Crazy Mind -Destiel-

29- Where eagles dare

Dean doesn't bother to stand, instead he stays on the floor with his face pressed against the rug. His entire body refuses to stop shaking long enough for him to move, shallow breath struggles its way out of his body. Alive. How can he be alive? Dean tries to unclench his jaw but with every tremor that rushes through his body, it only seems to tighten until he feels like his teeth might shatter. With trembling hands, Dean digs his fingertips into the corners of his eyes and rubs hoping to somehow either stop his shaking or pass out. Anything other than this eternal limbo. The image of John disappearing flashes in his mind and Dean throws himself backwards trying to escape his own memory. 

His mind betrays him and shakily Dean forces himself back onto the couch. His back hits the seat and he folds himself under the blanket, staring blankly out the window. Alive? The word repeats again and again in his mind trying to convince him it's true. He knows it's not. It can't be. He yawns absently as stray tears fall down his face and the beginning of a headache throbs dully at the front of his head. 

Does he even want him to be alive?

Dean shakes his head trying to rid his mind of things he doesn't want to think about - or admit. Holding up his hand, he watches it shake and clenches it into a fist. His nails dig into his palm and he rolls his shoulders. 

It has to be a trick. He passed out from drinking. Dean eyes the bottles scattered across the room. He's drunk. Lonely. Scared. Dean looks back towards the window suddenly feeling like he's being watched. His gaze is blurry and unfocused and he feels his heart beat faster at the realisation that he's disadvantaged. He kicks the blanket off suddenly too hot, verging on sweating and stands. He watches the empty space outside, the darkness only lit by the moonlight. The night sky moves and sways with his vision and he knows there's nothing there but still the flash of a pale face darts in front of him. 

I could never hate you

Dean quickly turns away from the window, biting down on the mix of fear and bile crawling up his throat. Exhaustion pulls at his body as waves of anxiety and alcohol merge, but his mind refuses to rest. Wired on the theory that he can solve everything if he stays awake long enough he sits back on the floor. His stomach aches and his chest burns. He's got to stay awake and alert anyway now that Sam is back with him.

At the thought, Dean glances at the stairs and the pathetic part of his mind tells him to wake his brother up, that if he doesn't his brother may never wake up again but Dean forces himself not to move. Instead, he stares at the stairs until his eyes burn. With every blink, Dean has to force his heavy eyes open even though his body protests the movement. His very being feels jittery, unable to calm itself and no matter how much he moves he can't find comfort. 

Dean opens his hand and watches as the moon-shaped crescents fill with pinpricks of blood. He blinks. Blood filled hallways, screaming, the smell of burning flesh. Dean's eyes snap open as guilt plagues him. The angels ambushing them at the hospital, Uriel's offer, his and Castiel's argument. He knows no matter what he does someone is going to die because of him. People have already died because of him. Castiel's plan is to train him, help him gain control and defeat angels trying to effectively take over the earth but Castiel's plan is just that, Castiel's. 

Dean's mind changed the second he saw John in his dream. Dean has his own plan. He just doesn't know if he'll be able to go through with it. Sam is safe with Bobby and he's always said he'd do anything to keep Sam safe. Bobby can keep Sam away from John. Castiel won't be able to stop him, he knows that now. The thought had been sitting in the back of his mind since Gabriel appeared but his fear had gripped him and called him a coward. He'd been tempted by the idea that there was another way out of this.