socketeer: (Default)
⚔ ([personal profile] socketeer) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2015-11-10 09:20 am

THE POST-APOCALYPTIC MEME





THE POST-APOCALYPTIC MEME

HOW TO PLAY
- comment in the subject line with your character's name and canon.
- state any preferences you might have.
- choose a scenario or use the number generator.
- have fun!


SCENARIOS
1. Alien Invasion ▸ Aliens have taken over the earth.
2. Climate Change ▸ The climate of our planet has shifted suddenly.
3. Cybernetic Revolt ▸ Technology has turned against us.
4. Impact Event ▸ A meteor struck the Earth.
5. Nuclear Warfare ▸ They dropped the big one. Enjoy that fallout.
6. Pandemic ▸ A disease is threatening to wipe out human life on earth.
7. Resource Depletion ▸ There are no longer enough resources to support life.
8. Zombie Apocalypse ▸ A classic, zombies have invaded and destroyed everything.
9. Other ▸ Combine several scenarios or come up with your own!


(x)

heavenonearth: ([end] .06)

castiel / supernatural

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-10 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)

impala_is_my_baby: (That is because you make no sense.)

2014!verse?

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
[To say it had been a rough mission was an understatement. Two guys dead, one injured and infected, shot by the fearless leader on the road back to camp. For his part, Dean had gotten several smacks, and he's pretty sure some of his ribs are bruised, and he wants to curl up in his bunk with a bottle of whiskey and maybe a willing lady.

But first, he needs drugs. And he needs them bad. Which is why he's stumbling into Castiel's cabin, ignoring any kookiness going on and choosing to just make his way over to the drug drawer and dig through it for the painkiller meds that would help take some of the edge off faster.]
heavenonearth: ([end] .15)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ the cabin is quiet when dean enters it. castiel doesn't like too many distractions when dean is gone; if he's not with him, castiel worries, worries that he'll come back badly injured, worried that he won't come back at all. their world might be broken, their connection frayed, but when it comes down to it, dean is the reason he is here, the reason he remained behind when all the angels abandoned them. for better or for worse, castiel has made his choice, and dean is all he has left, the only reason he has to wake up in the morning.

so he's aware, when the trucks roll back into the camp, and he's watching quietly when dean stumbles in unannounced, and begins to immediately rifle through his drawer. castiel exhales smoke, stubs out the joint in his fingers and stands, boneless, shuffling to stand nearby and lean into the archway beside dean. dean is here, he's alive; castiel exhales in slow relief, his eyes hooded. ]


Let me patch you up.
impala_is_my_baby: (This is my trying to understand you face)

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 01:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean can feel him watching, like the prickling sensation of a limb waking up from being still for too long. He honestly has no idea why the hell Castiel has chosen to stay here, why he chose to fall, to become this drug soaked love guru who leads orgies and yet still is a crack shot in the field. Okay, he can understand the orgies part, at least.

He grabs a small orange bottle that says 'Vicodin' on the label and shakes one of the two remaining pills out, dry swallowing before he answers the former angel.]


Nothin' but bruises this time, Cas. Better than can be said for Don and Toby.
heavenonearth: ([end] .14)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 02:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ there are a hundred reasons that castiel has, but first and foremost is that this was his choice. to rebel against heaven, to devote himself to dean completely, supporting his cause.. their failure does not negate his duty, or his responsibility, and castiel isn't about to turn his back on dean, and the earth, simply because they have lost.

it's not easy. it hurts so much, in fact, that he has to drown himself in absinthe and drugs to even make it through the day, to numb the pain and the guilt. but it was his choice. and no one is more important than dean. win or lose, castiel will always be his right hand man, until the moment he dies. he's silent for now, watching dean's profile, studying him, and the names squeeze his heart, but castiel does not flinch. it's been too long, they've lost so many.. there's only one name he really cares about, now. he exhales slow. ]


How did it go?
impala_is_my_baby: (This is my trying to understand you face)

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 02:33 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean finally glances at him, torn between telling him to go find out for himself and asking for another joint to help the Vicodin kick in even faster. At least he doesn't have to do what Castiel is forced to, numbing himself to a point that would kill a normal person. He pockets the bottle and shrugs.]

We got a good read on some Croat activity. About twenty clicks north, there's a real hot spot. Maybe even some demon weather, but then again, the whole atmosphere's gone to shit since the outbreak, so who knows? Good thing is, we did hit an old CVS. Chuck's puttin' you together a goody bag now.
heavenonearth: ([end] .06)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ castiel listens, then offers a shallow nod, followed quickly by a slow, feline smirk. ]

I love when you bring me good news. Good thing, too, if you're going to take the last of my Vicodin.

