smile at him, a small sad smile as he sat up, his fingers grabbing his linen shirt, pulling it over his own shoulders, his ears picking up the footsteps of his guest moving closer. He knew what was coming. It happened every now and then and always the same way.
No words were spoken, just the sounds of skin against skin, the movement of his sheets and clothes that were taken away in need to be bare. Soft little gasps filling the cold air as Castiel threw his head back, eyes tightly shut against the pressure pushing into him. Pale hands gripping freckled shoulders, holding on as his hips moved, rising and falling, taking him deeper, wanting him to touch his soul that was shattered so long ago. Deeper, Castiel wanted him to fill him with the thick essence of need in the pit that once held his grace that he willingly gave up, that he let go and watch fade away until he was left hallow and broken and with no one to guide him.
They don't kiss, he tried once. Pale arms wrapped around those tan shoulders, pulling him closer until their chest touched, warm skin pressed upon one another and Castiel dipped his head down, letting his lips seek out the other but they met his cheek, his heart giving a painful squeeze at the refusal. He didn't need to tell Castiel, he could read him like an open book. Green eyes looked away before settling back upon him, hard eyes filled with lust and anger. He didn't want Castiel to kiss him anymore. Didn't want what Castiel begged to give, that knowledge sank Castiel deeper into his depression and made him reach for more drugs, more pills to replace the bitter truth.
He did not love him anymore.
Yet Castiel tried, every time to prove himself wrong. Every time he found his Fallen angel, Castiel took him with open arms, let him undress, touch him, trace him with dirty fingers until Castiel was trembling and aching under him. He counted every small kiss he was given upon his body, feeling those lips he use to love to watch open in a grin, let out the sound of laughter that made his heart flutter years ago. Those lips touched him, his shoulder, his chest, over the scars of the banishing seal he craved into his flesh that one day. For these moments Castiel let his drug reduce mind trick him into believe he loved again, that this time when he took Castiel, he would whisper his name into his ear. He would make a sound that would make the world better even if it truly was going down in flames outside.
But it was all in vain.
He rolled Castiel onto his hands and knees, taking his spot behind him and Castiel made no sound didn't even look over his shoulder to watch him loom over. What was the point now? He would not see the heat of lust and need in his eyes, just the emptiness; dark green eyes watching his pale body take him for what? Castiel didn't even know anymore. Bowing his head to the sheets, Castiel felt his eyes burn, his mind cursing at himself. The blunt he smoke was starting to wear off, letting him feel again and the first emption to take hold was this. Those fingers he loved to touch, to lace with his own. Fingers he knew were covered in blood of monsters he had struck down, in demons he had tortured for information but could be so gentle when handling others, like his brother. Those fingers gripped his black hair tight and tipped his head down lower causing his chap lips to frown, teeth to dig into his lower lip to stop the tears that wanted to fall. Castiel was just a warm body for him to use, to pound away his rage, his sorrow and his disappointment and Castiel…
He let it happen.
Now it was over, Castiel laid in his bed, his body covered in sweat and seed, spent and boneless and he watched in silence as his guest tied his shoes, already redressed and preparing to leave. This was normal, he never stayed anymore. Why would he? He didn't want to curl himself around Castiel, hold him close and tuck him under his chin and keep him safe. No, Castiel lost that right, he failed him in the worse way and this was his punishment. He let this man's brother slip away and now this man couldn't look at him. He was suppose to lay there and take another drag of his freshly rolled joint, to let his body go back into the numbness of his own world but the need inside of his heart, the need to feel like something else beside…this.. Besides this empty shell of a body he was reduce too. He reached out and touched him; let the back of his palm touch that green jacket, knuckles brushing at the worn fabric wanting to feel the warmth of his body heat.
Castiel felt the man stiffen and pause in his tying. Watched as his shoulder began to sag down and his head turn, finally looking upon him and Castiel couldn't keep his face blank, couldn't help the plea in his blood shot eyes. He traced the man's features, taking everything in once again, that stubborn chin, pouty lips and freckles nose. He took it all in and with his own blue eyes; he asked the one thing he prayed for.
The sound of his hand hitting the bed sheet was louder than any thunderstorm Castiel every watched. He looked down at his half curled fingers, not wanting to watch once again as he left, see him turn his back to Castiel and walk away, leaving him used, broken and alone. When his guest was long gone, when the beads in his door way no longer moved, Castiel finally broke. Lifting his hands, he looked at his palms and everything inside of him came crashing down. Covering his face, he tilted his head back and let out a broken sob, wanting to disappear. Wanting once again that he was strong enough to end this pointless life and simply be done with it all and then hating himself a little more knowing he couldn't do it, not when the man he loved was still alive.
Castiel couldn't leave him… No matter how much Dean hated him.