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, violenceSummary: 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 like slipping into a familiar rut, picking up the bottle again. How he had resisted so long was mind-blowing. In fact, everything was mind-blowing.
Alcoholics Anonymous would have called it a relapse. He called it sanctuary. If there was anything that had comforted him when he was feeling down, it had been alcohol. Dad told him to kill him? Alcohol. That time that faith healer made someone else die so that he could live? Alcohol. The time he died? Alcohol. Going to hell in a year? Alcohol. Jump start the freaking apocalypse? Alcohol. He wasn’t saying it made him have the best decisions ever, usually quite the opposite, but at least it helped him get through the pain. Though he had told him that alcohol was a depressive it didn’t really make sense that he felt better while drinking.
This was his third beer. He had gone out and raided the local liquor store after that incident with the radio. Really, he didn’t know why he hadn’t done so before the incident with the radio, but then again he hadn’t felt the need to be drunk before.
He had bent his promise by looking into supernatural things that had powers linked to music. So far he hadn’t found anything that was even close to what he had experienced. It would seem that it had all been in his head, but he wasn’t really sure. He hadn’t even known some of those songs, and yet… but it didn’t matter. His search had yielded no results, which had resulted in him drinking himself to sleep the past few nights. Though he really wasn’t sure how many nights it had been. He had been drinking pretty much all day, every day for a while now. He could feel the concept of time slipping through his fingers. After all, time was meaningless to someone who had no need for it.
He wasn’t a belligerent drunk, he was a functioning drunk. He could see the disapproval in her eyes, and the confusion in the kid’s, but he was starting not to care. What did it really matter, what they thought of him? The only people whose opinions had mattered were dead, with the exception of one asshat of an angel. Seriously, couldn’t that flying monkey understand that he really needed a friend right now? Preferably one who knew what was going on, and who could tell him he was totally not going insane? But no, the angel was busy doing whatever it is that angels’ do, leaving him here to deal with the mess.
And what a mess it was. It was getting harder to hide the bottles, and he was starting to get so drunk that he would just pass out, but it was totally justifiable. Seriously, if he couldn’t get drunk because his brother was dead, for fuck’s sake, and because he kept hearing this creepy music, then he didn’t know when to get drunk. Not that he had told her the reasons why he was drinking. Oh no, he was tight lipped to her. She would just think he was going nuts and send him off to a shrink. He didn’t like shrinks. His one, and only, experience with them made his… brother (Jesus he needed another drink) try to kill him.
So yeah, he was downing the booze like a sailor, but really, who could blame him?Chapter 6