Thistle and Weeds
Apr. 15th, 2014 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Thistle and Weeks (aka Faith, Love, and Pixie Dust)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean + Castiel, pre-slash
Rating: PG because, let’s face it, Dean’s got a sewer mouth.
Word Count: 2,179
Warnings: None, it’s pretty vanilla.
Short Summary: Dean’s feels are overflowing and yet, he still can’t tell Cas the truth.
Author’s Notes: Written for the songfic challenge at 1 Million Words. I was given the prompt of:
Devil on my shoulder by Billy Talent
Enemies by Shinedown
Thistle and weeds by Mumford and sons
Having never heard any of these songs and really having only ever listened to Shinedown, I did a bit of research and settled on “Thistle and Weeds” by Mumford and Sons. I think it accurately describes the relationship Dean and Cas have, even in cannon. I hope you enjoy.
Mood music:
Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams,
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams,
Rain poured down outside the grungy hotel room on the outskirts of Nowhere, Nevada. Dean looked out through the ancient curtains and watched the water fall from the heavens and soak the parched earth. Like an angel’s tears on a sinner’s soul.
Wait, where had that thought come from?
Roughly, he shook the memories from his head before they could crowd in and take over. Cas had left – left him, left Sammy, left all of them – and Dean didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand why. What had he done to chase him away? Why was he constantly making a mess of things and pissing off the ones he cared about?
Stop thinking so much, he admonished himself. With a growl, he grabbed his jacket off the chair beside him. He had a hand on the door knob when his brother’s voice stopped him.
“Dean?” Sam eyed him, wary of his mood, the hurt and anger almost palpable.
“Leave me alone, Sammy. I gotta get out of here.”
Dean slammed the door behind him, but not before his brother’s parting words reached his ears. “Just… be careful, Dean.”
I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind,
Alone in the wind and the rain you left me,
Dean parked the Impala on the side of the highway, glaring out at the night. Every night, he called to Castiel, prayed to him, begged him to show his angelic face and each time, he was disappointed. Abandoned, alone, worthless.
“Damn you, Cas,” he growled into the empty night. “Why won’t you show yourself? Am I so unredeemable that even an angel won’t come to me?”
Dean didn’t need anybody, or at least, that’s what he told himself. Sammy was by his side because he was family and family watched out for each other. Mostly. Because, let’s be honest, his dad never had been all that good at it, had he? But need? No, he didn’t need a damn thing.
“None of this is Dad’s fault,” he scolded himself. “It’s all your damn fault, Dean. Own up to it.”
It hit him then that it really was all his fault and that he had to do something about it. Now, before things got any worse than they already were. He had to make it right with Cas before it was too late.
It's getting dark darling, too dark to see,
And I'm on my knees, and your faith in shreds, it seems.
Dean opened the door of the Impala, breathing in the damp desert air. The scent of sagebrush mixed with mud tickled his nose, reminding him of where he had landed himself this time. Monsoon rain still poured from the sky above him, but it didn’t keep him from his task, the only thing left that might possibly bring his Cas back to him.
Climbing out, he looked around him, taking in the shadows of the cacti and mountains surrounding him. Shadows that could be hiding any number of things, scary things, evil things. At that moment, none of that mattered to Dean Winchester, the only thing that was on his mind was bringing Cas back. Bringing him home.
He fell to his knees beside the black beast he lovingly called Baby, body sinking into the rain soaked earth beneath him. Lifting his face to the sky, droplets landed heavily, splattering across his sun beaten skin. Searching for salvation in the sky, he began to pray.
Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown,
I know you have felt much more love than you've shown,
And I'm on my knees and the water creeps to my chest.
“Castiel, hear my words,” he began, attempting to take this more seriously than he ever had before. To make Cas see – hear – that he needs him, here, now. “Because I don’t know if I can ever say this again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being an ass, for being so stubborn. I’m just… sorry. We need you. Hell, I need you, man.” Something lodged in his throat, cutting off the words as he tried to speak them. Emotion, Dean, this is what it’s like to feel. The words trapped in his throat floated into his mind. I love you.
He knew he’d never be able to say them, not in a way that Cas could ever hear them, but his heart’s call would have to do because it was all he had left inside. Cas would understand. He had to understand. His gaze fell from the sky and landed on his clasped hands that rested on his thighs. It was too little too late.
“Dean,” the voice said, quiet yet commanding.
“Cas?” Dean lifted his head, searching the dark. “Is that you or am I going crazy. Again.”
