Title: And I will Let You Down
Pairing: eventual Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17 or M overall, this chapter is PGish.
Warnings: Language and Drug Use
A/N: Here is the next segment. I know the story hasn't really progressed much, but it will in the next chapter. I kinda deleted most of the ending of this story, I kinda felt like it needed something better, so if you want to see anything happen, tell me.
Enjoy reading! Thank you very much.
Dean sat there and rocked the angel back and forth, his knees growing numb from the cement floor underneath him. Castiel's eyes were lifeless, but mirth seemed to linger around the edges of his mouth, his lips turned up in a small smile. Mirth at what, Dean hadn't a clue. The house was silent around them and he knew he had to do something, but right now, all he wanted to do was press the angel against his chest in hopes that everything would be alright.
"You idiot." Dean whispered, the words muffled by Castiel's hair which was tickling his face.
Castiel's hands moved and pressed against Dean's biceps in a feeble attempt to lean back. But the hunter had no desire to loosen his grasp so Castiel was forced to speak into his neck, his soft breath ghosting across Dean's skin, causing a tingling sensation as it warmed the flesh. "I am not an Idiot. I am an angel of the Lord, Dean."
A pain smile spread across Dean's lips as he listened for one of the other men in the house to come back inside. He didn't want to leave Castiel alone to get get help. "I know. You are feared and respected." The body in his arms froze at his words and Dean hesitated, glancing down at the messy hair covering Castiel's face, wondering if what he had said was bringing back unpleasant memories. "Why, Cas?" He asked, loosening his grip so he could pull Castiel's face from the hiding spot against his neck.
"You wouldn't understand." The deep voice rumbled as the glassy, blue eyes watched Dean's facial movements. Castiel's head was tilted to the side, and his lips were still smiling as if laughing at his own private joke. "The best I can describe it is that all these years of living everything has been dulled. I'm old, so old. I perceive things differently than you do, Dean. And now, I've been thrown into things I can't quite understand in hopes that I'll catch up to things that you've known your entire life. With this medicine in this amount of dosage, everything is numbed for me. It's faded. Everything I feel isn't all there anymore. It's restrained. The nerve receptors in my brain and body are not working at full capacity. Hindered by the medicine. I feel like I'm flying, or the closest thing I can get to it while having my wings pinned to my back. Bound by an invisible force holding them to the ground. In this sated state, I do not feel. I am just living." Closing his eyes, Castiel let out a little sigh, placing one of his hands over his heart, feeling the erratic beating. "It feels amazing, Dean. For once, I feel fine. I feel... nothing."
It was hard for Dean to keep his face impassive as he saw his best friend talk about himself that way. The desire to feel nothing. The desire to rid himself of anything that would remind him of the past six months. Ridden from his body while he felt like he was floating, flying on clouds. An escape from the emotions, pain, and human troubles that constantly afflicted him. To feel dead inside, emotionless, numb. So numb that nothing would ever hurt him again. He was coping with the newness the situation he was in brought about. Hating every second that he was forced to stay on the ground instead of taking his rightful place as a powerful being. For many the yearning to feel nothing was great, though few achieved such a state. Castiel achieved it by the improper use of medicine.
The opening of a front door and the slam of the screen door brought Dean away from thoughts, realizing that he had been staring into the depth's of Castiels unfocused eyes. Tearing his gaze away, Dean looked out of the panic room and down the hallway.
"Hey! Sam? Bobby?" Dean called out, loud enough for anyone on the first floor to hear him. Dean pulled Castiel back against him, feeling his legs protesting at the uncomfortable position they were in. He shivered slightly from the sweat that transferred onto the skin of his neck from Castiel's forehead. Loud steps came down the stairs of the basement and the hunter couldn't help but compare it to a stampede of antelope. Sam came around the corner and his brow furrowed when he saw the positions Castiel and Dean were in. The hunter cradling the angel in his arms. One kneeling on the floor while the other sat, his limbs not responding to the hug that Dean had him in. "He took the rest of the pills. Does Bobby have Ipecac? If not, then salt and water."
Sam nodded, stepping over the threshold and into the room. He crouched down next to his brother and ran his hand through Castiel's hair, gently prying the angel's head from the crevice of Dean's neck. The blue eyes focused on the younger man and Castiel almost seemed to grimace at the sight of Sam. "The boy with the demon blood."
"That's over now, Cas." Sam muttered, taken aback slightly by the terms their friend used to greet him.
Castiel nodded, tilting his head to the side, "It will never be over." Another soft chuckle come from Castiel, mirth showing faintly behind his eyes as the reverberation of his joyous noise echoed ominously around the metal room.
A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of Dean's stomach as Sam stood and began backing out of the room, glancing at Dean with worry prominent in his facial features. He watched as Sam strode down the hallway and thundered up the stairs again, moving around the house in order to find Bobby and the items he would need for Castiel's homemade detoxification.
