Writing's on the Wall Destiel

Chapter 11

Dean was confused when he woke up. For a second, he forgot where he was until he looked around the room. Right. He was at Bobby's house. Rolling over to look at the time, he saw that it was five in the morning. "Ugh."

Deciding he couldn't sleep anymore, he decided to get out of bed. Having dressed in his clothes the night before, he had no need to change as he trudged to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, looking up only when his face was dripping wet.

Yesterday's situation came back to him.  He had done it. Unintentionally, he had jump started what might as well be the apocalypse.

As he turned to the mirror again, there was another version of him inside the mirror. "We need to talk," it told him.

"I get it. I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare, is that it? Huh? Kind of like the Superman III junkyard scene? A little mano y mano with myself?"

"Joke all you want, smart-ass. But you can't lie to me. I know the truth." The reflection looked Dean in the eye. "I know how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror... and hate what you see."

Dean swallowed and out on a smirk. "Sorry, pal. There not gonna work. You're not real."

"Of course I am. I'm you." Dean started as his reflection blinked and revealed a pair of yellow eyes before they returned to normal. "You should never had made that deal. What was it really worth, saving Sam? You jump started probably the last war in time."

"Shut up. I had to. He's my brother."

"I mean, there's a damn war coming and you can't stop it. Talk about low self esteem." The reflection chuckled and stared darkly at Dean. "Then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh you know. I mean, after all, you've got nothing outside of Sam. And you know what you are? You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog."

"That's-That's not true."

"No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?"

Dean just glared at his reflection, not admitting or denying anything. However, his fist trembled, giving away that he believed every word spoken.

"No. No, all there is is, 'Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy!' You can still hear your Dad's voice in your head, can't you? Clear as a bell."

Dean forced a smile onto his face, seething with anger at these old wounds being reopened. "Just shut up."

"I mean, think about it."

Dean's smile faded when he knew that his reflection wasn't giving up any time soon. "Hey. I said stop."

"all he ever did is train you, boss you around." Dean whirled to his left and there was another copy of him, smirking. "But Sam .... Sam he doted on. Sam, he loved."

"I mean it. I'm getting angry."

Dean's copy went on as if he hadn't been interrupting. "Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. So who cares if you die in this war?" He stepped closer to Dean, dark with fury. "Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shoved his lookalike angrily, knocking him against the bathroom wall. Hidden emotions, kept in rein for so many years, now emerged and surfaced as his rage built one brick after another of hatred. "My father was an obsessed bastard!"

He kicked his lookalike in the stomach and continued punching him. "All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He-He's the one who let Mom die!"

Dean ducked a swing and kneed the clone in the groin. "He was never there for Sam! I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me!"

He gave a swift kick one last time as he screamed, "And I don't deserve to die in the goddamn war!"

He smashed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. As shards of glass fell around him, Dean began to think it ironic. How strange, that everything he'd believed in had come crashing down, and he was left to pick up the remains. The reality of what he had done sank in and he sat hard in the floor, not moving. His eyes remained fixated on a spot on the wall for hours, not moving when Bobby or even Sam tried to make him.

At last, Castiel came in. He took one look at the smashed mirror and knew what happened. "Dean...why did you punch the mirror?"

"I wasnt. I was punching the idiot behind it."

Castiel nodded and took his hand to heal it, but Dean pulled his hand away. "No, don't heal it. I had it coming, anyway."

"You didn't. You don't. You never will."

Tears began welling up in Dean's eyes. "Cas, tell me the truth. Did I start the war?"

Castiel debated on answering. He wanted so badly to decline, to tell Dean everything would be alright, but he couldn't. He would have been lying to his best friend and he would have been giving him false hope. He knew he needed to tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt. "Yes."

Dean sucked in a breath and looked at the floor, his blood dripping from his knuckles to the broken glass on the floor. "It's all my fault. It's always my frigging damn fault!"

"Dean, it's not!"

"I should have known!"

"You couldn't have known! How could you?" Castiel sighed and reached out his hand. "Let me heal it. Please."

Dean relented, staring numbly at the floor as Castiel healed his wounds with one touch. "Am I going to survive, Cas? Sam? Bobby?"

"You will."

"How do you know? You said heaven won't tell you anything."

"Because I will make it happen." Castiel swore silently on his promise as he looked at his best friend. "I promise, Dean, that I will get your friend, your brother and you out of this alive."

They exchanged another long glance in their history of shared looks before they began putting themselves to work, cleaning up the broken bits of glass and the shards of Dean's life.