“No, it’s me, Dean.” He cocked his head and studied his soaked friend on the ground. Taking three steps forward, he pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead, listening, and then removing them. “You are not crazy. I checked.”
“Oh Cas,” Dean half sighed, half groaned. Some things never changed, and this is one he was thankful for.
Rivulets of water rushed past Dean’s legs, carrying bits of the world around him along with it. The storm continued to dump onto the desert, washing the land clean, baptizing the arid ground with its powerful shower. He found Castiel’s face and locked onto it, hoping for sanctuary in those compassionate blue eyes. What he found there instead was something he hadn’t expected.
“Dean, why are you in the mud?”
He laughed, the stress of the past weeks breaking free and escaping. If there was one thing Castiel excelled at, it was snapping the tension between two people without knowing it. Probably also without understanding it. None of that mattered because he was here, with him, and he wasn’t going to let him leave again. Not before he could tell him the truth. “I was praying to you, Cas. And you came.”
“Of course I came, Dean. You needed me.” Cas lowered himself into a squat, coming eye level to the man he called friend. He reached out and touched Dean’s face, brushing his cheek with the barest hint of fingertip. “You’ve been crying. Why?”
But plant your hope with good seeds,
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds,
Rain down, rain down on me,
Look over your hills and be still,
The sky above us shoots to kill,
Rain down, rain down on me.
“I haven’t been crying, damnit. It’s raining, haven’t you noticed that? I’m soaked and you are too.” He pulled back from Cas’ touch, trying to shield himself from the pain knowing always caused him.
He withdrew his hand, pulling it back to his side, shoving it into a pocket of the trench coat his vessel always wore. “I know it’s raining, that much is obvious,” he said, again studying the elder Winchester carefully. “What also should be obvious is that I can tell the difference between a mere raindrop and a teardrop borne of heartache.”
“Heart – no, no man, there’s no heartache here,” Dean lied, kicking himself as he did so. Why couldn’t he just say the words? Because if he knows, he’ll fly away and you’ll never see him again, that’s why. Everyone you love dies, Dean. Do you want Cas to die, too?
He did not.
Therefore, he had to lie. It was better in the end, he knew this. But it still sucked. It hurt, damn it all, it hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced before – and that was a varied lot of hurt. But for Cas, he’d endure Purgatory all over again. Twice. On a Sunday.
But I will hold on
I will hold on hope, but I will hold on, I will hold on hope, and I will hold on I will hold on hope, but I will hold on I will hold on hope, I will hold on I will hold on.
If it kept Castiel near, he’d do whatever it took, even lying to the man – angel – that he loved. He could do this because the reward was worth more than the price he was bound to pay. The price of never being allowed to hold him or love him, but to only ever be his friend.
It was a million times better than the alternative.
“Cas, I’m sorry. I – ”
“Why are you sorry, Dean? You’ve done nothing wrong, only what you’ve been forced to do by the world around you.” Cas gave him that patented puppy-dog look, the one with the tilted head and wide, alert eyes. That look damn near broke his heart.
I begged you to hear me, there's more than flesh and bones,
Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves,
But take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes, you've made.
“I had to have done something, Cas. You left. You left all of us without a word. I called and I prayed but you never answered, not until tonight.”
“There was no other alternative, Dean,” Cas said, lowering himself to his knees. “I was confused, lost… I needed to figure out what was happening to me. Gabriel – ”
“That psycho is probably not the best person to go to for advice,” Dean snorted. “Why didn’t you come to me, Cas? Or Sammy? We would help you through anything.”
Cas looked away, smiling as a coyote scurried from bit of shelter to bit of shelter, dodging water droplets as he ran. “Poor lost soul,” he said, “I hope he finds his way home.” Turning back to Dean, he sighed, a breath on the stormy wind. “I know you would, but you see, you are the reason I was so confounded.”
“Me, Cas?” Dean ignored his blessing on the wayward coyote, focusing more on what he didn’t say than what he had said. “I’m the reason?”
Castiel held his hands out, palms up, eyes shining with the power burning within him. “Yes, Dean, you.”
“But why? Why me?” Dean reached out a hand, touching the lapels of Castiel’s worn and dirty coat.
“Because I think I love you.” His fingers moved towards Dean’s, hesitated, then pulled back, afraid.
But plant your hope with good seeds,
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds,
Rain down, rain down on me.
