Chapter Text
creative rights for plot go to @spnreacti0nn on twitter (Mel, this concept was amazing we just had to)
”what if dean stayed in his coma in season one, the rest of the show was rly just a coma dream, and Cas was just a figment of deans imagination; the subconscious rock he needed to feel seen, hopeful, and worthy to be saved. He dies by organ failure irl, but in the dream it's the way he'd expect, a hunting accident. In the dream, Sammy lives a long and happy life outside the hunting world. But in reality, Dean's still there, in that hospital bed, slowly rotting away, alone and scared, and Sam searches for revenge, before getting killed by a monster before he could even turn 30." - @spnreacti0nn on twitter
- everything post-prologue shares themes with Mel’s original thought, but takes a different turn
- if you reblog/share/repost please credit Mel on twitter @spnreacti0nn
- not wincest, dnr if you are into that
- this fic deals with description of mental health issues so i probably won’t get everything right, please don’t be too hard on me. i try very hard to look at credible sources for information about symptoms and ways of thinking surrounding this mental condition, as a person without the condition in question.
- TWs for SCHIZOPHRENIA / MENTAL ILLNESS / MENTAL HOSPITAL / DEPRESSION / SUICIDAL IDEATION / DEATH / MOURNING THE LOSS OF A LOVED ONE / COMA / HOSPITAL
𖤐—༒—𖤐
𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔
The bunker's lights covered the tile floor, sending shadows across the ashy room. The boys surrounded the center console, fumbling for words as each shifted quietly.
"I don't think this is a good plan."
"Dean, you have to trust me." the angel said firmly, hardening his gaze. Sam stood in the corner, arms crossed, leaning on the back wall.
"Trust you, Cas?" Dean laughed. "I know you're some kind of divine messenger, but— if we walk in there, we're not walking out."
"Dean," Sam spoke up. "if we don't do anything, nobody else will. C'mon, man." He uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, his footsteps echoing ever so slightly.
"Stop acting like I don't know people are dying, I do-" the hunter accused. "-I just don't know if our lives are worth risking for future ones," he finished, realizing how stupid he sounded. He chewed on his lip, frustrated, trying to justify himself.
"Dean, I know how you feel about this, but this group of Djinn has claimed so many lives." Cas said, stepping forward. The angel paused as Dean became increasingly aware of how close they were. "The best we can do is give it a shot. Say we tried." he reasoned.
Dean stared deep into Cas's unwavering blue eyes, almost pleading with him. Trying to grab the little humanity he knew the angel had.
"Okay. Cas, I trust you." Dean sighed, his gaze faltering. The Cas he knew for years wouldn't do this. Running his fingers through his hair, he stepped forward slightly, expecting Cas to move back as well. The angel didn't move. Dean stared at the closing space between their shoulders. The hunter paused for a beat before brushing past Cas, brushing his trench coat with his right shoulder. Following Dean with his eyes, Cas followed him as he headed up the stairs. Sam took the tail end of the group, grabbing the car keys off the wall.
"Ladies first," Dean smiled his shit-eating grin as he pulled open the door. The angel stepped through with no hesitation.
𖤐 —༒— 𖤐
Dean chewed aggressively on a piece of gum as his hands gripped haphazardly onto the wheel. His mind was clouded with thoughts he couldn't put his tongue on.
"Dean, focus on the road." Sam snapped. "This is the fifth time. You're driving." he finished, breathing out his nose. Cas shuffled quietly in the back seat.
"Sam, let it rest." Cas said, more aggressive than normal, with a piercing stare. He slid his angel blade down into his grip and back up into his sleeve repetitively. Dean could hear the sound of it brushing against his sleeve.
"Stop that shit, Cas. Please." he pleaded, his hands starting to shake slightly. "How far away are we again, Sammy?"
Sam pulled out his laptop before opening Chrome with a loud double tap. "Next turn, and we're there." He brushed his long hair behind his ears.
Dean couldn't help but breathe out his nose—a sigh of relief of some sorts. He'd been on edge the whole drive, but now, he had somewhere to focus that. He felt worse— queasy, even. Pulling to the side of the gravel road, he threw the car into park and unbuckled his seatbelt. He stared into the distance, setting his jaw. None of them knew where to start. They just knew they had to start somewhere.
𖤐—༒—𖤐
Dean pushed his way through a group of tangled vines as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. The dark, overcast night combined with the mist rolling in set him off. Everything in him wanted to ask Cas to step forward, to lead, to take the position of the head of the group for once. The stress was breaking him. He couldn't say he didn't love life. That simply wasn't true— just, keeping up that false persona of the guy who never feels anything was so suffocating. His hands shaking even more, he tightened his grip around the silver knife. He checked his flanks.
Sam, on his right, was clutching the jar of lambs' blood with no issue. His head swiveled at every sound, and he stared back at his brother with a confused expression. To his left, t he angel walked steadily and straight, not noticing how long Dean's eyes lingered on him. There was no ounce of fear in his eyes. The pit in Dean's stomach deepened.
𖤐—༒—𖤐
"Cas, I said I'll go in first, God—" Dean sharply whispered; he was starting to lose his temper with him. To his surprise, the angel solemnly looked back. The slightest hint of heartbreak hid behind his blue eyes.
