To say it was any different would be a lie - not even a disguised one, but a flat out lie that contained no trace of shame. My days seemed no different than any others, but I was only five when it first started, so to say that I was aware is a longshot.
My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my story.
I was born to a theoretically flawless family. My mother was kind and gentle, but she could be stern when she wanted to be. She made the best apple pies, and whenever I got scared at night, she would sign me "Hey Jude" until I fell asleep.
My father was comparatively colder, but he smiled for me often. He would always tell me that everything was fine. Sometimes, he'd take me out to the arcade on a Saturday that he had off. He'd ruffle my hair and call me "his boy," and he would even tell me from time to time that he loved me.
Despite my seemingly plastic parents, I was actually closer to my brother, Dean. Honestly, I looked up to him. He took care of me, as you will see throughout my story. He was more of a parent to me than a brother, but his title has always been brother, and that has not changed to this day.
Introductions aside, I would love to start at a happy place, but that's not exactly the right vibe that you should begin with if you are to understand where I'm coming from. I'd like to start with this:
Dean was my best friend. There was no doubt about that. I was not popular at school, and I was often bullied. Dean would make it his business to find out and serve justice, but little did I know what he was getting dished out in return.
Anyway, my traumatic experiences at school are not the focus of what I'm getting at, so I'll push those aside for now. Right now, I would like to tell you about a moment that started out as a nervous flutter and then became one of the most scarring incidents of my childhood.
Actually, a bit of background is required before I do that. Let me explain. I never noticed what went on. I never knew what went down behind closed doors. I never saw it. I did not know. There were signs, but I did not know.
I did know, however, that my brother had a very good friend named Castiel, and they had been friends for a long time. I did not know, however, that the things I saw between them were taboo to speak about. I saw the way Castiel looked at Dean.
They had been friends since before I was born, and yet I only began to piece together at age ten what the looks that Cas shot to my brother meant. He was in love with him, and I knew it. I had seen it in the movies, and seen a hint of it in my own eyes whenever I watched the really pretty girl from a few blocks away walk home, but that came later, and I did not actually have that personal experience then.
I did, however, ask Castiel, who had become like a brother to me over the years, about his relationship.
He looked down at me with wide, frantic eyes. "You're wrong." He immediately insisted. "I… it's not like that, Sam. Don't say things like that out loud."
I didn't know why he told me that at that point, but I found out soon enough.
"Why? Don't you love him?" I asked in confusion.
"Dean is my friend." Castiel forced out, but even as a child I could hear some kind of fear in his voice.
"So… you don't love Dean?" I blinked a few times, trying to figure out how my prediction could be wrong.
"As a friend." Castiel bit out, and I could just hear the pain in his voice, but I could not make any sense out of it.
"But friends don't usually get jealous when they see their friend with a girl." I pointed out simply as an observation, but it made Castiel become stiff as a board, his jaw clenching and his fist curling tightly.
"I do no such thing." He objected, his voice dropping down a notch.
"Yeah. You do. It's the same look Dean gives me if Mom gives me an extra slice of pie." I childishly spoke the truth.
Castiel's gaze shot frantically about as if he had been caught doing something wrong. Little did I know, he thought that was exactly what had just happened. "Okay. I'm jealous, okay? But please, do not breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean no one, Sam. Promise me you will not tell anyone."
"But… doesn't Dean deserve to know? Won't he want to know so you can get married?" I blinked up at him in confusion.
"No. He doesn't." Castiel seemed increasingly nervous, his eyes wide and darting about in search of an invisible enemy. "Just…" He sighed, closing his eyes as if he hoped he could wish it all away. "Let's leave it as our secret, okay? I'll tell him when it's time."
It was a lie. I didn't know it then, but I felt important for keeping a secret with the boy that I looked up to as another brother. I wanted his approval, and little did I know I already had it. I had just scared the living daylights out of him.
"Okay." I agreed with a grin. "I can't wait until you're my brother."
