(no subject)

[pinkandyellow]

Mechanical.

When the Doctor left, she'd been shut down. Spent days, weeks, sobbing and immobile and useless, confined to her room. This was... different. Emptiness. She carried on, blankly, with no emotion behind her actions. For a week, she had no real, original thought. She woke up. Took a shower. Cleaned. Went to work. Ignored her coworkers. Went home. That's it. Talked to no one. Turned off her phone, turned off her T.V. She existed, the end. 

There was no funeral- there was no body, no record of his existence. Nobody even knew him. She hadn't been able to get a hold of Dean and Sam. Well, that was a lie. She hadn't bothered to try. Didn't even think about it. Never even occurred to her to tell them. She would, eventually. Besides them, only her family knew him, and she shut them out. Ignored the pounding on her door, ignored Pete's voice, and Jackie's voice.

At night, there was pain. She'd lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Trying not to think, but failing. At night, the world was empty, and she had no distraction from it all. And she remembered everything. The good memories, the bad ones, short but passionate, she remembered, and it hurt. Every single day for a week.

Except, today was Sunday. 

She woke up. He wouldn't want this. She couldn't... she couldn't give up like this. She couldn't tear down what he'd done like this. 

Today was Sunday.

Today, she needed to feel. 

Today, she went to the beach. 

Comments

[huffpuffblonde.livejournal.com]

She'd been prepared to go into a whirlwind of... something if he said anything thing other than yes. The second he did, though, her relief was clearly evident, some of the pain shifting away in her features in time with one long exhale, and then she was back, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. She squeezed her eyes closed, pressed her face into his neck, and she felt... safe, again.

"I missed you." This last week had been... it had been hell. It felt like coming home.

That cold he'd been feeling? She was starting to feel it, too. His clothes were soaked through, and her hair was dripping. His skin was damp and cool. "You're freezing."

[rebelledforyou.livejournal.com]

She was coming at him again. He was prepared to take another slap if she was upset still. His face tightened and his lips drew together. Nothing. No slaps. Just hugs. He had grown fond of her hugs. His arms slid around her and he held on for dear life. There was a small part of him that was scared that if he let go that tear would rip open and he'd be yanked right back through.

"I missed you too." He did not remember anything from his week away, but he knew the aching inside of him had been from him missing her. It had been from him wanting to see her once more.

"It is quite cold out there--and raining as well." He said it as if she didn't know. Her clothes were quite damp. "I had to walk here." He drew back to look at her. "You look beautiful." It was true. Maybe he was getting swept up in that moment, but that was doubtful. This was just how he felt.

[huffpuffblonde.livejournal.com]

Her laugh was soft, surprised, incredulous. Really, Castiel? She'd had no sleep, hardly any food, her hair was limp and she looked... he was such a nutter. Such an amazing, wonderful, brilliant, alive nutter. "You're rather pretty, yourself."

Well, he was. The term 'sight for sore eyes' didn't seem entirely accurate enough to explain it. He was gorgeous, simply for having a heartbeat. If she didn't get him out of his wet clothes, though, he was going to die again, this time of pneumonia. She pulled away to take his hand, to lead him to the bedroom for clothes. A towel. And she needed to change, as well. By now, she was shivering. Had she been for long? She hadn't noticed. She paused for a second in the hallway, glancing back at him, brow furrowed. "How... did you... where...?"

[rebelledforyou.livejournal.com]

Oh and there is that smile. The angel looked down and shook his head. He would probably never get used to her saying that about him. It was a term associated with women mostly so to have it used for him made the angel a little goofy and quite possibly nervous about it. Maybe not nervous. Red faced? Yeah. Red faced was a lot more accurate.

He allowed her to lead him towards the bedroom. They paused though and he perked up. "I don't know. I woke up behind a building on my own. I don't remember anything else from that week. The last thing I remembered was smiling at you." Then the pain. The intense pain.

