[ It's been weeks since he came back from his little visit 'home', since Cas slipped through his fingers, since he let the angel go and left him to die in Purgatory. It's been even longer since Cas left the station. Since the others disappeared, left of their own accord or otherwise.
So many leave. So many don't come back. It's a gut punch every time, and with Cas gone, he'd asked Viv for help with that, for her to smear his memory like Cas did for Lisa, but she'd said no. Given him some mumbo jumbo about how the orbs would take more than just his memories, that she couldn't do it. It makes him want to give up, to just...let go. Be as reckless as possible next mission. He can't friggin' do this shit anymore, can't keep losing people, can't keep losing Cas over and over. Despite all the fuckups, the betrayals, the souls and Leviathans and everything else - Cas is still his friend. His best friend.
And then there's the matter of the kiss that he's shoved into a box into a closet in the back of his mind, shuttered indefinitely. Instead here he is, sick with guilt, raw and wounded, mourning Cas doubly. He couldn't save him, couldn't get him through the portal in Purgatory, couldn't keep him tethered here.
There's no peace for Dean, never has been (never will be, but that's another tale), but the sunlight room is the closest he's ever gotten, so that's where he goes. An argument could be made for the time he'd spent with Lisa, but even Dean can admit there was never true peace. His mind was always replaying his past, his childhood, shooting ranges as a six year old, working with Sam before he'd gone to hell, wondering what Cas was up to, why he'd just left Dean and hadn't come back after everything they'd gone through.
Then there was Purgatory and Crowley and it's...it was too much.
And, you know - Dean's room is fine, it's great; he's decorated it with all things Zeppelin and Dean himself, books and posters, but there's something about wriggling your toes in grass and feeling the sun on your face (even if it isn't actually real) that calms a guy down.
That's where he goes now, fingers flexing, balled into fists inside his pockets, anger and rage and guilt and regret stewing in his body, churning his stomach. The peace does little for him this time; with everything inside of him, he isn't sure there's really anything that would help. Maybe liquor, but he doesn't even have Bobby's flask anymore, just that damned blade from Purgatory sitting in his room, still crusted with monster blood.
Every time he turns around, someone he cares about is dead or missing. Or...they don't want him around. Sam certainly gave him that impression when he'd come back from Purgatory - he hadn't even bothered to look for Dean.
Shit hurts.
His heads bent, looking at the grass when he sees wood - the bridge. He's stood on it enough but when he looks up and sees a...semi-familiar trench he physically reacts, jerking back, heart up in his throat, ready to leap from his chest and bounce into the river, washed away into nothingness. ]
sunlight room
So many leave. So many don't come back. It's a gut punch every time, and with Cas gone, he'd asked Viv for help with that, for her to smear his memory like Cas did for Lisa, but she'd said no. Given him some mumbo jumbo about how the orbs would take more than just his memories, that she couldn't do it. It makes him want to give up, to just...let go. Be as reckless as possible next mission. He can't friggin' do this shit anymore, can't keep losing people, can't keep losing Cas over and over. Despite all the fuckups, the betrayals, the souls and Leviathans and everything else - Cas is still his friend. His best friend.
And then there's the matter of the kiss that he's shoved into a box into a closet in the back of his mind, shuttered indefinitely. Instead here he is, sick with guilt, raw and wounded, mourning Cas doubly. He couldn't save him, couldn't get him through the portal in Purgatory, couldn't keep him tethered here.
There's no peace for Dean, never has been (never will be, but that's another tale), but the sunlight room is the closest he's ever gotten, so that's where he goes. An argument could be made for the time he'd spent with Lisa, but even Dean can admit there was never true peace. His mind was always replaying his past, his childhood, shooting ranges as a six year old, working with Sam before he'd gone to hell, wondering what Cas was up to, why he'd just left Dean and hadn't come back after everything they'd gone through.
Then there was Purgatory and Crowley and it's...it was too much.
And, you know - Dean's room is fine, it's great; he's decorated it with all things Zeppelin and Dean himself, books and posters, but there's something about wriggling your toes in grass and feeling the sun on your face (even if it isn't actually real) that calms a guy down.
That's where he goes now, fingers flexing, balled into fists inside his pockets, anger and rage and guilt and regret stewing in his body, churning his stomach. The peace does little for him this time; with everything inside of him, he isn't sure there's really anything that would help. Maybe liquor, but he doesn't even have Bobby's flask anymore, just that damned blade from Purgatory sitting in his room, still crusted with monster blood.
Every time he turns around, someone he cares about is dead or missing. Or...they don't want him around. Sam certainly gave him that impression when he'd come back from Purgatory - he hadn't even bothered to look for Dean.
Shit hurts.
His heads bent, looking at the grass when he sees wood - the bridge. He's stood on it enough but when he looks up and sees a...semi-familiar trench he physically reacts, jerking back, heart up in his throat, ready to leap from his chest and bounce into the river, washed away into nothingness. ]
Cas?