"Me too." Castiel lied so convincingly at the time, but I see now that he knew it would never happen. "Now how about you show me that sword you said you made today." He changed the subject with a grin, and I was more than happy to fall right into it and show him the aluminum foil sword made.
Unfortunately for Cas, I was terrible at keeping secrets. I knew that Cas told me not to tell Dean, so I didn't, but I had to tell someone about my excitement at the idea of having Cas as a part of my seemingly perfect family. My mother worked nights often, so that left me with my father.
He was shining the hood of his car, a jet black '67 Chevy Impala, when I went to tell him the news.
"Hey, dad." I began with a small and excited voice.
"Yeah, Sam?" He didn't bother to turn his attention away from the car as he spoke to me. His tone was completely hollow and noncommittal, showing just how much he truly cared for me.
"When do you think Dean and Cas are going to get married?" I asked with an innocent curiosity.
My dad froze, and he slowly inched away from the car. "What did you say?" He breathed out very slowly, his voice dangerously low.
"Well, I just mean that they're in love and all, and so they've got to get married." I explained, my voice trembling because of the sudden change in my father.
"Not under my roof." John growled. "Don't you dare talk like that."
"But… why not?" I croaked out, too afraid to even move anymore.
"Because." John spat out, his heel already turning towards the door to the house. "I will not have any son of mine behave that way. I knew that Novak boy was trouble."
"What way?" I asked out of pure confusion.
"Go to bed, Sam." He darkly ordered me.
"But-" I began only to be cut of by his bark.
"I said go to bed!" He yelled at me, and I knew that if I stayed any longer, I would be in danger, so I ran to my room in fear.
I regretted doing that for a long time. I went there, but I could hear from Dean's room that was next to mine. I could hear John cursing loudly at him, and I could hear Dean begging him to stop and give him another chance. I heard it all. I heard Dean's moans and screams as my dad beat him in the room next to mine, my own body frozen with fear. I couldn't believe what was going on. My perfect family was crumbling around me.
Little did I know, Dean had been receiving beatings since he was nine years old. Mine didn't start until I was fifteen and got into my first fight at school, or rather, the first time I fought back.
John was convinced it was my fault, and I couldn't seem to convince him otherwise. Dean came in at my defense, but that only got him a snapped jaw and two broken ribs.
My mother was beyond concerned when she saw my bruises and Dean's more serious injuries. I told her about my fight at school, and the bruises could be attributed to that, but Dean, on the other hand, always came up with excuses about falling from trees or sports injuries. She was skeptical of all things, but John was a different person around her. They would fight sometimes, but he was never as vicious to her as he was to either Dean or me. Manipulation was the proper word for it.
I began to fear for my own life and Dean's. John had forbidden Castiel from seeing Dean after I told him that one night, but they still snuck out, Dean insisting that they were just friends and that I could not tell Dad. I knew better that time. I had already learned the hard way - or rather, Dean had for me.
However, everything changed when a girl moved in a few blocks away. I had gone over with my family to welcome her, but she barely acknowledged me.
I, on the other hand, was captivated by her. I developed a crippling crush. I would stare at her at school. I would always pick out the color of her forget-me-not blue eyes out as my favorite. I would wait for her to walk home everyday so that I could watch her.
I even stood up for her at school one time. I honestly think that I scared her. I didn't really know what to do with my feelings. I had only ever seen Dean and Cas deal with such things before, and Cas buried them out of fear for Dean and his relationship with him, and Dean buried it because he knew it could not be.
So, needless to say, I was definitely not adequately equipped, but she did give me hope that there was something good out there.
There was one day that I shall never forget, a day etched in my memory for all of time. I saw her walk by and I counted down the usual amount of time it would take her to get home. I then rummaged through the garden and hesitated before I would pick the flowers.
