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One, Two, Three, Repeat

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2014. Camp Chitaqua.

One, two, three. 

One, two, three.

Three, two, three.

Three, two, three.

Two, two, three. 

Three, two, one.

One, two, three.

“Uh, Dean? You asleep?”

“No, Chuck, come on in.”

“I was, um, I was wondering if you wanted to go with us on a supply run in the morning? We’re running low on some stuff and—” 

“Who’s going?”

“Me, Janelle, Tariq, Mike—”

“OK, good, you’ve got some people who know their way around a weapon. You don’t need me, you’ll be fine.”

Chuck nods and turns to leave.

“Oh hey, uh, if you happen to drive by a liquor store…?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Chuck calls over his shoulder.

One, two, three.

Three, two, three.

Two, three, two. 

Dean can’t sleep. He taps three of his fingers in a steady pattern, realizing two years ago that it’s the only way he can fall asleep. Paired with alcohol, of course.

Two, three, two.

One, one, two.

It’s the only thing he allows in his mind anymore when he’s alone. And the only time he’s alone is when he’s trying to sleep. He kicks girls out of his bed as soon as their eyes start to droop. At this point, everyone in the camp knows the rules about Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester always sleeps alone.

Dean Winchester must always be consulted before decision-making.

Dean Winchester will not tolerate any variety of the question “are you OK?”

Dean Winchester does not participate in any leisure activities with the exception of casual sex. 

Dean Winchester is not afraid to throw you to the Croats if you so much as think the words “Sam” or “Bobby” or “Ellen” or “Jo.” 

Dean Winchester does not want to hear any news from Cas’ cabin unless it’s life or death.

One, two, three.

Three, two, one…



Water, mix, filter, draw up, shoot.

“Baby, come back to bed.”

“Just a minute, sweetheart, you know the rules.”

“I need you now. I want you to fuck my mouth upside down like last time.”

“Jesus, gimme a minute. I promise I want to do that, too.”

Cas never sleeps alone.

There’s no more than two women in the camp who haven’t joined Cas in bed. About a quarter of the men have participated as well. (Cas would’ve slept with more of them if they were all open to the idea. Being genderless for most of his existence basically threw sexuality out the window.)

Cas can’t fall asleep without a warm body next to his. Accompanied by heroin. He became addicted to a number of things (sex, drugs, alcohol) soon after his grace was wrenched from him by heaven itself. Apparently his orders had changed since he pulled the righteous man out of hell, but he never got the memo to stop trusting and obeying Dean Winchester and following his lead no matter the cost. When Dean rejected heaven, heaven rejected Cas.

Thrust, moan, grab, come. 

There are things about Cas that everybody just chooses to accept (or ignore). 

Cas never sleeps alone.

Cas is not, nor was he ever, Castiel: angel of the Lord.

Cas is the only one with access to drugs, and he does not share.

Cas is never—never—sober.

Cas chooses who he wants, and he is always the pursuer, the first to make contact.

Cas does not respond to the question “did you really save Dean from hell?” or any related thereof.

Pour, drink, repeat until black out.