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.
It was a bar like any other. Just another place to hustle poor schmucks out of their hard earned cash. Sure it was flooded with college students, it was a college bar after all, but nothing had made him feel better.
“This will not help you,” that annoyingly calm voice told him as the trench coated angel pulled up a stool beside his own.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m here to earn some cash off these gullible young people,” he retorted, taking a sip from his beer.
“You act as if I do not understand what you are doing,” the angel replied, ordering a beer from the friendly waitress as she sauntered by, shamelessly flirting with the blue eyed menace. “I understand very well what it feels like to have lost…”
“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t know shit Cas.”
“You act as if their loss means nothing to me; Bobby was my friend and Sam…” Castiel started to say. He covered the angel’s mouth with his hand, glaring blackest death at him.
“Don’t say his name,” he growled. “Don’t you dare say his fucking name! You don’t know two shits about what I’m feeling, and you will never understand!”
Cas pushed the hand off his mouth. “How do you think I felt when I found out my father had abandoned us? Do you think I felt nothing? Sam was my friend, he was special.”
“Fuck, I’m not doing this with you,” he said, slamming down his beer on the table. He almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. He pushed his way through the crowd towards the door.
It took him mere minutes to get to his car, but the angel was already there, waiting for him. Cursing up a storm, he unlocked the door and got in. He ignored the piteous look he was getting from the angel in the back seat and just kept his eyes on the road. Freaking angel didn’t know anything.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a familiar figure sitting in the passenger seat. Head leaning against the glass but tilted towards him, legs splayed wide, taking up every bit of space possible. Taking a deep breath, he made sure to keep his eyes on the road, and didn’t turn to look at neither his phantom passenger nor the angel in the back seat.
“I know this is hard for you,” Cas said softly, breaking the silence. “But it really does help to have someone to confide in.”
He scoffed. “Is that what you did Cas? Who’d you talk to, huh? God?”
Cas’ brow furrowed. “God does not speak to anyone Dean.”
“Damn right he doesn’t. Son of a bitch was willing to let the world burn,” he growled. A hand on his neck stopped him from saying anything else.
“I know that you have never believed in my father, and that he has given you no reason to, but I will not tolerate blasphemy.”
“Jesus Cas, seriously? After everything he’s not done, you’re still willing to defend him?” he adjusted his neck so that it was easier for him to breathe.
“He is still my father,” was the angel’s answer. His face contorted into something distasteful for a moment, knowing that he had once had that kind of faith in his father. It made him wonder where his own faith had gone.
“So who the hell have you been talking to?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him as they pulled up in front of his motel. The hand eased off his neck and when he turned to look, the angel was gone. “Fine, don’t answer my question. Fuck you very much Cas.”
He clambered out of the car, pulling the key to his room out of his pocket, mindful of the shadow that followed him. This was his life now, empty rooms with no hope of reprieve. Nights spent alone, drunken days and the occasional nagging of a high and mighty angel, what a farce.
~I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing,
Just praying to a God I don’t believe in. ~
“Fucking God,” he muttered, flopping down on his bed, turning to look at the empty double. “What kind of god lets these kinds of things happen, huh? What kind of god would allow it to come to this? Why would you let him do this? Why did it have to be him?”
Movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention and the sweetest sight greeted him. That face, that body, that stupid hair, all right within his reach, and yet so far away. Shaking his head to free his head of such a beautiful, torturous sight, he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
~What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you.
What am I supposed to say when I’m all choked up and you’re okay?
I’m falling to pieces. I’m falling to pieces. ~
“Fuck, I miss you,” he confessed to the ceiling. “I don’t know how to do this without you; I’ve never known how to do this without you.”
He turned to look at the phantom Sam, lying there, propped up on an elbow listening as intently as ever. He dragged a hand across his face. Everything he had ever wanted was within reaching distance but he knew the second he tried to reach for it, it would disappear. His hopes and dreams were insubstantial at best. Everything he had ever wanted was unreachable.
“I’m starting to see you everywhere, right out of the corner of my eye. In the crowded areas, in cars I pass by, the shitty motels that I stay in. God, I’m starting to see you everywhere,” he confessed to the empty room. “Its unbearable, living without you. And this goddamn music, this music is going to drive me insane. I swear, I’m the only one who hears it Sammy. Every time I curse or swear or do something completely fucked up because of it, people just stare at me like I’m crazy. I’m not crazy, am I?”
The faux Sam on the bed merely blinked at him. “Heh, why am I asking you? After all, you’re probably just a figment of my damned imagination.”
“I don’t know what to do here Sammy… what do you want me to do?”