Soldier Boy

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dean felt nothing.

No, that was wrong. He felt too many things to be able to tell one emotion from another.

His heart hurt so much that it had become numb.

He was on some base- he couldn't even remember which one now- in Iraq, and his father was on the base too. Dean had risen in the ranks fast, but it was only due to his father's connections, his skills, and his determination. It wasn't public knowledge, but Dean was also assisting on the strategizing- with his father's supervision.

In fact, everything Dean had done had been scrutinized by his father. Nothing Dean did was ever done without his father's knowledge. It was beginning to be suffocating.

Despite the base's ample space, he felt as if the walls were closing in on him. It didn't help that he never had a moment's peace. Every moment he didn't have duties to attend to, there was always some woman waiting for him in his private quarters. At first, it had been a bit awkward, knowing that John had sent them. Then, it had been kind of pleasant. Always having some unnamed woman that he could forget his troubles with. Now, it was suffocating once again.

He knew why John sent them. He knew their purpose. It hasn't been a surprise when he'd realized that they all were brown-eyed or green-eyed blondes or red-heads. They were brought in to make him forget about the boy Dean had left behind. They were supposed to make him forget about the only boy in the world who he had succumbed to. John Winchester was no idiot. He knew there was only one boy who Dean could have possibly developed feelings for, and he sought to erase him from Dean's mind and heart.

Dean was supposed to forget.

The only problem is that he can't.

Every time he held them, he would imagine it was Castiel. Every time they touched him, he imagined their hands bigger and calloused. One time, John had made the oversight of bring in a short-haired woman, and he had clutched her hair and pretended it was Cas's. One girls' green eyes had flecks of blue that almost went unnoticed, but he'd seen them and had fucked her where the lights hit her eyes perfectly to cause them to appear blue. One girl was well-muscled, instead of the normal, soft girls, and he'd felt every part of her that reminded him of Castiel's body. One girl was the same height, and he'd just held her in his arms all night, tucking her into his body to where he could believe the head resting on his chest was his best friend instead of some stranger. He'd paid them all not to tell his father of his stranger behavior, knowing they probably reported these sorts of things to him, and they'd all complied.

He'd also paid them to never tell John that when he was with them, he would moan Castiel's name.

Every time Castiel would call, Dean had to force himself not to answer, to remember that this was for the best. That Castiel deserved someone who was good and whole, not some broken toy soldier that could never be fixed.

But every day, he would listen at night to Castiel's voicemails, old and new, and imagine that voice as he screwed those women who did nothing to fill the void in his heart. Some of the women would shed a few tears for him when he would begin crying in the middle of his time with them, gently wipe the tears off his face and tell him that he should try to call, or meet with, whoever he loved so dearly.

Then he would laugh and sob, knowing he could never be with Castiel. Not after all he'd done.

He refused to call Sam either. He wouldn't answer his baby brother's calls. How could he? Sam outed him to John. Sam made his choice that night. He'd chose his precious boyfriend over Dean. He'd wanted to hurt their dad, but hurt Dean in the process. How could he forgive him for that?

Most nights, he found himself wishing he could forgive Sammy. He missed his little twerp of a brother. He missed their calls, missed Sammy's voice. He missed the brat- almost as much as he missed Castiel.