[ He'd done... everything Dean asked. And this is what Dean gives to him.
He's only half-listening to what Dean is saying, pushing the rifle off his lap and onto the cobblestones between them. He assumes Dean's gonna find that worth picking up - it is infinitely more useful than Cas on his own.
Cas snorts in amusement to himself as his mind merrily skips down a side path of its own jagged edges and into nostalgia. This is almost reminiscent of Dean stabbing him, all those years ago in a dark barn. Sparks flew, and Dean tried to kill Cas. Nothing much has changed, it seems. Except for everything in between, of course.
Lips still quirked up, Cas digs into the pockets of his jacket, finally breaking eye contact, because if there's one thing he doesn't need to keep seeing, it's that familiar empty, cold contempt directed his way. He puts the spare ammo on the gun, too. Easier than looting his body, after.
Fuck.
Trembling fingers hook into the beaded bracelets Cas wears, tugging on them a little bit. It does nothing to quell the onslaught of feelings he can't identify, has no names for. ]
You're unusually loquacious about this. And, uh. What I am is... done, I think. Yeah. Yeah...
no subject
He's only half-listening to what Dean is saying, pushing the rifle off his lap and onto the cobblestones between them. He assumes Dean's gonna find that worth picking up - it is infinitely more useful than Cas on his own.
Cas snorts in amusement to himself as his mind merrily skips down a side path of its own jagged edges and into nostalgia. This is almost reminiscent of Dean stabbing him, all those years ago in a dark barn. Sparks flew, and Dean tried to kill Cas. Nothing much has changed, it seems. Except for everything in between, of course.
Lips still quirked up, Cas digs into the pockets of his jacket, finally breaking eye contact, because if there's one thing he doesn't need to keep seeing, it's that familiar empty, cold contempt directed his way. He puts the spare ammo on the gun, too. Easier than looting his body, after.
Fuck.
Trembling fingers hook into the beaded bracelets Cas wears, tugging on them a little bit. It does nothing to quell the onslaught of feelings he can't identify, has no names for. ]
You're unusually loquacious about this. And, uh. What I am is... done, I think. Yeah. Yeah...