Title: The Guilt of Still Being

Chapter: Two

~~~~~~~~~~

The scenery passed in a blur, a visual accompaniment to Risa’s own racing thoughts. She couldn’t believe Dean was dead. It seemed wrong that he was dead, returned now to the dust of the ground, decomposing where he lay.

Ashes to ashes….

It would have been nice to have had the time to bury him. Or burn him, whatever he would have wanted. Castiel would have known that information.

She hadn’t loved him, though she had liked him one helluva lot. Even when he was a complete and utter bastard, there was still something about him that drew her. Had drawn her, rather. Risa thought that if time had allowed and he’d managed to keep his dick in his pants with other women, she might have grown to love him.

She pressed her forehead to the glass of the side window, eyes closing.

Castiel was driving. He seemed to have the rudiments of a plan, which was more than she did at present, so she didn’t argue about who drove.

In the dark the night before, he’d asked if she meant what she’d said right outside the camp -- that she’d give him her body if he came with her. She’d meant it. This wasn’t a world she wanted to be alone in and Risa knew he’d be good company. She knew he’d take care of her needs if she did the same for his, whatever those needs were. Maybe they hadn’t socialized much in the camp, but Dean had put them together on missions before.

Dean had once made a comment that she had a lot in common with Castiel. At the time, she’d thought he was being sarcastic, as she’d just questioned an order he’d given, a thing that Castiel did with ease, as though he had no fear of Dean losing his temper. Castiel knew better than anyone how far Dean could be pushed.

Now she wasn’t so sure questioning his order was what he’d been referring to. The cd’s and tapes she’d seen in the cab of the truck were all artists Risa herself listened to and the three books Castiel had shoved beneath her seat looked like stories she’d like to read when he was finished with them.

She sighed.

Nor could she believe, in the light of day, that she’d had sex with Castiel and had been the one to initiate it. Logically, she knew it had happened, the memory was there. Her mind just didn’t want to process it.

-- His weight on her, knees nudging her thighs apart. His stomach brushing hers, his face buried in her neck. --

She shifted uncomfortably. Sooner or later she was going to have to face her own actions. All of her actions.

But not today.

Today she was still too raw from what had happened the day before. Everyone she’d known for the past months was gone, except for Castiel. The way of life was gone, as was any illusion of safety. They were now outside those walls, traveling in an insane world. She couldn’t retreat to her cabin, or relax in any sort of comfort. In order to do any relaxing, they’d have to find a new place to call home and prepare it. There was no going back. Whatever happened now, she and Castiel were a team. They had to stand together, united in survival.

Reaching out, she flipped on the heater and settled back in the seat. Slowly, Risa drifted to sleep. It seemed that no sooner had she closed her eyes than she was being shaken awake. The truck was stopped, the engine idling.

“Are we there,” she asked groggily, stretching a little, then fumbling for her seatbelt.

Castiel stood in the open passenger door, hands helping her turn and slide out to stand, his voice oddly strained as he replied, “No. The bridge I’d intended to take is washed out. We had to circle back and go around.”

“So why are we stopped?”

He didn’t step back. Instead, he stepped closer, body pressing to hers. Risa put her hands on the doorframe to steady herself. The truck was on the side of the road and the only other sounds besides the truck and them were the birds and the wind in the trees. She glanced around. The road was deserted, no other vehicles in sight. The clouds in the sky looked swollen, bruised, and she could smell rain.

His hands skimmed up her sides beneath her jacket, then around, fingers grazing against the curves of her breasts. “Is that clear enough,” he asked. “Or maybe this is clearer?” Lowering his hands, he unfastened her belt. “I want you, Risa.” He slid his fingers along the flesh just above the waistband of her jeans. That touch tickled a little. “Now.”

She made a convulsive movement back, away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

One hand raised again, cupping her jaw, thumb sweeping across her lower lip. “You promised. When I want. Even if it’s by the side of the road in broad daylight.” His eyes widened a fraction, his lips trembling. “You promised.”

He was hurting inside. Risa could see the glint of that pain in his eyes and the need for something to dull that pain. That something he wanted was her. “Okay.” She nodded, releasing her grip on the doorframe and relaxing back against him. “Okay, Castiel.”

His mouth covered hers, tongue darting hot and quick. Now wasn’t the time for slow and tender, his kiss reflecting that. Castiel pulled back. “Turn.” When she put her back to him, he lifted her hair away from her neck and placed a kiss there. “Take your jeans and panties down.”

Risa did as he told her, hearing the rustle of his own clothes behind her. He took her like that, with her legs spread as far as the jeans would allow and her body bent against the passenger seat. She closed her eyes and pretended he was using a condom, when she knew damn well he wasn’t. In the back of her mind was the vague memory of Dean telling her that Cas ‘wasn’t really consistent with the birth control’. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. She supposed she should care now, but honestly? Risa didn’t care at all. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

When their clothes were back in place and she was facing him once more, he held her, his arms tight around her and cheek pressed to hers. He shivered against her, gulping and sobbing, his breath hot against her. Risa embraced him, stroking his hair with her hands in soothing passes. “Shh….” He sagged against her until it was she holding him, while he clung to her like a lifeline.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, him crying into the curve of her neck and holding her so tightly it hurt to breathe, and her comforting him. She kept an eye on the road and surroundings, as he was in no shape to do it. When it started to rain, he let her go and returned to the driver’s side, getting in and waiting for her to close her door before pulling back onto the road.