I had seen Cas give them to Dean one time on Dean's birthday when they were hiding on Castiel's roof, Gabriel - Castiel's sugar loving brother - keeping me company downstairs. I had heard Dean get angry, and then Cas had come down the stairs, flowers still in hand and tears forming in his eyes. He took one look at both me and Gabe who had lifted our concerned gazes to him. He shook his head, dropped the flowers and went into his room.
Gabriel shifted in his seat next to me, and when Dean finally came down, he gave him one of the coldest glares I had ever seen. "Either you fix what you just did, or you get out of my house before I kick you all the way to Timbuktu."
"I'm leaving. Sam, come on." Dean growled out as he made his way to the door.
I got up to follow him, feeling Gabriel ruffle my hair quickly.
"Don't worry about it. Just… tell you brother to come back when he's not such an inconsiderate jerk." Gabriel handed me a lollipop before turning his attention back towards Castiel's room.
So now I had a reluctance to bring my neighbor flowers, seeing as I feared she would react as Dean did. I had never heard that conversation on the roof, but I knew that Dean and my crush seemed to share quite a few characteristics, and that was what made me skeptical of my choice. I decided it best to ask Dean, so I made my way into the house, and what I saw made me an entirely different person. What I saw could never be erased. What I saw… no person should ever have to see.
They call me Dean. Most of them do anyway, or I guess they did.
What I have to say is not exactly pretty, and yeah, I'm sorry that you have to hear it, but it's kind of necessary sometimes.
I had a friend. His name was Cas. He was a good friend. I mean that. He was always there for me.
My dad abused me as a kid. At first it was because I just was not smart enough for him, but it became more than that when he saw my friendship with Cas. It became so much more.
In his eyes, I became useless. He'd make sure to remind me that everyday. He'd tell me I was worthless and that I shouldn't have even existed, like I was an abomination.
It all started one day when I was nine and came home with a failing grade on a science test. John had always scoffed at my grades, so I worked endlessly to try and get grades that would please him. It didn't work. As soon as my mom left for her night shift at the hospital, he confronted me in an angry, half drunken rage. He only hit me twice that night, but it got worse as time went on.
I blamed Cas for a while. It was illogical of me, but after a while of watching the way he looked at me when I kissed girls, I knew.
Cas was gay, but we didn't really establish that until our Sophomore year. His brother knew all along, but he was also the only family that Cas had.
I, on the other hand, was forced to be something I was not. Well, not entirely. It's complicated. My dad thought I was gay, and that was a taboo in his mind. He hated Cas. He really did, but I could not let him take away my best friend.
My dad's hatred for Cas took on a violent form one day out of the blue. He had always glared at Cas and muttered disapproving comments at how close Cas and I were for two fourteen year old boys, but it got worse one night.
I was hunched over my desk, books scattered about, my head pounding as I tried to cram information into my mind with some study notes Cas had helpfully given me. Without a single warning, John burst through my door, and I could feel the anger coming off of him in these waves that could only mean one thing.
I looked up from the desk, trying to force myself to remain calm. If I showed any sign of weakness, he would beat me harder, so I swallowed hard and tried to force a steady voice. "Dad?" I asked, trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"What do you think you're doing?" He snarled, his voice vicious and full of the anger I had become accustomed to.
"Studying." I answered, leaving it simple. It was better that way.
"It won't help you. It can't make you smart." He sneered.
"Cas made me some studying notes. I think they're really helping-" I began, hoping to impress out of my pathetic desperation.
"Shut up!" John snapped, stalking into the room and slamming the door behind him. "So you're taking help from that pathetic little queer?"
My eyes widened in shock. Cas and I were only fourteen. We were both too young to know our sexuality at that age. I had no words. I was baffled. Anything I said could be thrown back at me in seconds, but words would not be the only things thrown at me.
"What else is the little faggot giving you, huh?" John picked me up by the collar to spit in my face. "Sam says he loves you. So you're one too, huh? What makes you think that's okay? Why, I ought to get rid of you! What is wrong with you?!" He rammed me up against the wall, and I could feel his breath on my face as he wanted, the taste of alcohol making me cringe. "Look at me!" He shouted, his eyes bulging as he punched my face.
