Cursed or not (Destiel)

The first new moon

"I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be.
I'm not a hero. I'm not strong enough."
Dean to Castiel 4x16

A residential area in some new town on one of those dark nights. Merely a few lanterns gave off their cold light here and there, half covered by the surrounding trees. Their soughing in the wind was the only thing that broke the silence of this tranquil appearing street of modest small single-family houses.
A blond man stood tottering against a car. Shadows danced on his face. He clung to his phone while listening for the dial tone. Then a click on the line.

"Sam? Can you pick me up?" There lay something in his voice that only those who were sure of him were able to recognize. The color of a memory that made the timbre oscillate deeply.

A bar at the next new moon, the smell of stale cigarette smoke, the taste of the last drink still on the tongue, the clicking of pool balls. A pretty brunette at the next table, a smile here, a compliment there, Dean in his element. One thing had led to another. And now he was standing here in the flickering light of a street lamp.

"What? Why? You have the car", his brother sounded drowsy. He heard the rustle of bedding on the other end. The call must have woken him, torn out of one of those rare good dreams.

"I can't drive." Dean was surprised that he had even managed to dial the number. His jittery hands had hardly wanted to obey him.

"Are you drunk?", the annoyed undertone was unmistakable even over the phone, "Should I walk all the way from the motel to you?"
In a few days November displaced October. At night it was already quite frigid. Soon the first frost on the ground would twine its merciless shackles around the roots of the trees. Understandable that Sam wasn't too eager to go out.

"1537 Constantine Road. Please, pick me up", the older one requested urgently, almost pleadingly. That was not like him. No, it was downright unnatural how it came out of his lips. A behavior completely out of the norm. An abundantly clear warning sign.

Alarmed by the trembling in his brother's voice, Sam sat up and took notice. Suddenly he was wide awake. The swaying, the stumbling of his otherwise imperturbable rock-solid older brother worried him profoundly. "Dean, what happened?"

It had been exhilarating, unlike all the countless times before. Exhilarating in a scary way. He had tried to fight it and he had lost, control and himself. All his morals and principles had been washed away. All that remained had been solely his impulses, his urges, like an animal. It was only after his desires had been satisfied that he had heard the faint weeping below him.
And now he was standing here in the flickering light of a street lamp, trying to remember her name. It did not work. He didn't even know her name anymore.

Dean lowered the phone. He didn't know if he had said anything else. He didn't know how long he had been standing here. He didn't know how much time had passed before Sam showed up. The car key fell from his shaking fingers as he was about to hand it over. His brother picked it up.

"Get in", the younger Winchester said, but the one addressed didn't respond. "Dean, get in." Gently Sam touched him on the shoulder and he winced as if he had hit him. Dean avoided the worried look of his brother and went to the passenger seat with his limbs stiff from the cold. He hadn't noticed it, the cold.

The taller one drove faster than usual. White, yellow and red lights blended into indefinable streaks that lit up, glared and then disappeared again into the darkness as if they had never been there. Dean looked apathetically out of the window, watched the world go by and saw nothing nevertheless.

Sam turned into a street. The rhythmic sound of the blinker entered hollow and dull his hearing.
"No, not to the motel. I want to go home, Sam. Just take me home..." He had spoken for the first time since their phone call. The words crept scratchy and sharp-edged from his throat, as if they were struggling to be spoken.

"Okay, I'll only get our stuff out of the room." Then they would drive to the bunker. Sam gave his brother a worried questioning glance, but he didn't respond. No annoyed snorting, not even rolling his eyes. The incensed screaming or angry silent Dean, he could bear, but this now, this was different. It scared him.

It hadn't been a prayer, more a desperate cry for help from a soul, that had brought the angel to this place. Trees rustled in the wind. Dark clouds were drifted across the nocturnal firmament. The sky looked like it wanted to rain, but it wasn't raining, just like it couldn't.

Everything would be fine, Castiel had kept telling himself, it would go like the 78 times before since they had known each other. A casual acquaintance, that what people called love for a couple of hours, then Dean had always come back. Except for the one time with Lisa, when Sam had sacrificed himself. He could still remember it well. Something that had never happened since. Evermore Dean had stuck to brief diverting encounters, no fixed ties. He didn't know why he was relieved about it.

But this time it was different. Castiel had paced up and down nervously. Something was wrong. A perturbation, an interference in their connection, like white noise. Similar to back then during the episodes triggered by the Mark of Cain. When Dean had been a demon, he had not at all been able to sense him anymore. A strange and frightening feeling. He had felt so alone. That should never happen again. He would never let it get that far again. Because Castiel could barely or wanted to remember his life before the human. He had been someone else. Maybe Dean had made him who he had always been supposed to be.

An uneasiness had taken hold of the angel that he hadn't been able to assign. Their connection had buzzed vaguely, strained and indistinct. He had gotten sick, he hadn't known what was going on. Only that something was wrong, he had foreseen. The uncertainty had gnawed at him and driven him to the edge of despair. Then all of a sudden this clear signal and he had known what to do.

Indeed Castiel had carved the Enochian sigils into the ribs of the brothers so that he shouldn't have been able to find Dean, but he had been able to determine his exact whereabouts. It had literally drawn him to the human. Whose longing had been so strong, so intense, always present. Like a clear picture in otherwise white noise. A beacon in complete darkness. It had been more than a prayer, everything in Dean had been screaming for him.

And now Castiel was standing here in the flickering light of a street lamp.

"You don't think you deserve to be saved."
Castiel to Dean 4x01