He didn’t speak, nor did she expect him to.

As she sat there beside him, her face flushed, the heat of that flush traveling down her neck and chest, tears coming to her eyes. She let them fall unchecked, not wiping them away. She’d made her choice and she’d stand by her promise to him.

The rain on the windshield and the motion of the truck on the road lulled her back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Castiel drove to Bobby Singer’s house. It was the only plan he could come up with right now. These past years, Dean had been the one planning, doing the leading, while Cas fell in behind him to follow. He’d gladly followed Dean’s direction, especially once the human condition had kicked in and he’d had more emotion and pain to deal with than he’d known how to deal with. Dean had told him what to do for the most part, and he’d done it.

Not to say he hadn’t gone his own way, because he had. While Dean hadn’t minded the drugs and alcohol at first, or the pretty women, he’d become increasingly bitter on Castiel’s use of them as the months had passed. He’d wanted Castiel to stay with him on the front lines, the sort of partnership Dean had had with Sam before Sam’s fall. Castiel couldn’t do that. He wasn’t Sam, could never be Sam, and wouldn’t try to take that place in Dean’s life even if Dean desired it.

They’d been friends, but their friendship had odd boundaries Cas didn’t think anyone could really understand. Even he hadn’t fully understood them. He’d pulled Dean from hell, sacrificed everything for him, and held on to life for him. Some would call that love. Perhaps it was. Dean had been everything to him. Had Dean loved him back in such a complete way? No. He didn’t want to acknowledge that, but it was the truth. Dean hadn’t loved him back like that, not in the end anyway. Perhaps in the beginning, there’d been that love there. Somewhere along the way, a rift had formed between them, a rift not caused by one thing, but rather many that built up over months.

Maybe it was the continued drug and alcohol use. Maybe it was the orgies that didn’t always include just women with him. Maybe it had been Dean’s realization one evening that Cas would have taken him into his bed like he had others if Dean had even hinted he was interested.

That had freaked Dean out pretty well for awhile. He’d said that Cas’s moral compass was so far skewed it couldn’t work right anymore, that he didn’t know right behavior from wrong behavior, and what the hell was wrong with him that any of what he was doing was remotely acceptable?

Cas had called him a prude and insisted pleasure was pleasure no matter where it came from before telling him to try it before he condemned it, because the end of everything was the perfect time to lose his inhibitions.

Dean had refused the offer and said nothing more about it directly. They hadn’t spoken for three weeks after that, but when they had spoken, it was as though Dean’s revelation about Castiel’s feelings hadn’t happened. Their friendship became a weird mix of camaraderie, a shared past that came with it’s own issues, and a mutual unspoken agreement to avoid all things that made them uncomfortable with each other. They were both good at either ignoring things they didn’t like about each other, or glossing over them like they weren’t even there. He ignored Dean’s muttered comments, Dean ignored his sarcasm and so on.

He yawned and turned the heater down, returning his thoughts to Bobby’s house. If nothing else, they could hole up in the panic room for awhile and sleep in peace. They both needed restful sleep. Speaking of sleep…. Castiel glanced at Risa. She was asleep in the passenger seat, having finally caved in to a deep exhausted slumber.

He thought he should feel guilty for wanting to pull over to the side of the road and wake her for another quickie, but there was no guilt in him for desiring that action. He’d lost the guilt over wanting sex a long time ago, learning to use those pleasurable moments to lighten his moods and temporarily push away emotional pains.

Rather than wake her, he imagined he did, like he had once before. He’d pull over on the side of the road, very close to the ditch and get out, leaving the truck running and the door open. She’d open her own door and slide out to stand….

Maybe the next time she wouldn’t cry after.

Maybe next time he wouldn’t.

Castiel didn’t pull over.

Risa was going to hate herself soon. Tomorrow maybe, or the next day. She was going to look back at what she’d done to stay alive and hate herself. Perhaps she’d even hate him. Within days, he thought she was going to become like those people in the camp who’d only slunk to him in darkness and never looked him in the eyes during the daylight hours. Given time, he thought she might even progress to the level of those who’d come to him in the day as well.

He was surprised that she’d bargained her body to him. She really did know what he’d want. The fact that she’d done that spoke for how desperate she’d felt at that moment. Did she realize he’d given something to her as well? Did she realize he’d given her…himself?

For a very long time, Castiel had wanted to die. He’d held on for Dean, knowing that Dean needed him to live, a visual link Dean both loved and hated to the turning point of his existence. Dean’s death had released him from the need to hold on, yet in typical human fashion, he’d immediately transferred himself to Risa. A part of him needed to live because she so obviously needed him to. She hadn’t admitted she was terrified of being alone, but he knew that was her reason. He’d observed her enough over the months to glean that. She didn’t mind being alone in a crowd, so to speak, but actually being the last person standing frightened her deeply. Did she know he understood that?

He gave her himself, all of him, just like he had to Dean. He did it despite the crippling fears and the knowledge that they’d probably never find real safety anywhere. She became Dean for him -- a new Dean, and one he could screw seven ways to Sunday.