[ it's really all castiel can bring himself to care about, these days. though he stands stalwartly by dean's side, and will fight anywhere, anytime he asks, the mission is of only minor import to him. they've already lost. sam is gone, the world is in shambles. taking out lucifer, if they can even ever manage it, is only a way to help assuage their guilt. dean, and the drugs, are all that really matter. ]
impala_is_my_baby: (Okay we can go with that lie for now.)

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 02:48 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean raises his eyebrows at him, patting his pocket.]

Well, can't let you have all the fun. Besides, I was the one out there in the thick of things. And no, you're not allowed to claim orgies as bein' "the thick of things".

[Yes, they've lost. But damn if Dean would ever admit that.]
heavenonearth: ([end] .05)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 03:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ castiel can't help but crack a smile, and he pushes off the archway again to meander back toward his bed, lifting the joint from the ashtray to light it again. ]

An orgy is a lot of work, you know. It's exhausting.
impala_is_my_baby: (This is my trying to understand you face)

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean watches him, the joint catching his eye. It's tempting. Really tempting. He can't remember the last time he even enjoyed the slow curl of marijuana. Well, he's not on a mission, and doesn't have one planned for another few days, so why the hell not.

He walks towards the bed, holding out his hand for the joint expectantly.]


Oh yeah, all that sex's exhausting. Tough gig you've gotten for yourself there.
heavenonearth: ([end] .15)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ a moment passes, then castiel breathes a soft laugh, exhaling in a plume of acrid smoke as he offers the glowing joint forward with two fingers. so help him, but he enjoys it when dean is able to loosen up around him enough to get a little fucked up; these days, it seems to happen less and less. ]

Knock yourself out. [ he says, then shrugs. ] But you're not wrong. I'm glad you're beginning to understand my struggle.
impala_is_my_baby: (This is my trying to understand you face)

[personal profile] impala_is_my_baby 2015-11-11 03:29 am (UTC)(link)
[Dean snorts at that as he claims the join, taking a deep inhalation of the smoke and letting it sit in his lungs for a long few seconds, then letting the air out slowly. He holds it back out to him before moving to sit on the bed with a sigh, aching body finally demanding it..]

Yeah right. Real struggle. Those girls practically worship you, you know. Tough bein' the love guru?

heavenonearth: ([end] .05)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-11 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ castiel watches with hooded eyes while dean drags from the joint, holds, and exhales, then takes it carefully between his fingers. ]

Mm, it's a difficult job, but someone needs to do it. [ he moves to sit down beside dean, stretching his legs forward and crossing them at the ankle. ] Not jealous, are you?

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ghostlife: (78 - betrayed - pissed stare - slight l)

Never enough futureverse

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-12 06:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's early August, unbearably hot, and down to the last few days of the countdown, even if Dean's the only one who knows it. He's been distant to his friends and allies for a long time, but these past few days have been bad even for him. He's on edge, and not because of what's coming. No, he's had a long time to come to terms with that. He's feeling cut off from everybody and closed down on himself because of the conversation he doesn't want to have, the one that's got to be tonight, because he's been putting it off for five years and now there's no time left. It's easier when you know what's going to happen, what you're going to say and how the other guy's going to respond. But he's going into this one blind, and it scares him. Which is funny, because he thought he had nothing left to fear anymore. But he's afraid of this, of all things. Of having an honest conversation with Cas.

It's after dark by the time he finally forces himself up the steps of Cas's cabin. He holds the beads at the doorway aside with one hand, doesn't even bother to step inside. He knows Cas is in there somewhere, either stoned or with a girl or both, but Dean doesn't care. He calls out. ]


War meeting, Cas. You and me. Right now. And no, it can't wait.