“Of all the souls on this planet, why choose this broken, battered, unholy one? Why choose me?” His face was twisted in anguish, his true feelings showing through his eyes.
“Because you are broken and battered and imperfect, Dean,” Cas informed him. “That’s what angels do, why we are here. We heal people, we fix things, we make the world right. But more than anything, we redeem those who need it most, those who think there’s nothing left worth saving. People like you.”
“I’m not worthy,” he whispered.
“And because you know that makes you worthy, Dean.” It was something only an angel could say and make it sound believable.
The truth rang in those simple words even as denial battled against it. Cas had forgiven him for – for whatever it was he’d done – and he’d come back. Back to me, he thought. He wasn’t certain he could ever believe the words that Cas had said to him, the he was worthy of redemption nor could he ever conceive that he was good enough to receive such a heavenly love, but the fact remained. Castiel loved him.
Son of a bitch.
“Cas,” Dean struggled, each word an effort to speak. “I think – no, I know – I love you, too. Worthy or not, I fucking love you, you mangy angel.”
“And I fucking love you as well, assbutt.” Castiel stood, holding out a hand. “Come, Sam must be worried by now.”
Dean nodded, agreeing with Castiel’s assumption. Sam was always worried about something, tonight it just happened to be his big brother. Taking the angel’s extended hand in his own, he rose to his feet, coming eye to eye with his patient gaze. “Where do we go from here, Cas?”
Castiel looked at him as if he were simple minded. “Back to the hotel,” he stated. “Isn’t your brother awaiting your return?”
Lips stretching into what Sam had started calling his ‘let’s humor Cas’ smirk, Dean shook his head, unable to deny it. “Yeah, Cas, he is. Hop in, angel boy.”
The Impala tore off the shoulder and back onto the highway, gravel and mud spraying from under her wheels. Dean’s attention focused on the unlit road ahead of him, headlights spilling onto the worn asphalt. While he might not ever fully accept that salvation truly was an option, not for him, not really, maybe he could hold out some hope for the rest of the world. For Sammy, or Bobby, or hell, even his father.
In that silent moment, with nothing but the sound of the rain on the roof and the roar of the engine, anything was possible.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean + Castiel, pre-slash
Rating: PG because, let’s face it, Dean’s got a sewer mouth.
Word Count: 2,179
Warnings: None, it’s pretty vanilla.
Short Summary: Dean’s feels are overflowing and yet, he still can’t tell Cas the truth.
Author’s Notes: Written for the songfic challenge at 1 Million Words. I was given the prompt of:
Devil on my shoulder by Billy Talent
Enemies by Shinedown
Thistle and weeds by Mumford and sons
Having never heard any of these songs and really having only ever listened to Shinedown, I did a bit of research and settled on “Thistle and Weeds” by Mumford and Sons. I think it accurately describes the relationship Dean and Cas have, even in cannon. I hope you enjoy.
Mood music:
Spare me your judgments and spare me your dreams,
Cause recently mine have been tearing my seams,
Rain poured down outside the grungy hotel room on the outskirts of Nowhere, Nevada. Dean looked out through the ancient curtains and watched the water fall from the heavens and soak the parched earth. Like an angel’s tears on a sinner’s soul.
Wait, where had that thought come from?
Roughly, he shook the memories from his head before they could crowd in and take over. Cas had left – left him, left Sammy, left all of them – and Dean didn’t know why. Couldn’t understand why. What had he done to chase him away? Why was he constantly making a mess of things and pissing off the ones he cared about?
Stop thinking so much, he admonished himself. With a growl, he grabbed his jacket off the chair beside him. He had a hand on the door knob when his brother’s voice stopped him.
“Dean?” Sam eyed him, wary of his mood, the hurt and anger almost palpable.
“Leave me alone, Sammy. I gotta get out of here.”
Dean slammed the door behind him, but not before his brother’s parting words reached his ears. “Just… be careful, Dean.”
I sit alone in this winter clarity which clouds my mind,
Alone in the wind and the rain you left me,
Dean parked the Impala on the side of the highway, glaring out at the night. Every night, he called to Castiel, prayed to him, begged him to show his angelic face and each time, he was disappointed. Abandoned, alone, worthless.
“Damn you, Cas,” he growled into the empty night. “Why won’t you show yourself? Am I so unredeemable that even an angel won’t come to me?”