"I never expected it to be so lonely as a human. So cold. You live, eat, sleep, procreate, die. There isn't much worth living for, is there? Some have art, other's find love, while several help strive to make the world a better place. But there are those few who have nothing. Go through life with out a purpose. It seems like everyone turns their back on one another." The angel sighed, raising a hand and running it through his hair, damp with sweat from the overdose.
Dean shook his head, shifting so the weight of his body was on his toes, giving a break to his sore knees. "Everyone has something worth fighting for. That's what drives us to live."
Moving his arms, Castiel leaned back, resting his shoulder blades against the rails of the bed. His left hand reached out to wrap around his left wrist, closing his eyes as he felt his pulse, the blood rushing through his veins by the beat of his heart. "I've always known that humans were fragile, but I've never understood. Not until now."
"I don't know, you'd be pretty surprised by what we can do even if we are 'fragile'." Dean replied. The noise from the floor above them had stopped and Dean wondered what could possibly be holding Sam up. Each second that went by meant more of the medicine was dissolving in Castiel's stomach and moving out into his body. There was no way he wanted them to go to the hospital, but if enough time lapsed without improvement, then they would just have to go.
The smile on Castiel's face grew wider as he glanced over at the door to the metal closet, the angel sigil now written in dried blood still residing there. "Oh, I know Dean. I was a fool and worried for you. Especially since I had rebelled for you. Protecting Michael's vessel. Granted, I was more worried for myself when you sent me back to heaven with all the angels who felt betrayed by my actions and commanded to kill me for deceiving them."
Dean's breath stuttered at Castiel's words, the revealing the truth behind what his action had caused the angel. Remembering the first boneshattering blow to the wall, Castiel's fists balled in the front of his jacket. Through his haze of pain Dean saw anger, but something lurking further bellow that, some where hidden in the angel's eyes. Deeper than the betrayal from Dean, that he would do something to careless that could jeopardize the whole future they had been working together for. Beneath that, Dean could see he was upset, returning to heaven and being chased after by his own brethren. Brethren that were commanded to kill him. But of course, Castiel couldn't dwell on himself for a little while, he had to make sure the hunter wouldn't get into anymore trouble. Those emotions fueled Castiel to land blows on Dean. And he knew he fully deserved it.
Two pairs of feet tromped down the stairs and Dean turned, watching as Sam and Bobby appeared around the corner, necessary items in their hands.
"Alright," Dean said and Castiel turned to glance down the hallway to see the other men coming towards them. "Let's get you up on that bed." Castiel placed his palms on the old mattress and hoisted himself up, sliding so that he was sitting on the bed.
Sam and Bobby entered the room and placed the items on the small table in the room, dragging it over next to Dean. Bobby placed a large bucket on the floor next to the bed.
"So whose gonna wait with him?" Bobby asked, pouring some water out of the pitcher and into the large cup they brought with them.
"I'll do it." Dean volunteered, feeling like the drugged up state Castiel was in was completely his fault. He was too tired to realize that he had left the medicine unattended last night, allowing for Castiel to take what was left in the bottle. If anyone deserved to hear Castiel vomiting for the rest of the day. It would be him.
Bobby handed Dean the cup and the hunter smelled it and jerked away, noticing the overpowering stench of salt. "Just keep making him drink it until he throws up. Should do the trick."
"Sure, Bobby." Dean replied, letting the cup rest on the table as he turned back to Castiel. The other two exited the room, mostly closing the panic room behind them.
Dean held the cup out to Castiel who took it in both hands, looking down at the hazy liquid that resided in the cup. A quick expel of air left his lips in a huff of annoyance as he looked back up at Dean. "Drink up, Cas." Dean replied to his questioning glare and when Castiel didn't move in the next few minutes, Dean placed two fingers underneath the cup and lifted, guiding it to Castiel's lips.
A frown of sympathy crossed Dean's face as Castiel sputtered at the vile taste of the water combined with salt. But dutifully drank all of it, the water overflowing and leaking down his chin. Taking the cup from his friend, Dean poured some more of the murky liquid into it, handing it over to Castiel who seemed to almost gag from the smell of the salt. Again, with Dean's direction, Castiel began to drink the substance. His face easily betraying what he thought of the salt water. Although Dean noticed that not once did Castiel question what he was doing, what Dean was making him do. Not once did he ask why he was drinking such foul liquid. Instead, he trusted Dean.
About halfway though the third cup, Castiel shoved it away from him, spilling the salt water over the floor as he hunched over, the muscles in his back flexing as a pitiful moan erupted from his lips. Dean grabbed the bucket, placing it in Castiel's hands. He held onto it, his body heaving, him mind and body wanting to expel the salt for fear that it was trying to be poisoned. Castiel's eyes were wide, his face sweaty and his cheeks were becoming reddened, contrasting with his pale skin. A gagging noise was heard, and Dean turned away, not wanting to see the angel vomiting. But he kept his hand on Castiel's back, feeling the sweat soaking through the thin shirt as he rubbed soothing circles.