I obediently lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, not daring to disobey. I had it coming anyway.
"I will not have this under my roof! To think I've had to put up with you humiliating this family with your stupidity, and now you're making it look like I raise a bunch of queers!" He punched me in the gut before letting it all out, blow after blow that I took like a punching bag, completely silent. "You useless waste of space. I should just throw you out. All you do is waste good food and money that could be spent on Sam. You disgust me. You're lucky I don't…" He hit me again before smashing my head into the wall. It was okay though because I was used to it. I didn't even notice the blood that pooled on my head and poured from my nose and mouth. "You owe me. You owe me everything, but you'll never repay it because you can't. You can't do anything right."
He turned and left without another word, and I remained silent and unresponsive as I went into the bathroom to clean up before my mom got home.
I kept seeing Cas, even when Cas told me he was gay. I didn't care. He was still my friend, and John still was not going to change that. I'd go to him when it got really bad too. Whenever John hit me too badly, I would go over to Cas's house, and he would take care of me. Gabriel had made a point of leaving a blanket and a pillow on the couch every night in case I showed up.
They helped me, and I shouldn't have blamed Cas, but I did. I didn't want to fall in love with him either. I didn't want to be bi. I didn't want to be something that my father clearly despised, but I guess I was just a disappointment all around, so I pretended I wasn't. I boxed up my feelings for Cas and instead I pretended that every girl I kissed was him. It didn't work, not well at least.
He reminded me of my lack of worth so often that it soon became solid fact in my mind.
It led to some pretty dark times in my life, and I regret the day that Sam found out.
I still find it hard to fathom how Dean and I went from joyous infants to troubled teens screaming at each other on a roof, but it did happen.
He was my first, and basically my only friend other than Meg, who had been my friend for a short period of time in middle school. It was Dean who first started calling me Cas. Nobody else cared enough to give me a nickname before, other than Gabriel of course, who called me Cassie.
Dean and I had a strangled relationship. His father hated me. He would send me death glares whenever he saw me, and it may have taken me awhile to piece together, but I was not an imbecile. I caught on, and it only became more and more frightening as I fell deeper and deeper in love with Dean.
I watched as Dean surrounded himself with women to prove something, and while I was perfectly jealous, I also felt an undeniable sense of pity.
I came to have a growing resentment towards John Winchester, and that was before I knew about the way he beat Dean. After I figured it out, I had frantically told him to tell the police, but Dean had insisted that it would only make it worse for the rest of the family and that he deserved it.
I believe that was what I most despised about John Winchester. He made a boy as beautiful, brave, and perfect as could be in my eyes see himself as a worthless object that did not deserve life.
I took it as my job to make him feel loved, so I tried my hardest. I did love him, but showing said love in a way that would appear perfectly platonic was not the easiest task that I could have been dished.
Regardless, I found out that bringing him flowers was a mistake. I should not have done such a thing. What a fool I was to think that maybe, just maybe it might mean something to him.
"Happy Birthday." I had said with a smile on my face as I held out the flowers I had picked earlier that day just for him.
His eyes went wide as he took them in. "No way, Cas. You've got to be kidding me." Dean laughed ever so briefly as if to dismiss my offer, and, if I am honest, I must say that it made my heart twist in my chest.
"I just thought… that maybe you'd want a birthday present." I held the flowers out to him still, hoping that he would just accept the gift.
"I don't want that, Cas." Dean shook his head, some kind of fear soaking into his eyes, but I see now that there was also his telling glint - he was lying. "Are you insane?!" His voice raised.
"What's so insane about it?" I challenged, standing my ground against Dean, glaring at him in the eyes now.
"You are. There is no way that is ever going to happen!" Dean turned away from me, so that I could not read his face.
"Perhaps not." I agreed, knowing all too well that it was true. "But I can't live in a lie forever, Dean. How long do you expect me to ignore how I feel?"
