A Grip On Reality (Destiel AU)

Moving On Once Again

April promptly kicked me out. I walked to my motel room in my disheveled clothes, getting strange looks from the occasional passerby. It was clear to me just how much of a whore I was; I was still horny.

Once I reached my room, I got a beer from the minibar. I drank myself into a light buzz. I checked the time. 2:10. Time was flying by unbelievably fast.

Once I finished off the little bottle of beer, I decided I needed a smoke. Since I used my lighter to burn that body this morning, I had to use a match.

I opened the window and lit up. I blew smoke out the window, watching as it was carried away by the slight breeze. As I smoked, I watched the traffic roll on by. Just a couple cars every now and then.

I made a little game out of it. I counted all the red cars and blue cars that passed, and I'd see which color showed up the most.

I was in such a bored state, I started counting to myself aloud. "Red... blue... blue," I puffed another cloud of smoke. "Shoot me."

By the time I finished the cigarette, red won by four. I crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the nightstand and flopped down on the bed. By now I was in nothing but my tee and boxers.

It was now 3:00 on the dot. I was climbing the walls. I started thinking about Dean again. That's all I ever seemed to think about anymore. He was the constant factor of my thoughts. Dean, Dean, Dean. The reason for me being me. But the question was, did I have him to thank or to blame?

I always questioned my lifestyle when I wasn't either smoking, drinking, or jerking off to online Asian porn. When he broke me, he changed me. But I still didn't know if it was for the better or the worst. I had complete and utter freedom, but often times, I wondered if it was everything I imagined. Everything I wished for.

I got my jacket off the floor and rummaged through the numerous pockets until I found what I was looking for. It was a little picture of me and Dean kissing. Back when we were still together. Back before I became... Z. When Castiel still lived on.

I felt hot tears fill my eyes. The pain he caused was too much. But I wouldn't cry. I haven't cried in years.

"What did I do?" I choked out past my tightening throat. "God, Dean, tell me what I did. Was it something I said? Something I did? What did I do, Dean? What did I do?"

I was so close to tears by now. But I couldn't cry. Castiel cries. Z carries on.

I choked back a sob and put the picture on the nightstand next to the ashtray. It must've been the booze or the depression, but when I laid back down, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

._.__._.

I was nailing her in a bathroom stall in some bar. She was almost as good as April. Almost.

We were making that stall shake because we were going so hard. I had her pinned to the wall by her wrists as I bucked my hips, my back arching as I reached my climax.

"Oh, baby," She moaned. "Oh, yes." Her back arched as well as she let out a loud moan.

"Oh yeah," I growled. "Oh. Yeah. Oh, god, yeah."

._.__._.

I snorted lightly as I awoke to the sound of knocking on the door, drooling all over the pillow. I realized the bed was wet again. I would never be satisfied.

"Huh? Wha-what!" I called, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Room service." The woman behind the door answered.