fassa
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Posts: 37
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Post by fassa on Jan 12, 2013 0:03:16 GMT -5
It really didn’t make sense - if Cas was pulled out at that time, how could he have been with them then? He had been really glad to see Castiel here, but now all he could think about was what had been said and done in the interim of their difference in their pull points.
Perhaps Castiel was right earlier, that this could be the work of angels because he had firsthand experiences with angels zapping him all over the place. But angels also tended to gloat, so where were they? None had shown up so far with speeches of Zachariah’s proportions, and even if that douchebag was alive, no angels could have been as creative as Gabriel - may he rest in Casa Erotica - with this whole setting.
So why here?
“This doesn’t make any friggin’ sense,” Dean huffed, bowing his head down- again, forefinger and thumb pinching the part of his nose between his eyes- again. God, what he wouldn’t do to get caff’d up right now. “Are you saying you’ve been here all that time? For a year?”
He raised his head, eyes searching for some kind of consolation in the angel’s face.
Dean wasn’t sure if it was important to him that this was the same Castiel who had went into the lion’s den with him to ice Dick Roman, especially since everything about him was so remarkably Castiel, just not yet the person he had come to treat like kin. He had been elated seeing him, and he still was, just not as before now that he knew they had no leads on this.
Cas looked concerned - possibly more worried than he had ever seen him to be - he was doing that thing he often did with his eyes, cutting a deep line between his brows. And the paper in his hand, he was still holding on tight to it. He thought about what he had said before, about dragon formations and the culture of the folks here - he felt like Cas wasn’t even trying to leave this place.
“What have you been doing since you got here?” He asked, voice straining as he tried to keep from sounding accusatory.
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Post by kthehuman on Jan 12, 2013 0:39:58 GMT -5
Castiel's head tilted to the side again when Dean asked that first question. "A year? No, Dean. I have only been here for a few days. I have explored the compound that they call a 'Weyr,' in which we currently reside." Castiel closed his eyes and turned his head down, lips pinched into a tight line. His unoccupied hand clenched and unclenched, and when he looked back at Dean, he knew he was angry. The emotion was so...overpowering that he hardly felt that he was in control of his body.
"Do not, Dean Winchester," he spat the man's name out with heavy punctuation, "blame me for the situation that we are in. Do not blame me for trying to make myself comfortable in a very confusing, completely frustrating situation," Castiel failed to recognize that his voice was raising in volume steadily, and he practically screamed his next words. "And do not blame me for not wanting to take you back to a world where you are CONSTANTLY IN DANGER!"
With that, Castiel turned and stormed into his apartment. He slammed the door, and quickly threw the papers in his hand on the desk. He felt like if he didn't move, all of the pent up anger would explode violently from his hands. So, with a rage-filled scream of anguish at the soiled reunion with his friend, he took two quick steps to his right and slammed both fists into the stone wall. He left his fists there, and rested his head between them. As the pain from the blow set in, his anger seemed to ebb and flow out of his body and into the wall. He stood there, panting and frightened by his own outburst.
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fassa
New Member
Posts: 37
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Post by fassa on Jan 13, 2013 1:01:47 GMT -5
The second Dean noticed Castiel was raising his voice, he knew he had done himself in.
A fucking great job.
He watched Castiel get angrier with each word, brows furrowing further, chest swelling. He flinched inwardly, his own agitations diluted. It stung. It stung him that Cas thought he blamed him for not appearing to want to help him back to their world; it was far from it. He was hurt that Cas had seemed to settle in so easily when he couldn’t do the same - the weight of responsibility bearing down on his shoulders - Sammy, the Leviathans, the unrelenting approach of the end of the world. Of course he was pissed that Cas didn’t see this the way he did.
Only he hadn’t expected Cas to fly into rage with all his placid, choirboy demeanour - or maybe he did, on a subconscious level, picking at the seams until they came apart; it was something he had not taken for granted in a while, not since Cas ripped him a new one back in an alley in South Dakota.
He stayed quiet, semi-stunned- then Castiel retreated in the direction of his room.
“Dammit- Cas,” Dean murmured, following him until he was cut off by a slamming door, Castiel’s words spliced with a memory from an ex from his teenage years, somehow distorting itself into a loop of “Dean Winchester, you are a jerk” in his head. He flashed an awkward smile at some curious Weyrfolk hurrying by, before he turned back to face the door again, muttering curses at himself under his breath.
"Cas!" He banged his fist against the door. Come on come on come on- “Cas!”
Dean exhaled, miserably wishing Castiel had punched him. God, did he really think he blamed Castiel for being here? He swung his fist again, but in the last second, he rested it against the door instead, thinking maybe they both needed a time out. Cas was pissed at him, and he was pissed at himself.
Fists clenched, he gave a frustrated kick at the base of the wall next to Castiel’s door. He stood there for a moment before he headed away from away from the apartments, without a destination in mind.
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Post by kthehuman on Jan 13, 2013 7:42:31 GMT -5
Castiel was embarrassed. Castiel was hurt. And, most of all, Castiel was confused.
Why had Dean made him so angry? While it did sound like Dean had been accusing Castiel of a multitude of things, Castiel knew there was more to it than that. Dean usually lashed out at others when he was most afraid. He was still leaning against the wall when he heard Dean bang against the door and call his name. He was frozen, torn with indecision. He did not want to face the consequences of his outburst, but he also did not want Dean to leave. They did just find each other, after all, and Castiel missed his friend very much. Perhaps Dean just wanted some time to himself, though?
Finally, Castiel decided that he would face Dean, and apologize for his hasty, thoughtless actions. He slowly made his way to the door, face set into its normal, expressionless self. When he opened the door, though, Dean was gone. Castiel took a few steps out, looking around carefully. There were a lot more people in the hallway now, and Dean was nowhere in sight. Castiel closed the door again, feeling...well, he wasn't quite sure. It was more like he was lacking emotion than anything else. On top of that, he was also exhausted. Odd, since it was probably only midday. He thought his exhaustion could be attributed to the emotional display that had occurred only moments ago. And although he thought his body may need nourishment, Castiel didn't feel particularly hungry. So he did not call down for his lunch. Instead, he crawled back into his bed, covered himself from head to toe in his blanket, and fell into a restless sleep.
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