The Knock (Destiel)

Chapter thirty

30. Just how much can a heart take

A/N: sort of a small, sad filler chapter. Listened to the Supernatural version of Americana while writing it, so I recommend to listen to it while reading.

Dean slammed the door of his room shut, his hands shaking, a glass filled with whiskey in his right. All he could hear, were the broken words that Castiel had spoken behind the closed bathroom door.

I'm in love with Dean Winchester.

Although there had been times where he thought that the angel had a thing for him, he had never really given it much thought. Yes, Balthazar may have made some sarcastic remarks about Castiel's love for Dean and yes, Castiel gave up his home and family for him and his brother, but love? Dean didn't know what to think.

The liquor burned down his throat, as he chugged down the contents inside the glass. He looked at the now empty glass and sighed. To forget that encounter, he needed more drinks. He wanted to get so drunk that he wouldn't even remember Castiel's name.

So that's what he did.

Not even twenty minutes later, he found himself at a bar, drowning down shot after shot. The weird thing was, that it wasn't the fact that Castiel loved him in a romantic way that freaked him out. No, he could not believe that somebody could actually care about him in that way. I mean, who did he trust these days? Sam? Castiel? That was about it.

However, he did not see how anybody could love the broken mess that he was, especially Castiel. Besides, he was a guy. Dean Winchester did not date guys. Then he remembered that angels had no official gender. This made him even more frustrated.

"Looks like you're having a rough night," a voice ended his thoughts abruptly. He looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing there. In the few seconds that he looked at her, he noticed how much she resembled to Castiel. Her hair was dark, long and wavy, shoulder length. The only thing different was that her blue eyes looked curious yet mischievous, while Castiel's were more innocent and somehow seemed so much older. Maybe that's because he had seen so much in his long life. He turned back towards his now almost emptied glass and chuckled dryly.

"You could say that, yes." The woman sat down next to him, exaggerating her every move. Of course Dean noticed this, which caused him to pay full attention to the unknown woman. This - she - was the perfect way to forget about Castiel.

"The name's Julia," she woman smirked, before ordering a drink herself. He turned towards her, a playful interested look on his face and held out his drink.

"Winchester. Dean Winchester."

Two hours later, Castiel and Sam were talking rather joyfully when Dean and Julia stumbled in, both seemingly intoxicated. The two men shared a worried glance. When the two of them started to make out in front of them, Castiel flinched and looked away. Sam coughed awkwardly, making the couple split.

"And who might this be, Dean," Sam asked, his teeth clenched, a fake smile on his face. Dean just smiled drunkenly, putting his arm around Julia.

"This is June. Isn't she pretty?" he slurred. The woman giggled, slapping his chest at the same time.

"It's Julia, silly,"

"That's what I said!"

"Alright, just keep it quiet and in the bedroom," Sam interrupted pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean nodded happily, and the both of them stumbled off towards his room.

In the mean time, Castiel had a hard time keeping it together. As good as it felt to talk to Sam about his concerns, the scene hurt like a bitch. He had given up everything for Dean. His home, his brothers. Hell, even his wings. It was not that he expected him to love him back, because that really wasn't his call to make. He just wished that Dean loved himself first.

Ignoring the younger Winchester's protests, he left the room, tears brimming his the corners of his eyes. He just wanted to be alone, just like he used to be in the Djinn's world. Now that his grace had almost completely vanished, he wished he had it back. Back in heaven he never had to feel lonely, betrayed, hurt.

Once again he was crying. Hurriedly, he walked passed Dean's room, trying to block the pleasurable noises coming from behind the locked door. Why did it seem so much worse now? Why did he not experience this much pain in his dream world?

Deep down he knew that his time unconscious triggered a lot. He had seen, done so much in his life. He had just never realised the guilt one man could feel over all these small things. Hell, he had never loved before.

He was almost choking on his own sobs by now. He didn't even make it to a room, as he just crouched down a wall in the hallway and pushed his legs towards his chest. Every single emotion seemed to come up, making his head hurt. He slowly felt the last of his grace leave with a trail of tears, as if it was waiting for the realisation. The more he cried, he more human he appeared to be.

Much to his surprise, someone sat down beside him. Although his vision was clouded with tears, he knew it was Dean. He could smell traces of alcohol, but it looked like Dean hadn't drunk as much as he had expected.

"Why are you here?" He croaked out, his voice muffled due to the fact his head rested between his legs. Dean chuckled lightly, but it didn't seem harsh.

"Sam threw Julia out. He's absolutely livid. He said that you needed me," he said. At those words, Castiel calmed down slightly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was listening behind the door when you told Sam - you know - the thing. I freaked out and brought her home to calm down. I didn't know it would hurt you this bad."

Tears were starting to fall once more. Castiel knew this would happen. As he had expected, Dean did only like him as a brother and freaked out at his words. This is what he wanted to avoid.

"Let's just forget that confession," Castiel replied, not looking Dean in the eye. He hated his suggestion, but it was for the best. He would rather have Dean as a friend than no Dean at all.

No words were spoken between the now two humans. Castiel had stopped crying, but felt numb. Dean seemed to accept his offer, which he supposed was a good thing. Oh, who was he kidding, he hated the idea. He wanted to scream at him, hit him, tell him how stupid he was, that he could be his world, all he would ever need.

Instead, he stood up and walked away, leaving a tipsy and confused Dean behind on the ground. Never did he look back to see a tear fall down Dean's cheek, longing for him to come back.