[ And then he drops the beads and turns, storms off to his cabin with no stops along the way, woe betide anybody who tried. He's got his mind set on this one thing, and he won't be able to rest until it's out of his system. So he goes, and he waits for Cas inside the entrance of his own cabin, arms crossed, watching the door, gun still in its holster at his leg. He's not messing around. ]
heavenonearth: ([end] .09)

even you cannot resist the sirens call of future trash

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-12 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ two girls, dean, and they're not particularly happy to hear dean's voice cut across the room. they know what it means. castiel is dean's right hand man, his second in command, and no amount of drugs or sweet sex could keep him from dean's side, however tempting it might sometimes be for him to tell dean to fuck off. but he won't. he never will. he'll push his boundaries sometimes, but in the end it's dean that he's here for, and dean that he will obey.

so, chagrined, he ushers the girls back into their clothes and out of the cabin so he can dress himself in the smoky dimness, takes a hit from his bowl and caps it, then stumbles out into the muggy august air some five minutes after dean's rude interruption.

castiel has no idea what this could be about, why dean would be calling him out alone, at night, when most of the camp is quieting and bedding down - he'd sounded sharp, sharper than usual, and castiel hasn't forgotten his behavior. dean has been out of sorts this week, he's been cold and withdrawn, far more than usual, and even castiel hasn't been able to pry him open or coax him to talk - not that he's ever really been able to. cas generally lets dean be, never forces anything from him until he's ready to give it, which is why, perhaps, they've been able to stay close for so long. if you can even call it close. but even still, if there's anyone in this camp that dean winchester is going to open up to, it's him, so the fact that he hasn't has been a little disconcerting. castiel hasn't pushed it, hasn't asked for more, but it's been on his mind.

so this, he hopes, will be like breaking a dam.

in stark contrast to dean's hard posture and stony expression, castiel is boneless and easy, a languid smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, his hooded eyes glassy and dark with dilated pupils. with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops, he ambles up the walk to dean's cabin, taking the steps slow as he approaches the brooding figure in the doorway. ]


Couldn't have asked me on an afternoon date, fearless leader? What's the rush?
ghostlife: (by how easy the act of leaving was)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-12 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Truth is, they could've had this conversation in the afternoon. Or this morning. They could've had it years ago, but Dean's put it off long as possible. And even now he's having second thoughts. But he doesn't so much as flinch at the stab of guilt he feels. None of it shows on his face, in his practiced, solemn expression. ]

We're out of time.

[ He says instead and turns on his heel, walks deeper into the cabin with tossed commands. ]

Shut the door and come with me.

[ The cabin is sparse, utilitarian. There's no decoration or anything that doesn't need to be there. You don't hang guns on the wall when every gun needs to be in somebody's hand. Maybe he could've found a poster of some pin-up, hung up the photographs he still keeps, any kind of relic of the past, but there's no point to it, hasn't ever been. This is just a waiting room; the whole camp is and has been since they got there. They're all just waiting for the end.

He leads Cas to the back of his cabin, to where he sleeps, which is off limits from everyone, even Cas. Nobody gets this far and for good reason. Dean unlocks the door with a key and stands just outside of it. He watches Cas expectantly with squared shoulders and hard eyes, waiting for him to enter first.

The reason nobody goes in here is because Dean is a paranoid son of a bitch. He trusts everyone in the camp with his life out of necessity, and they trust him. But even though croats are easy to spot among the ranks and even easier to keep out, they're not the only thing around. His whole room is warded. Devil's trap at the entrance, Enochian all over the damn place. All kinds of symbols painted and carved into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. His panic room. It looks a little crazy, admittedly. And to people who aren't like him and Cas, who don't know there are demons and angels and all kinds of things out there, it would be hard to explain. So Dean doesn't bother. He keeps it locked up, only goes in here to sleep. And now with Cas, to talk through something he's never said a word about, that no one but him and Cas is allowed to hear.

He trusts Cas to walk inside on his own, but if he doesn't do it fast enough, Dean's got no problem grabbing and shoving him in. ]
heavenonearth: ([end] .14)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-12 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ for all castiel likes to fool around and play off the pain with drugs and booze and loose, easy smiles, to his credit he knows when it's time to buckle down and get the job done. there's enough angel still left in him to know how to be a warrior, to know when it's time to cut through the bullshit and get down to business.

the moment dean reaches for his key to unlock that door, castiel feels the cold wash of sobriety dumped over his head like a bucket of ice water. whatever this is, whatever dean's got him here for, it's serious. even castiel has never seen behind that door, knows it's dean's private space, like his heart, closed and cold and distant, unreachable even for castiel, who knows him best, who is closest to him out of anyone left. it doesn't bother him, it never has, it's just another side-effect of this whole nasty business, another loss, like all the rest, another mistake, this rift between them that they just have to live with. but something like dread clutches at his heart when dean opens that door and stares at him with steel in his eyes, a silent command written into the set of his shoulders and stone of his face.