"Man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Dean started, looking back at Cas with contempt. To his surprise, the angel looked back unwaveringly.
"Dean, don't apologize." He paused for a minute, brows knitted with an expression Dean couldn't pinpoint. It cut right through him like a knife. Sam turned around at the sudden silence in the air.
Dean motioned at Sam to keep moving. His large boots squelched in the mud before them. He began moving again, checking behind him one more time before starting off. The angel followed him silently. He could hear Cas’s breathing and shuffling in his right ear. It was oddly comforting.
𖤐༒𖤐
The cabin’s boarded-up windows jarred Dean back to reality. Walking through the mist, he ducked to avoid any sight lines through the shattered glass. He cleared his throat quietly.
“So, this is it?” he asked, looking around at the relatively small two story home. There was minor splashes of blood on the walls, and the iron fence had a dead rabbit impaled down a spike. Dean gagged.
“Yes, this is the place.” Cas answered, stopping behind Dean and crouching as well. “I know it seems small, but many brutal slaughterings have occurred here. Lots of people were tortured and drained of their life.”
Dean paused, the information sinking in. His brows knitted. “That’s horrible. These bastards deserve to die.” he said, spitting out the words.
Cas shuffled silently in response in an oddly uncomfortable way. Dean looked up slowly from the rabbit.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked, shifting his weight slightly. His brows furrowed with concern. “If it was something I said-“
“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said. He paused, thinking of words to say. His eyes deepened with thought. “I’ll be okay.” he reassured, exhaling out his nose and looking back at Dean. His stomach dropped.
“Do you have the knife?” the angel questioned, and Dean fumbled to pull it out of his pocket. The lamb’s blood was smeared all over the tip, and Dean rolled it over. He rolled his lips and wet them with his tongue as he paused and looked around.
“I don’t know how much longer I can just stand here, man.” he whispered, hearing Sam pick the back door with a bobby pin. “I’m gonna fucking psych myself out and get us killed, honestly.”
Cas looked back solemnly. “We’ve done this before. It will be fine.” He gently rest his hand on Dean’s shoulder and stood up. Cas sighed lightly.
“What?” Dean quietly questioned, putting his hands on his knees and standing up as well. Cas looked back, eyes clouded with thought.
“I just-“ the angel whispered, thinking over his next words. “..you’ve done this so many times. You’ve risked your life over and over again for years in this sick cycle. I can’t help but wonder why.”
Dean’s jaw dropped open slightly, thinking about what to say next. Cas quietly interrupted his train of thought.
“Humans have so little faith, sometimes I just wonder how they somehow persevere. More specifically, how you persevere. You’ve been through so much, Dean.”
Dean closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows. “Well, Cas, I don’t know what to say. I just..”
He paused.
“I try.”
𖤐-༒-𖤐
We’re set to go,” he whispered to Sam, reality setting in on him as his heart started to race again.
Shit. Don’t think about it.
Sam nodded and passed the bobby pin back to Dean. He slid it in his pocket, looking back at Cas. He was, to Dean’s surprise, looking in the wrong direction.
“Cas, man, we’re over here— you’re really not helping-“ he said, gripping the angel on the shoulder and spinning him around. The angel’s eyes were clouded slightly as he followed Dean through the doorway. Sam cocked his saw-off shotgun and held it up to his side.
Cas attentively watched Dean cock his shotgun as he dropped his angel blade into his palm. Dean pulled his gun closer to his chest, finger resting the trigger. Sam waved the two into the next room, taking the back of the group.
The hunter’s grip on his gun tightened as sweat dripped from his forehead. He couldn’t shake the pounding echoing in his chest, and he fought every urge to turn back around; with a quick turn around the corner, he scanned the room--
Dean coughed as his abs contracted, falling to the floor. The angel dropped to Dean’s side on the ground.
“Dean!“ Sam shouted, firing several rounds. The recoil sent a bullet casing straight into his forehead, and he winced with pain.
“Cas-“ Dean choked out, the blood draining from his head. “Cas, I can’t feel anything- why does it hurt, what did they do-“
His hands clutched around his abdomen. A kitchen knife lay buried inside him, the corroded wood poking out stiffly. The angel’s eyes clouded with shock.
“Dean, this-“ he choked. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry-“ He turned to Sam, hearing more gunshots. The Djinn fell to the ground with a loud thump, a pool of blood leaving their haunted frames. Sam stumbled and dropped to the ground, a loud thud shuddering through the house.
Dean’s jaw dropped open as he gasped for air and clawed at his stomach. “God, it hurts, Cas, make it stop-“ His head careened back with a thump into Cas’s chest behind him. The angel held onto him tightly.
Sam’s arm twitched slightly as he rolled over. He’s concussed, Cas thought, turning back to face Dean. “It’s gonna be okay. Dean? Can you hear me?”
Dean stared up at the ceiling.
“Turn it off! Turn it off, Cas, why is it so bright-“ blood pooled in his mouth as he choked out his words. The angel looked up and shouted.
“No, Dean, you have to-“ Cas looked down at him.
Static. Blood pumping. Loud ringing. Your face is pretty, but why won’t the ringing stop?