( He's retained some memories of those eight hundred years. Not all, not everything, a lot of it's blurry — the truth is, the human mind wasn't built to be able to recall that much information. He has impressions, though. Feelings about himself, who he was, who he became. He'd like to think he felt steadier, the older he got. More patient, more calm, more mature. Better able to wade through the sea of emotions in his chest and parse them with a level head. It was harder with Cas, with all the crap surrounding them, with how fraught their arguments got, but-
He was okay at it then. He wants to be able to retain some of that now, he wants to keep the wisdom he earned in that alternate universe. He put a lot of work into understanding himself, and feeling it all slip away like grains of sand is frustrating. The tighter he grips, the faster it sieves through his fingers.
Part of him is angry. Part of him hurts. Part of him feels abandoned. There's more than a small handful of grief, now that those back home memories feel prevalent and recent — more real now than the godly memories do. The ache of loss is still a hollow pang, Cas's death hit harder than almost anyone's. As much as his mother's did the first time. As much as his father's did the first time. He feels robbed, cheated, and knowing — knowing that Jack brought him back, but that he stayed gone? Hurts worse.
And it all loops right back around again to anger, because it's easier for Dean to feel angry than to feel left behind.
He doesn't want to be angry anymore. He's tired. He was supposed to have been done, finally. He feels old, older than his body gives him credit for. Not just because of those hallucinated lifetimes of memory, but the extra almost-decade's worth crammed in from home.
With rocks is just Castiel enough for a spike of fondness to interrupt his sea of too-many-feelings, and he lets out a soft huff of breath — but doesn't correct it. He goes about the motions, pulling down a glass, filling it with a few cubes of ice, topping it with mid-shelf whiskey. Quietly, he slides the glass across the bar to Castiel's seat. Then goes about pouring his own, because screw it, he might as well. He's probably gonna need it.
Jo's gone. He has to remind himself Cas is probably hurting too, and Dean being away... not being there for him through it? Is a shitty move on his part. He sees it now in hindsight, he feels guilty for it, but he doesn't know where in the hell to even begin with unpacking it all. It's just issue stacked on top of issue on top of issue, all grappling for priority and precedence. How do you start dealing with one without dealing with the others first? )
no subject
He was okay at it then. He wants to be able to retain some of that now, he wants to keep the wisdom he earned in that alternate universe. He put a lot of work into understanding himself, and feeling it all slip away like grains of sand is frustrating. The tighter he grips, the faster it sieves through his fingers.
Part of him is angry. Part of him hurts. Part of him feels abandoned. There's more than a small handful of grief, now that those back home memories feel prevalent and recent — more real now than the godly memories do. The ache of loss is still a hollow pang, Cas's death hit harder than almost anyone's. As much as his mother's did the first time. As much as his father's did the first time. He feels robbed, cheated, and knowing — knowing that Jack brought him back, but that he stayed gone? Hurts worse.
And it all loops right back around again to anger, because it's easier for Dean to feel angry than to feel left behind.
He doesn't want to be angry anymore. He's tired. He was supposed to have been done, finally. He feels old, older than his body gives him credit for. Not just because of those hallucinated lifetimes of memory, but the extra almost-decade's worth crammed in from home.
With rocks is just Castiel enough for a spike of fondness to interrupt his sea of too-many-feelings, and he lets out a soft huff of breath — but doesn't correct it. He goes about the motions, pulling down a glass, filling it with a few cubes of ice, topping it with mid-shelf whiskey. Quietly, he slides the glass across the bar to Castiel's seat. Then goes about pouring his own, because screw it, he might as well. He's probably gonna need it.
Jo's gone. He has to remind himself Cas is probably hurting too, and Dean being away... not being there for him through it? Is a shitty move on his part. He sees it now in hindsight, he feels guilty for it, but he doesn't know where in the hell to even begin with unpacking it all. It's just issue stacked on top of issue on top of issue, all grappling for priority and precedence. How do you start dealing with one without dealing with the others first? )