Dean is sitting awake at the end of his shitty motel bed, like, in The ‘Top Ten Worst Motel Beds Dean Winchester Has Ever Slept In’ bad.
And that’s a fucking achievement.
So, he’s sitting awake; head in his hands, brain pounding, Michael screaming, stupid bed with stupid broken springs and stiff pillows and a smellyhorribleterriblefuckingdreadful comferter. And now he wants a distraction, but Sam’s asleep and he feels bad for waking him up last night.
So he grabs his phone and walks out of the motel room.
It’s freezing, frigid, and the cold feels good against his skin. Dean’s clutching his phone as he goes back into the room to get his coat-
The door’s locked.
“Fuck me,” He groans, smacking his head against the door. He pats his pockets-
He has no pockets -oh my fucking god.
Dean's head hurts and he finally talks to Cas about it
- Part 1 of destiel rights
(I’m @ing our resident emotionally driven asshole)
What just happened.
The door shuts -it doesn’t slam, but shuts- (which is somehow worse) and then Dean is alone and oh god what just happened?
It’s time for me to move on.
(Dean did this- he did this.)
No- No. Cas is the one that left. Cas didn’t want to fix it. (Cas tried to fix it. He did. He tried to talk. This is Dean’s fault. Dean’s fault.)
Fuck Cas. Fuck him. He left. He didn’t try hard enough. (Cas tried, he tried. And Dean sent him into the mouth of hell. And blamed him for Mom. And Rowena.)
His eyes are watering (totally from how hard he’s tensing his arms, not from the fact that the one person that promised to never leave is gone).
Everyone you’ve ever known, everyone you’ve ever loved; they could be long dead. Everyone except me.
Guess Cas fucked that up too.
- Part 2 of destiel rights