Fic title: Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?
Author name: vampireifurita
Artist name: mulanreflection
Genre: Gen, Wincest
Pairing: Dean/Sam, some background Castiel/Sam, Castiel/Crowley
Word count: 26,732
Warnings: horror, disturbing imagery, violence
Summary: After Sam sacrificed himself to save the world; Dean had gone to Lisa just as he’d been asked. Things had been just fine until he started hearing music that no one else could hear and things just go downhill from there. With no one to turn to, bear witness to man lost at sea, in the throes of grief and unexplainable music that haunts him much like the memories of his brother.
~I’m counting back the number of the steps it took for me to get back on the wagon of the weekend. ~
Gin was a good place to be. So was whiskey for that matter. Traditionally, missing these two drinks would make him sick to the point of puking, but lately it didn’t seem to matter much. Mixing his alcohol was like mixing pop and grenadine, a non-issue. In all actuality, nothing really mattered anymore.
Hiccupping, he made his way down the hallway and into the living room, taking the gin with him. Smiling to himself since the room was empty, he plopped down onto the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a swig of the gin, the taste burning down his throat as some of the liquid dribbled down his chin.
He was lucky, she understood… mostly. She knew something was very wrong with him, something broken deep within himself, and she didn’t fault him for drowning himself in booze to get over it. If he was luckier (was that even a word? Did it really matter if it wasn’t? Was there even anyone listening to his inner monologue? Could he get some much needed input if there was? I mean, what’s the good of having an audience if not for feedback?) he would remember her name when she came back this afternoon. ~I’m trying hard not to be ashamed, not to know the name of who is waking up beside me, or the date, the season or the city. ~ Boy was that embarrassing, not knowing her name. He wasn’t as suave as he usually was, but give him a break, he had would probably still be smashed when she got back. Besides, there wasn’t much he wanted to remember right now, hence the drinking. Drinking dulled the senses, and the memories.
Oh god, the memories.
Laughter flooded his mind, loud boisterous laughter and smiles so wide they dimpled the rosy cheeks they belonged to. It wasn’t fair how he could be so blinded by such simple things. Sparkling eyes he could get lost in for days, those gentle touches that had been so casual between them…
A kick to his shin woke him from too vivid dreams of large hands holding onto him, and broad shoulders obstructing the view. Powerful arms wrapped around him tight, holding him safe. He bolted upright, spine ridged, eyes scanning the room, but not taking anything in.
~Love is never falling over ~
Frowning, he squinted at whoever woke him up. The boy just shook his head and walked away, clearly disappointed in his reaction. She looked at him from the doorway as she turned to follow the boy out of the room, but it didn’t affect him the way it used to.
~Should I choose a noble occupation?
If I did, I’d only show up late and sick
And they would stare at me with hatred. ~
Scowling at the radio, which had clearly turned on by itself, since there was no way this was happening in his head, he fumbled to stand. What a wholly apt song. He really should be cleaning up his act, not falling farther into the bottle. He hadn’t attended to the garden in days, and couldn’t find the will to go out there now. Every time he got close to being sober he would remember why he was here trying to pull off the con of the century and the next thing he would know he would be knee deep in booze.
Time healed all wounds, wasn’t that what they always said? That would mean he’d be able to kick the booze eventually, right? Some day the pain would recede to a dull throb in the very center of his being, something that he could ignore most of the time, but he would wallow in it once out of the eyes of the public. In the future, some far off distant time, he would be able to love her the way that he always should have. He would treat the kid like he was his own, and they would be a family. He wouldn’t have dreams about the boy with soulful eyes that had captured his heart long ago. He wouldn’t think about how that boy was burning in the fiery pits of hell for all of eternity.
Looking down at the half-empty bottle clutched in his hand, he brought it to his lips to stem the tide of haunting memories.