Castiel was okay with that. He could live with it. It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but then he’d ceased to function healthy emotionally years ago and didn’t let it bother him anymore. Nothing in the world was healthy. Did it matter if he was?

He woke Risa and pulled on to Bobby’s property slowly. There’d been no sign of people or Croats for over an hour. Hopefully that was a blessing.

Bobby’s house was a mess. Castiel had already known it would be. It had been that way the last time he was there, when he and Dean had gone to bury the bodies from Bobby’s stubborn attempt to go home. The attempt had ended in Bobby’s death.

They cleared the house room by room in the manner Dean had trained them, finding no one inside. It appeared no one had been there either, at least not to stay. The piece of trim that covered the hiding place on the mantel was gone. Past Dean had said that’s where he’d found the picture that had brought him to Camp Chitaqua. Castiel swallowed hard. “That’s where the picture was,” he said, touching the open spot.

“What picture,” Risa asked, her voice still hushed.

He turned, recalling that she hadn’t been in the room when past Dean had mentioned it. “The picture the other Dean used to find us.”

She stared at him, then the hole. “We should bring in supplies before someone or something comes along and hears us.”

They brought in items from the truck and took them down to the panic room. It was hard work that they hurried through, one taking a load down, while the other watched for an attack, then reversing back and forth until they were done. When that was completed, they worked at finishing boarding up the lower windows. The team that had taken Bobby home hadn’t gotten very far before disaster had struck.

Cas barricaded the doors and went downstairs to the panic room. Risa was laying the sleeping bag and blanket on the bed chained to the wall. It still had a mattress, though he suspected it probably had a few vermin in it by now.

She stood and shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Mattress doesn’t look infested, but I guess we’ll find out. I’ve covered it as best I can. Maybe we can take it outside and beat it with a stick or something tomorrow.”

The room was littered with what Bobby had had in there and what they’d brought down. He went to a box and opened it, sorting through the food. “There’s some canned chicken in here.”

“Why not,” she asked and sat on the edge of the bed. “Any bread? We could really live it up.”

He chuckled. “Um…no. There are, however, a bunch of apple and cherry snack pies in one of these boxes.”

“Apple snack pies.”

“Dean always said they were a suitable substitute for real pie. I saw them this morning when I dug out the granola bars.” The bars had been homemade, not commercially packaged. One of the women in the camp had made huge batches when they’d had the ingredients for them.

“Okay. Canned chicken and snack pies for dinner it is.”

They ate directly from the cans, a can of chicken each, then searched together for the snack pies. Risa took an apple one and Cas chose cherry.

Risa looked around the room with a long sigh. There were shadows under her eyes. Cas thought he probably had matching shadows under his own eyes. “I can’t work on this tonight. I can barely think straight.”

He curled up with her beneath a blanket not long after their cold, quick meal, sleeping for fourteen hours straight and waking in the same position he’d fallen asleep in. Raising up on an elbow, he looked down at her. He knew why Dean had been attracted to her. Not only was she beautiful, she hadn’t been in awe of him like many of the other women in the camp had been. She’d question an order and she’d give attitude. In another time, Dean would have called her ‘fun handful’. In this time, he’d called her a ‘pain in the ass, but a damn good lay’. He was right on one count, but Cas had yet to find her a pain in the ass.

She stirred and he touched her cheek, fingertips barely brushing her skin. “Risa?”

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes. “Still tired,” she mumbled.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Risa groaned. “No.”

“Yes.” Working at something would keep them from dwelling on what had happened. Castiel thought it was better if they didn’t stop to think about their circumstances yet. They needed the house secure and stocked before they both broke down completely.

“What time is it?”

“Does it matter?”

She stretched. “I guess not.”

“I’ll get something opened up to eat while you get dressed.” He left the bed and dragged on yesterday’s clothes. By the time he was done, she still hadn’t moved. “The faster we finish preparations, the sooner we can relax.”

“I know.”

The second day found an end to the windows and the start of trying to get the water on and the generator working. Castiel had learned how to work and fix both in the camp. Dean had insisted he know both skills. It came in handy now. He thought water was the main thing. They needed it to drink, to cook with, and to bathe. Electricity could wait.

It was fairly easy to fix the water issue. By the end of the day, he had it working. Cas wiped his hands on a cloth and looked up at Risa. “Without electricity, it’ll be cold water, but it’s still water. We’ll wash just the same.” He shrugged.

Risa whistled in appreciation. “You’re good.”

“That I am.” He got to his feet and went into the panic room. Earlier he’d found something he thought she’d appreciate: a Ziploc baggie with a sliver of soap in it. Castiel held it up with the quirk of a brow. “Ladies first.”

“Where did you get this?” She snatched it from him, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

“Found it in with some of the trash. It was probably part of what Bobby brought that we missed gathering up to take back.” He was glad he’d found it, glad to see the delight in her eyes.

It was a sad world when soap made a person ecstatic.

While she showered, he double checked the doors and barricades and searched for something to dry off with. He ended up pulling down curtains and shaking them out to get most of the dust out. Who knew where the towels were? They’d have to look for them, too. He took one in to Risa and kept the other for himself, then settled down to wait for his turn.