shoving won't be necessary. castiel does hesitate a moment, his expression smoothed and unreadable, his blue eyes flickering to dean's face and lingering there, but he won't disobey a direct order, even unspoken. without comment, he brushes past dean and into the room, his eyes raking the walls painted and carved and scratched with sigils, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he's never seen before. the enochian makes him shiver unpleasantly, half in bad, sick memory, and perhaps because some sliver of the grace still clinging to him is reacting to it, but he's far less angel than man now, and he can pass into the room with ease.

once inside, he turns to dean and links his hands loosely together, his eyes raised to dean's face, unwavering. he doesn't say anything, doesn't ask, only watches, and waits. ]
ghostlife: (78 - profile - serious talk - car bg)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-12 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The way Cas looks at him, serious and trusting, with no smiles and no bitter hollowness to his eyes makes it hard for Dean to keep the iron in his expression, and he thinks irrationally, telling Cas to forget it, ordering him out again and letting what's coming come with no warning, and letting it all die with him. But Dean's never been the kind of person who can do that, and the responsibility is too heavy for him to let himself get scared or guilted out of it. He's glad, at least, to turn his back on Cas and lock the door again behind them. But all too soon, he's got to turn around and meet Cas's eyes again.

He doesn't wait, doesn't beat around it or offer excuses. He dives right in brutally, because he doesn't know how to be any other way anymore. ]


In August of 2009, Zachariah found me when we were running from him. Back when the angels were still trying to get me to say yes to Michael, and they thought they still stood a chance. He sent me here, to 2014. Right now that me is leaving Kansas City. He'll be here at camp tomorrow, early afternoon.

[ And that's why they're here, in a room warded against angels, because the angels may be gone, but you can never really get rid of those time-traveling bastards. Cas should know that better than anyone. That's why this conversation had to be now, tonight, and why it couldn't wait another day. Because the other him can't know that they talked about it, and Dean doesn't trust himself to have this conversation while he's around. He'd find out, and that would ruin everything. No, it's got to be now, and it's got to be Cas, as much as Dean wishes it could be anybody else. There is nobody else. It's just them. ]
heavenonearth: ([end] .04)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-12 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ castiel watches in silence while dean locks the door behind him, and that dread twists in his gut again when dean shuts and locks the door, with a click that sounds too final.

and then he's turning, and explaining, and castiel listens with a straight face and unreadable eyes while dean talks about the past, about zachariah, and michael, things and names he has been trying very hard not to think about over the past five years. his gaze drops thoughtfully, but nothing shows in his expression as castiel turns, and shifts to lean against the edge of the bed. ]


Tomorrow. And you're telling me now.

[ he says, and his voice feels thick. five years, and dean has never told him this, kept it from him, and castiel feels something like anger flare in his breast but it disappears just as soon as it arrives, tamped down by constant, low-grade inebriation and his own anguished, bitter heart. what's one more secret between them, really? what's one more hurt? it's a drop in the bucket at this point. it doesn't matter. what matters is that tomorrow, dean will be here, a different dean, one castiel hasn't known in five years, one he sacrificed everything for, fell for. he hums, and lifts his eyes to dean's face. ]

You're going to tell him to say yes, I assume.
ghostlife: (Where we going man?)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-12 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The angry look is fine, and Dean welcomes it. It's a lot easier to deal with than all the other weapons Cas could use on him. And he could answer, make excuses for why he waited (because he thought he could change things right up until he couldn't, because knowing about it hasn't made it easier for him, wouldn't make it easier for Cas, because he knows how and where it ends and what he's going to do, what he has to tell Cas, and this whole damn conversation scares him. But there's no point in explaining himself to Cas. They're long past the point of justifications. He doesn't bother. Obviously Cas doesn't expect him to anyway, since he's moving on.

Dean doesn't move from where he stands by the door, doesn't relax or offer Cas anything than a stoney expression and clipped words. ]


Yeah, that's what they want. Why they send me here. But it won't make a damn difference.

[ Obviously it doesn't, because they're still here. Nothing changed. If he'd said yes to Michael, they wouldn't be here. Maybe things would be worse, maybe they'd all be dead, but they wouldn't be here. Things would've been different. But that's an old wound and guilt Dean's lived with for years. It doesn't bother him now any more than anything else he regrets. ]

We find the colt tomorrow, too. After midnight, we head for Detroit: you and me and him, and everybody able. We drive all night, get there early morning to take on Lucifer. But nobody's waiting for us. The way's all clear. I tell you to take everyone and go through the front while I take mini-me around back with the gun.