Dean didn’t need anybody, or at least, that’s what he told himself. Sammy was by his side because he was family and family watched out for each other. Mostly. Because, let’s be honest, his dad never had been all that good at it, had he? But need? No, he didn’t need a damn thing.
“None of this is Dad’s fault,” he scolded himself. “It’s all your damn fault, Dean. Own up to it.”
It hit him then that it really was all his fault and that he had to do something about it. Now, before things got any worse than they already were. He had to make it right with Cas before it was too late.
It's getting dark darling, too dark to see,
And I'm on my knees, and your faith in shreds, it seems.
Dean opened the door of the Impala, breathing in the damp desert air. The scent of sagebrush mixed with mud tickled his nose, reminding him of where he had landed himself this time. Monsoon rain still poured from the sky above him, but it didn’t keep him from his task, the only thing left that might possibly bring his Cas back to him.
Climbing out, he looked around him, taking in the shadows of the cacti and mountains surrounding him. Shadows that could be hiding any number of things, scary things, evil things. At that moment, none of that mattered to Dean Winchester, the only thing that was on his mind was bringing Cas back. Bringing him home.
He fell to his knees beside the black beast he lovingly called Baby, body sinking into the rain soaked earth beneath him. Lifting his face to the sky, droplets landed heavily, splattering across his sun beaten skin. Searching for salvation in the sky, he began to pray.
Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown,
I know you have felt much more love than you've shown,
And I'm on my knees and the water creeps to my chest.
“Castiel, hear my words,” he began, attempting to take this more seriously than he ever had before. To make Cas see – hear – that he needs him, here, now. “Because I don’t know if I can ever say this again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being an ass, for being so stubborn. I’m just… sorry. We need you. Hell, I need you, man.” Something lodged in his throat, cutting off the words as he tried to speak them. Emotion, Dean, this is what it’s like to feel. The words trapped in his throat floated into his mind. I love you.
He knew he’d never be able to say them, not in a way that Cas could ever hear them, but his heart’s call would have to do because it was all he had left inside. Cas would understand. He had to understand. His gaze fell from the sky and landed on his clasped hands that rested on his thighs. It was too little too late.
“Dean,” the voice said, quiet yet commanding.
“Cas?” Dean lifted his head, searching the dark. “Is that you or am I going crazy. Again.”
“No, it’s me, Dean.” He cocked his head and studied his soaked friend on the ground. Taking three steps forward, he pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead, listening, and then removing them. “You are not crazy. I checked.”
“Oh Cas,” Dean half sighed, half groaned. Some things never changed, and this is one he was thankful for.
Rivulets of water rushed past Dean’s legs, carrying bits of the world around him along with it. The storm continued to dump onto the desert, washing the land clean, baptizing the arid ground with its powerful shower. He found Castiel’s face and locked onto it, hoping for sanctuary in those compassionate blue eyes. What he found there instead was something he hadn’t expected.
“Dean, why are you in the mud?”
He laughed, the stress of the past weeks breaking free and escaping. If there was one thing Castiel excelled at, it was snapping the tension between two people without knowing it. Probably also without understanding it. None of that mattered because he was here, with him, and he wasn’t going to let him leave again. Not before he could tell him the truth. “I was praying to you, Cas. And you came.”
“Of course I came, Dean. You needed me.” Cas lowered himself into a squat, coming eye level to the man he called friend. He reached out and touched Dean’s face, brushing his cheek with the barest hint of fingertip. “You’ve been crying. Why?”
But plant your hope with good seeds,
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds,
Rain down, rain down on me,
Look over your hills and be still,
The sky above us shoots to kill,
Rain down, rain down on me.
“I haven’t been crying, damnit. It’s raining, haven’t you noticed that? I’m soaked and you are too.” He pulled back from Cas’ touch, trying to shield himself from the pain knowing always caused him.
He withdrew his hand, pulling it back to his side, shoving it into a pocket of the trench coat his vessel always wore. “I know it’s raining, that much is obvious,” he said, again studying the elder Winchester carefully. “What also should be obvious is that I can tell the difference between a mere raindrop and a teardrop borne of heartache.”
“Heart – no, no man, there’s no heartache here,” Dean lied, kicking himself as he did so. Why couldn’t he just say the words? Because if he knows, he’ll fly away and you’ll never see him again, that’s why. Everyone you love dies, Dean. Do you want Cas to die, too?
He did not.
Therefore, he had to lie. It was better in the end, he knew this. But it still sucked. It hurt, damn it all, it hurt worse than anything he’d ever experienced before – and that was a varied lot of hurt. But for Cas, he’d endure Purgatory all over again. Twice. On a Sunday.