~~~~~~~~~~

Soap was a welcome thing. It had become scarce in recent days, as had things like deodorant and toothpaste. Risa hurried to shower, stripping off her clothes and stepping beneath a spray that was icy, yet still wonderful. She enjoyed the shower despite the fact that the bath stall area was minus a shower curtain and the bathroom door hung open drunkenly on it’s hinges.

Castiel knocked as she was washing her hair and came in, a mass of cloth in his hands. “Here. Thought you’d like something to dry off with. It’s all I could find right now.”

She half expected him to want to join her, but while his appreciative gaze slipped over her, he turned after a moment and left the room. Risa hurried to finish and dried off, slightly amused that he’d apparently ripped down curtains. She wrapped it around her toga style, rinsed her underwear and shirt and wrung each out, then slipped her boots back on and went down to the panic room. “Any ideas what would be a good place to hang these up to dry?”

He shrugged. “Might be some place upstairs.”

There was a place upstairs, a line coiled inside a plastic case in one room that had a corresponding place to hook it on the opposite wall. It was an odd place for one of those, but who knew what Bobby Singer had really used it for. Risa hooked it, laid her clothes on the line and returned downstairs. The floor creaked above her and she started to cry.

She felt like a whore.

Risa curled up on the bunk and cried. If he heard her, Castiel probably assumed she was crying for the people they’d left, and for Dean -- like he did. She could hear him now, his sobs barely audible over the sound of the water.

He may like to drown himself in wine, women, and song, but he had learned how to make things work. The shower was a blessing, yet even scrubbed clean of a couple days dirt and of Castiel’s sweat and semen, Risa felt dirty, like she’d been tarnished somehow.

She’d exchanged her body for company, so she wouldn’t be lonely as she fled the camp. She’d saved her own ass only to give it away to Castiel.

What kind of woman does that?

A desperate one, her mind replied and she sat up. Above, the water stopped. Risa wiped her eyes. She’d sold herself to him and would continue to do so just so he’d stay. She faced that truth with a shudder of shame. She was going to do whatever sex act he wanted to keep him happy. A happy Castiel wouldn’t leave her alone in this world to fend for herself. He’d stay because he was getting what he wanted from her.

Risa almost laughed. It was funny really. She’d never been the sort of woman to need a man before. She’d even turned her nose up at the people who flocked to Cas’s cabin, dismissing them as pathetic and likening them to junkies in need of a fix of him. Sure, she’d let herself be sucked in to Dean’s charm. What woman didn’t?

All in all, Risa had thought of herself as independent, stronger than all of the rest of the women in the camp who’d traded sex for security and other things.

It turned out she simply hadn’t been desperate enough yet. Under the right circumstances, she’d prostitute herself as fast as she could.

The truth of that jabbed into her like a knife.