[ Dean skips over it all, along any questions Cas might have. Because the past him isn't what he brought Cas here to talk about. It's Lucifer, and what happens after he leaves. And for all Cas plays at being empty-headed and strung out these days, Dean knows him better than anyone. Cas is smarter than he is, and he knows Cas sees it for the trap it is, and he's going to go that asylum anyway. Because he's loyal, not because he's stupid. He's willing to kill himself for Dean to get a shot at Lucifer, and Dean knows that's how it would be, would know it even if he hasn't already saw it five years ago through younger eyes.

And that's what they're here to talk about. As much as Dean doesn't want to, is scared of facing Cas with it. Here he is. Here they are, with the showdown in two days. No going back now. ]
heavenonearth: ([end] .18)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-12 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ of course it won't make a difference. that bullheaded, intense forwardness is what he loved about dean, after all, what drew castiel to him to begin with. they're kindred souls in this, in many ways more alike than they are different, willing to latch onto a single cause and ride it hard no matter what, heedless of the consequences, willing to accept them. there's something noble about it, even if it's stubbornly foolish, and castiel wouldn't expect any different from dean but to follow his own ideals right to the very end, and damn everything else. to victory or defeat, it doesn't matter, so long as you stick to your guns. the dean he knows now, the dean from the past.. they won't listen, either of them, they'll never say yes, and that's just as well. castiel isn't surprised.

but when dean goes on to talk about the colt, and detroit, and all that they see there, castiel feels the realization looming over him like the blade of a guillotine, sharp and real and threatening. he can't mask it this time, the expression on his face when he begins to understand, the quiet shock and cold lick of fear and icy, inevitable resolve. his throat works as he swallows, his eyes fixed on dean's face, then dropping away as his exhale rushes out of him hard.

he has to sit. dean might have lived with this information for five years, had time to internalize it, ready himself for it, but castiel is being hit with all of it at once, like a bag of bricks dropped onto his head, or a sucker punch to the gut. and there's nothing around for him to grab onto, no pipe or bottle or handful of pills, nothing to make it easier to swallow, or to numb the pain and panic. slowly, castiel draws a hand over his face, then drops to sit fully at the edge of the bed, slow and steady like an insect folding itself down. ]


It's a trap.

[ he says, more to himself than to dean, his voice feels tight, quiet, and castiel rests his elbows on his knees, staring blankly forward, his shoulders slumped as if beneath a heavy weight. he understands. he understands, and he doesn't fight it, because there's no reason to, because it all had to end at some point, and it'll be better to be done with it all at last. he won't argue, won't rail against it, because when it comes down to it castiel agreed to this the moment he fell, the moment he chose to stay here on earth, with dean, instead of leaving with the angels. his life hasn't been his own for a long time, if it ever really was to begin with. so he dips is head in assent, and quiet obedience. ]

All right.
ghostlife: (78 - hand gesture - arguing)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-12 08:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The saddest part about it all is that Dean hadn't expected a fight out of Cas. Not anymore. Years ago, Cas would've fought him tooth and nail on this because he knows, just like Dean knows way down deep, that this is wrong, that they're better than this, both of them, and that killing Lucifer isn't worth what they're going to have to throw away to do it. Not worth killing themselves and sure as hell not worth killing each other. It's not sad that they've got to die. It's sad that they've given up and accepted it.

Dean gets angry, because he doesn't have the strength left to be sad, but anger he's still got in spades. He crosses the room, fists Cas's shirt in his hands and pulls him back up to standing, looks him in the eye. ]


No. Not all right.

[ He says, and stares at him hard before letting go, and taking a breath, going on with all the ease of a speech that's been memorized and practiced, because this may all be new to Cas, but Dean has had this conversation in his head for years, practiced it a dozen times. This isn't something he's deciding now. It's something he decided a long time ago, and going through with it now is just like driving on a track with no room to turn around. There's no other way but forward and through. There's no other options for either of them. ]

The colt doesn't work. It doesn't kill Lucifer. I saw it. The mission fails. It's a goddamn waste of time.

[ He licks his lips and readjusts his stance, the only signs that are even a hint at how nervous he is, how much he wants to be anywhere but in this room, having this conversation. ]

But we're going in anyway, because we've got to. And here's what's going to happen: I'm gonna give the order. Little me's going to take me aside because it's obvious even to him it's a trap. I'm gonna knock him out and then once he's out of it, you're going to call me out on it. You'll say it's a trap, because it is, and you and me are gonna argue about it. You going to say you won't let me sacrifice all those people just for a shot at Lucifer and you'll be right, but I'll argue with you anyway.

