broken ➳ destiel

seven

my dad has been really tough on me to get my grades up... so that's why updates are less frequent. I hope you guys enjoy though :)

"the saddest thing is when you are feeling real down, you look around and realize that there is no shoulder for you." unknown

☁

After Dean had left it was just Castiel, Sam, Bobby and John. It was super awkward and uncomfortable. Normally, if Dean was there it would be very lively and everybody would be happy. Dean could sort of bring everybody together even if they didn't like each other.  He brought fulfillment, although he was angry and wrathful he could be soft and vulnerable around the people he loved. 

But, most of them didn't like each other. Cas didn't really know all three of them like he does Dean and he doesn't like John. Sam doesn't know Cas that well but he still is nice to him, he loves Bobby and John however. Bobby hates John since their constant arguments and feels the same way Cas does towards him. John hates Castiel and Bobby.

They all sat there at the long table, all of them kind of separated. Cas sat at the seat closest to the stairs, picking away at the skin around his fingernails and pulling loose threads from his coat. Sam read a lore book and flipped the tattered pages by licking the tips of his fingers. The trench coated man bounced his head in a random beat. The stillness was stiffening, literally crickets were chirping outside, rubbing their wings to create the signature awkward music that played.

Sam spoke up, like he always did to break the quiet, "So.. are you guys hungry?"

They replied with a simple no. Cas was extremely bored and would literally do anything to lighten up his mood. He stood up, holding his knees and walked out of the room. Three heads turned and Cas felt their eyes lingering on his back. Footsteps quietly pattered across the wooden floor. Cas looked up in awe at the lights and his eyes sparkled. He made a sharp right and opened the door into his room.

Sighing, he sat down on his bed, peeled off his coat, folded it up simply and placed it at the foot of the bed. He slipped off his shoes and placed them against the wall. The ex-angel laid down on his bed and ensconced himself into the comforter, his upper back against the wall and his head crooked down. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Meanwhile, Dean was at a loud and roaring bar.. music deafening his ears as he chugged down shots of vodka and other weird substances. He could barely hear the sound of his own voice, that was asking for more and more until the alcohol drowned out the sound. 

Hundreds of people were at the bar that night, more and more people flooding in. Different people sat next to Dean but none of them seemed interested. There was even a guy with a nice ass that Dean caught himself looking at. He asked for one more drink, and then that would be his last one.

As he downed his third shot, he could hear his heart pounding in weird ways. His throat closed up and it wasn't the liquids closing it. It was another attack. Dean's breath got shaky as he dropped the shot glass and it shattered onto the ground. It was the last clear sound Dean heard. 

It sounded like he was underwater, the voices and music churning through an ocean. He could barely make out the screaming of the bartender, yelling at him for breaking property. The clearly intoxicated man's head felt as if it was spinning on a teapot ride in Disney World.  He couldn't tell if it was the Antica or the anxiety that was making him feel this way. Everything was in slow motion and he felt helpless. He felt like he was in a dream, falling off a cliff and trying to grasp anything to save him.