But I will hold on
I will hold on hope, but I will hold on, I will hold on hope, and I will hold on I will hold on hope, but I will hold on I will hold on hope, I will hold on I will hold on.
If it kept Castiel near, he’d do whatever it took, even lying to the man – angel – that he loved. He could do this because the reward was worth more than the price he was bound to pay. The price of never being allowed to hold him or love him, but to only ever be his friend.
It was a million times better than the alternative.
“Cas, I’m sorry. I – ”
“Why are you sorry, Dean? You’ve done nothing wrong, only what you’ve been forced to do by the world around you.” Cas gave him that patented puppy-dog look, the one with the tilted head and wide, alert eyes. That look damn near broke his heart.
I begged you to hear me, there's more than flesh and bones,
Let the dead bury their dead, they will come out in droves,
But take the spade from my hands and fill in the holes, you've made.
“I had to have done something, Cas. You left. You left all of us without a word. I called and I prayed but you never answered, not until tonight.”
“There was no other alternative, Dean,” Cas said, lowering himself to his knees. “I was confused, lost… I needed to figure out what was happening to me. Gabriel – ”
“That psycho is probably not the best person to go to for advice,” Dean snorted. “Why didn’t you come to me, Cas? Or Sammy? We would help you through anything.”
Cas looked away, smiling as a coyote scurried from bit of shelter to bit of shelter, dodging water droplets as he ran. “Poor lost soul,” he said, “I hope he finds his way home.” Turning back to Dean, he sighed, a breath on the stormy wind. “I know you would, but you see, you are the reason I was so confounded.”
“Me, Cas?” Dean ignored his blessing on the wayward coyote, focusing more on what he didn’t say than what he had said. “I’m the reason?”
Castiel held his hands out, palms up, eyes shining with the power burning within him. “Yes, Dean, you.”
“But why? Why me?” Dean reached out a hand, touching the lapels of Castiel’s worn and dirty coat.
“Because I think I love you.” His fingers moved towards Dean’s, hesitated, then pulled back, afraid.
But plant your hope with good seeds,
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds,
Rain down, rain down on me.
“Of all the souls on this planet, why choose this broken, battered, unholy one? Why choose me?” His face was twisted in anguish, his true feelings showing through his eyes.
“Because you are broken and battered and imperfect, Dean,” Cas informed him. “That’s what angels do, why we are here. We heal people, we fix things, we make the world right. But more than anything, we redeem those who need it most, those who think there’s nothing left worth saving. People like you.”
“I’m not worthy,” he whispered.
“And because you know that makes you worthy, Dean.” It was something only an angel could say and make it sound believable.
The truth rang in those simple words even as denial battled against it. Cas had forgiven him for – for whatever it was he’d done – and he’d come back. Back to me, he thought. He wasn’t certain he could ever believe the words that Cas had said to him, the he was worthy of redemption nor could he ever conceive that he was good enough to receive such a heavenly love, but the fact remained. Castiel loved him.
Son of a bitch.
“Cas,” Dean struggled, each word an effort to speak. “I think – no, I know – I love you, too. Worthy or not, I fucking love you, you mangy angel.”
“And I fucking love you as well, assbutt.” Castiel stood, holding out a hand. “Come, Sam must be worried by now.”
Dean nodded, agreeing with Castiel’s assumption. Sam was always worried about something, tonight it just happened to be his big brother. Taking the angel’s extended hand in his own, he rose to his feet, coming eye to eye with his patient gaze. “Where do we go from here, Cas?”
Castiel looked at him as if he were simple minded. “Back to the hotel,” he stated. “Isn’t your brother awaiting your return?”
Lips stretching into what Sam had started calling his ‘let’s humor Cas’ smirk, Dean shook his head, unable to deny it. “Yeah, Cas, he is. Hop in, angel boy.”
The Impala tore off the shoulder and back onto the highway, gravel and mud spraying from under her wheels. Dean’s attention focused on the unlit road ahead of him, headlights spilling onto the worn asphalt. While he might not ever fully accept that salvation truly was an option, not for him, not really, maybe he could hold out some hope for the rest of the world. For Sammy, or Bobby, or hell, even his father.
In that silent moment, with nothing but the sound of the rain on the roof and the roar of the engine, anything was possible.
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Date: 2014-04-21 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-21 05:41 pm (UTC)