[ He drops a hand on Cas's shoulder and points at him, all orders and command in his hazel eyes and the hard line of his mouth, not a drop of room for question in anything he's saying. ]

And then you're going to walk away. Take a truck, along with anybody who comes with you, and you're going to drive your ass back to camp, and you're going to take my place. You're gonna lead them. Everybody who's left. Because we're not finished yet. Lucifer is still out there two days from now, and we still have to stop him. You have to stop him, Cas. This ain't over.
heavenonearth: ([end] .10)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-12 09:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ dean's hands snag his coat and pull, two points of contact to snap him from his hazy, circular thoughts, dragging him up to his feet and it feels strange, otherworldly, like he's drowning and dean is yanking him up for air, pulling him through water, his body clumsy and heavy. but there's a spark when he meets dean's eyes, and it's sad that he's happy to see that anger, because it's something, it's an emotion, a reminder that dean is alive, and here with them. sometimes it doesn't feel that way. sometimes dean feels so far away that it's as if he may as well be dead. as if they both may as well be dead.

but he's certainly alive now, alive and fuming and restless, castiel can see the anxiety in his body and face, can see it all written so clearly for someone who knows him well, but he isn't able to ask, dean is railroading on and besides, castiel's tongue is still too thick in his mouth to form words. as he explains, it all begins to make sense, coming together in a picture that castiel really doesn't want to see, a reality he refuses to accept. he may as well have struck him across the face with his fist, for all it affects him; castiel flinches visibly. ]


What?

[ the word snaps from him like a whip, and all at once castiel is himself again, sober and sharp, staring into dean's face with brash, open incredulity. he can hardly believe what he's hearing, what dean is asking of him, of all the things that dean has asked of him he still has trouble believing what he's hearing, believing that dean could ever ask such a thing of him. ]


No. Never, Dean. You can't ask that of me, how could you ever ask that of me?

[ does he even understand? can he even begin to fathom exactly what it is he is instructing castiel to do, all the subtle nuance of it, the life that he is asking him to lead? does he even understand how hard it is even now, to open his eyes every day, to bring himself to climb out of bed every morning? does he not realize that the only reason he has to live each day is standing right before him, that he's asking him to live without it? to castiel, it's like telling a man to set himself on fire, to flay his own skin off with a butter knife, to crack open his ribs and remove his own beating heart with his hands. castiel's voice is tight with emotion, breaking, almost manic, and his body language is stiff, one hand cutting hard through the air. ]

No, no, I won't do it, Dean. I can't do it.
ghostlife: (456 - 2014 - arguing pissed)

[personal profile] ghostlife 2015-11-13 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ Well that goes over about as well as Dean figured it would, but it still makes him angry to hear, to see the open rebellion in Cas's face now, when it's too damn late for it, when just a minute before he was willing to roll over and die without fighting like that's all there was for them. It pisses Dean off. And he barks back loud. ]

I'm not asking. This is an order. You're going to do it. You'll do it for me, because I'm telling you to.

[ He knows what he's asking Cas to do, about the worst thing he could do to him when he's so damned stoned all the time he barely counts for something alive. Making him shoulder some responsibility and stop dragging along after Dean like a pile of crap he stepped in. Dean wishes he could pity Cas for it, but he's giving him a chance here, a real chance to be something better than what he's let himself become, and Cas is just throwing it all in his face. Dean gets angry, and it shows in his face and the grit of his teeth and the shake of his fists, and it's all he can do not to punch Cas in the face. He's so pumped full of trash he probably wouldn't even feel it. ]

This is the last thing I'm ever going to ask of you, Cas. Don't you start saying "no" to me now.
heavenonearth: ([end] .21)

[personal profile] heavenonearth 2015-11-13 12:11 am (UTC)(link)
No, Dean.

[ he says, defiant and fierce, in no way intimidated by dean's fury and bravado. what he doesn't understand is that castiel would gladly die for him, that dying for him is a far easier choice than living without him. that going on without dean is the greatest torture anyone could bestow upon him. castiel's hands curl to fists at his sides and he steps forward fearlessly, staring into dean's face with all the fury of heaven in his eyes. he can feel his body trembling with ire and with fear, but he ignores it, won't back down, not now, not over this. ]

Tell me why, Dean. Why would you ask that of me? Do you think you're doing me a favor?

[ because a chance to make things right, a chance to become something better? that's fucking laughable. there's no such thing as something better, not here, not in this place or time. there's pitiable survival, and there's death, and that's it, nothing more. ]

You think you can just give up, and put it all on me, like you're doing me some great service? When you're just leaving me? Running away like a dog?

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