[huffpuffblonde.livejournal.com]

She didn't mean it in in a way that implied he wasn't masculine. She really didn't. Had he seen himself lately? Heard his own voice? Glanced in a mirror? He was perfectly male, she had the experience to back it up. It just... really, more than anything, was a term of endearment. Unique.

She furrowed her brow, though, at his explanation. That didn't make any sense. A universe-eating soul-sucking tear in reality, and he ends up without a scratch a week later in an alley? Then again... well, she'd asked for a sign, hadn't she?

She smiled at him, wryly. "Alright, then. Good enough for me."

The afterlife could keep their mystery, frankly, she didn't care as long as they brought him back. "Also, if you try to boss me about like that again, I will slap you."

[rebelledforyou.livejournal.com]

He would have to look into what had brought him back. He was just as curious as her if not more. If they brought him back for good intentions then that was great. If they had darker motives in mind when they brought him back then he was a little worried about it. He'd get to the bottom of it eventually, but right now he didn't want to leave her.

He frowned immediately at the threat of a slap. "I would really like to avoid being slapped again by you. So I will take that into consideration." Meaning he would not try to get bossy like that again. It really had hurt.

He moved up behind her and slid an arm around her waist. He kissed her neck and let out a content sigh. Another kiss there and another kiss here. He could be quite affectionate when brought back from the dead. What new information.

[huffpuffblonde.livejournal.com]

Some investigation would definitely have to be done. She was still hoping for the whole 'sign from God' thing, but it would be nice to have the surety that it wasn't something... other than that. She wasn't about to push her luck, though. He could snoop around all he wanted. Torchwood could butt out, as well. As a matter of fact, she probably wouldn't tell Torchwod he was alive. Just better that way, the nosy bastards.

"That's good. The slaps don't come often, mate." If you slapped too frequently, it stopped being a threat. People just... got used to it. Immune? Maybe. Either way, it tended to drive people away. The slaps were to be handed out with caution, like the One Ring or something. She was, however, amused by his angelspeak for 'don't hit me'.

If there was ever a time to be affectionate, this was it. She leaned back into him, tension rolling off her shoulders as she relaxed into the embrace. Her arms moved to cover his, to thread her fingers through his own, and her eyes drifted shut.

If this was a dream, and she woke up, she would be so pissed.

[rebelledforyou.livejournal.com]

Not a dream. He hoped it wasn't a dream. He had a week wiped from his memory and he really hoped this wasn't the beginning of some weird torture where they gave him the one thing he wanted and then took it away. If they took her away from him again he was going to be very upset with them. She felt real though so he had a little faith that this was completely legitimate.

His arm stayed firmly wrapped around her from behind. His free hand slid down her thigh. His lips continued to move down her neck to her shoulder. Maybe he was just checking to make sure she was real? Either way he did not want to let her go or move away.

[huffpuffblonde.livejournal.com]

She was real. She was positive she was real. Or, as positive as any person could really be about their own existence. And he seemed rather real, himself, thank God.

And she was so unbearably glad he didn't let go. She didn't want him to. She really didn't want him to. Whether it was kissing, or holding, or just... flopping down somewhere and existing, as long as he was there, she didn't care. This, though... this was a very, very good idea. She tilted her head to the side, let it fall back against his shoulder. An arm came up, curling to slide into his hair, brush along the back of his neck and hold tight.

Maybe it was a bit redundant to point out the fact that he was alive, but... he was alive. She might break down, or explode, or laugh, or cry, or... or something. Damn, she loved him.

[rebelledforyou.livejournal.com]

Don't break down and cry. Castiel knew about happy tears, but he didn't always know when they were happening or when something warranted happy tears. He'd get the hang of that, but until then do not break down because he will not have a clue what to do.

Her hand in his hair was very nice. Gone was the aching and cold. It was replaced by a rush of warmth provided by her body pressed against his.

What a great welcome home present. Unwrapped and enjoyed--multiple times.