Chapter Text
Cas was gone.
But Cas is always gone, so who gives a shit, really? Not me. Dean thought as he wiped angrily at the tears streaming down his face. There’s always somewhere more important to be. Something more important than me and my stupid shitty tantrums. My stupid, shitty problems. My stupid, shitty life. He sniffled, realizing he had cried himself into a snotty nose, and was suddenly furious at himself for getting attached to the angel like this.
This was gross. Cas didn’t love him. Cas wanted to save him. There was a huge fucking difference.
He pulled me out of Hell because he was told to and then he followed me around because he was told to and then he decided he would just switch teams and try and hold up the Righteous fucking Man because I seemed like a good fucking fixer-upper…
Dean wiped at his face again, glowering at his boots where he sat on his bed in the dark motel room.
He never even liked me. I was just useful to him. I was always pissing him off…
But Dean loved him. It ate at his stomach and kept him awake at night. He spent so much time trying to do the right thing, to prove himself worthy of everyone’s love that it just felt natural for it to fall perfectly into place: trying to win over this fucking angel who couldn’t even feel feelings or get his jokes.
It made him sick and he hated Cas. Dean hated him for not trusting him. He hated him for not being around more. He hated his brilliant fucking smile and his messy hair and his dirty trenchcoat and the way he squinted his stupid blue eyes when he didn’t get something. He hated him for being gorgeous and smart and strong and logical and everything Dean couldn’t be.
Dean wanted to be good. Cas was a fucking angel. And yeah sure, Castiel fucked up sometimes, but not this bad. Dean fucked up like this all the time and Cas always forgave him, but this time was too much and he knew that Castiel wasn’t coming back…and try as he might to fucking hate him, Dean couldn’t blame him for leaving again.
Dean would leave, too, if he could. He was here all the time and it’s not like you can get away from yourself. Dean knew enough about the mechanics of the universe to know that he was stuck with himself forever. Best not to off himself; best to stay on Earth with booze and cars and girls and Sammy for a little while longer before he went back to Hell.
Because no matter what anyone said, the “Righteous Man” was going back to Hell when he died.
The thought of an eternity with Crowley was disturbing and amusing enough to jolt him back to the world, out of his downward spiral of shitty woe-is-me bullshit. Dean stood and went to the restroom to splash cold water on his face and blow his snotty nose with rough hotel toilet paper. He was careful not to look in the mirror as he left; he really didn’t want to see how he looked right now.
Fuck Cas and his better-things-to-do. Fuck self righteous angels and their heavenly duties. Fuck them right in their unfeeling bullshit reference-not-getting megalomaniac faces.
Dean shrugged on his jacket and stormed out of the motel room, not even locking it before he climbed into the Impala and took off down the road.
He was fine being alone. He didn’t need anyone.