It seemed to last for hours. And when Castiel wasn't expelling the contents of his stomach, he was dry heaving, breath coming out in short gasps and a fast, rumbling exhale, and with each heave a sickening gagging noise wracked through Castiel's body. He was panting, lost and delirious in the sickness and Dean just murmured words of comfort that went upon lost ears. The angel's body was trembling, the acid from his stomach must have been burning his throat, making it raw from the recent activities.
Whimpering, Castiel placed the bucket on the floor and turned, laying down on the dirty and bare mattress, curling up, his arms wrapped around his knees. It was then that Dean built up the courage to see what was in the bucket. The amount of vomit in the pail was relatively little to the heaving activity Castiel had gone through. It made sense though, the angel hadn't eaten anything that morning, all that was left was the salt water and the stomach acid. But Dean could see fourteen round, orange pills. They were smaller than the original size, and some of the orange coating had faded. Cursing internally, Dean pushed the bucket under the bed so they wouldn't have to look at it but the smell of sickness seemed to linger around the room.
Turning towards his friend, Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's sweaty, dark hair. The angel took no notice, his blue eyes staring across the room at the white symbol painted on the wall. He hadn't meant to put the angel though so much pain and make him so uncomfortable, but with the position he was in, there wasn't anything else he could do. Dean knew that Castiel would see that eventually.
After a few minutes, Castiel pushed himself up and reached for the bucket, pulling it out if It's hiding place. His body was shaking again, weak from the exertion of being sick, his limbs trying to hold him up. His back hunched as a his body heaved, his muscles rolling in his physical structure with the movement. A weak sounding cough left Castiel's mouth and he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
If possible, when Castiel spoke, his voice was deeper, lower, the edges of sickness wearing it away, his rough throat making the words come out raw and gravely. "Don't ever do that again."
Dean found himself pinned to the spot by clear blue eyes. It seemed that clarity was coming from the illness and Dean wondered how long it would last.
The angel's arm gave out and Castiel collapsed back onto the bed, a soft sigh emitting from his lips before he closed his eyes. Dean smoothed down some of Castiel's hair, the stench of sickness that lingered in the room felt overwhelming to him and he was about to stand and leave for some air when Castiel's hand encircled his wrists. Glancing down he saw Castiel's eyes on him, not as clear as before.
"Stay." Castiel whispered, giving a small tug to Dean's wrists.
It took a few seconds for Dean to respond, but he nodded, hoisting himself up from his knees, feeling the painful burn as blood rushed to the ignored limbs. AS he got used to the odd sensation in his legs, Dean sat down on the bed, swinging his legs up on the mattress and dropping down onto an elbow, his torso hovering over the pad. He then adjusted himself on the cot, laying down when Castiel scooted to one side of the mattress. Once Dean was comfortable he noticed the angel's shivering and opened his arm's inviting Castiel to take his body heat and warmth from him. The angel seemed to evaluate the move Dean made, watching with his wide eyes before he shifted forward, pressing a cold hand to Dean's warm chest, his fingers smoothing down a small wrinkle on his shirt. Soon, Castiel followed his hand, pressing his body against Dean's, forcefully shoving a knee in between the hunter's legs. His arms were folded, his hands pressed against Dean's chest while his elbows rested on the human's lower abdomen. Slight pressure from the arms caused Dean to shift, his abdominal muscles moving against Castiel's arms.
While Castiel was pressed against Dean in every possible way, his whole body comfortable and in place next to the hunter, he had no clue what to do with his head. So the angel let it hover, eyes drifting closed, enjoying the warmth from Dean. With a small chuckle that seemed inappropriate for the severity of the situation, Dean moved his arm from underneath him, placing it underneath Castiel's head so he was resting on the hunter's bicep. He threaded his hand into Castiel's hair and gently pushed the angel's face against his neck, feeling the soft breath warm against his skin. A soft moan of approval left Castiel's lips and vibrated against Dean's skin, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to rise and a tingling feeling spread across his skin.
As they lay their, side by side, pressed against each other, they finally felt at peace. Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist, pulling him in closer against him, before he relaxed and began to rub lazy circles lightly against Castiel's lower back.
"Don't ever do that again. I don't want to lose you, Cas. Please stay safe." Dean whispered, his breath moving against Castiel's ear and ruffling up the damp hair.
It was a frail request, one that was spoken by a broken and worrying man. One that would never be spoken about again, never brought to life, and certainly never followed through with.
They laid there, listening to each other breathe, each other's heart beating strong in their chest. Letting their eyes drift closed as they fell asleep. Not knowing that what they both needed the most, was right next to them the whole time.