Work Text:
Dean couldn’t feel.
No, that's not true. He could feel, that’s the problem. He was feeling too much.
He always made fun of Sam for his “let’s sit in a circle and make flower crowns while talking about our feelings” mindset but the truth was, Dean was more emotional.
Dean’s actions were almost always determined by anger or fear. Or pain. Or total and utter hopelessness. Like just a few moments ago he told Jack he would kill him if he needed to. Why did he say that? That's a horrible thing to say. He said it to Sammy all those years ago and he knows that those words still affect Sam to this day. But he said it again, made the same mistake again.
He knows why, it's because when he looks at the kid he sees Cas.
Cas and his trench coat and his wind-blown hair and his gravelly voice and the way he walks and talks and does anything.
But Cas is gone. Cas is... God, Dean misses Cas so much.
And that’s why he’s drowning his feelings in whiskey. Because he misses Cas and why does anything matter if Cas isn’t there.
Who told Cas he was allowed to die? He wasn’t allowed to fucking leave Dean here with Satan's love child. He wasn’t allowed to fucking leave Dean.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Dean can’t feel anymore. No, no, he can feel it’s just the only thing he can feel is pain and how much he wants Cas back.
Not only that but Mom’s gone too. Stuck in a wasteland. Sammy thinks they can get her back but it doesn’t matter. Cas isn’t here so it doesn’t matter.
Nothing fucking matters.
He just wants his angel back, is that too much to ask?
Dean feels useless.
Dean can’t feel.