"Don't say it." Dean hissed out, his voice a strange mixture of force and pleading.
"I can't do it anymore, Dean. We're eighteen, and soon enough we won't even see each other again. I need to tell you this. I've kept it in long enough." I firmly resolved, refusing to back down.
"No. You don't. You don't have anything to say." Dean warned me.
"I do, Dean. I cannot just pretend that I'm not in lov-" I began but I was cut off by Dean's fierce yell.
"I said enough, Cas! Stop it! Just shut up and go back to being my friend!"
It hurt beyond belief, but I stormed out. I knew Gabriel was concerned. He did try to talk to me, but I insisted that I had brought on myself and that he owed Dean no slap across the face.
I did mend things with Dean at a later date. We came to the silent decision that Dean and I would both just forget about the night on the roof. We agreed to ignore my feelings, but little did I know it was only because Dean wanted to ignore his.
I was fifteen when I saw it. I was only fifteen when everything finally clicked. I had only gone into Dean's room for advice. I was excited about the idea of actually talking to my neighbor, but it soon faded as I entered Dean's room.
Dean was curled up on his bed, razor blades in hand and my mother's sleeping pills on his nightstand. His wrists were slashed and he seemed in the process to slash another mark when I froze in the doorway.
"Dean…" I breathed out, utterly unsure what to do at that point. "What… why?" I felt my eyes spill a few shameless tears.
"Sammy…" He rasped out upon seeing me. He dropped the blade and offered me one of his best fake smiles. "I… just had a little bit of an accident. It's nothing to worry about."
"That's not an accident, Dean." My eyes were wide and wet as I took in the deliberate slash marks. "Dean, why would you…?" I could not find the words to complete that sentence. It seemed so impossible. It all did. Dean always had such a strong face. He'd always smile and joke no matter what. It was only then that I realized it was all a mask.
Dean said nothing, his eyes just watching the blood ooze from his cuts. "It doesn't matter, Sam. It really doesn't." He absently spoke. His voice sounded so empty and hopeless, and I could not have hated my father at that moment more if I had tried. I had hated him before for hitting both me and my brother, but this was all his fault. He caused those events, and I had to wonder how many times Dean had actually attempted suicide, but it hurt too much to think about. My mind was already swirling.
"Of course it does, Dean. You can't just say that. I need you here, Dean. Please…" I begged, my round eyes scanning from Dean's wrists to the bottle of pills by his bed.
Dean tracked his gaze and closed his eyes. "You weren't supposed to see this." He breathed out.
"Did you take those?" I asked thickly, my mind paralyzed with fear at the thought of Dean's death already being assured.
"No. I didn't take them yet." Dean muttered. "Sam, you should just go. I… want you to go."
"No. Absolutely not." I gathered the courage to finally walk into the room and pick up one of his flannel shirts off the ground to wrap around one wrist, taking my own flannel off for the other wrist. "I'm not leaving you. You never left me."
"Sam… I'm not worth it. I'm not. Don't waste your time. You can go off, Sam. You're smart. You can still have a future. You've got a lot that I don't. You can go places, Sam. Me," Dean laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and heartbreaking. "I'm not going anywhere. I can't pass highschool. I can't please my own father. All I do is drive everyone away. I'm worth nothing, not in dad's eyes, not in anyone's. I'm just a failure, but you don't have to be."
"No! Stop talking like that! Dean, you can't say those things. Dad is wrong. I know he is. There's so much about you that I look up to. You're my hero! Cas loves you too, and I know he sees you as the world. Mom loves you. You're an angel in her eyes. You can't just do that to us. You can't just check out. You've always been so strong and fearless. Please, Dean, fight for us."
"It's all a lie, Sam." He shook his head, the blood loss beginning to make him faint. "You needed somebody to be strong for you, so I pretended that I was. I'm not what you think I am."
"No. You are. You're my brother, and I will not give up on you." I firmly resolved.
Dean's eyes began to shine with tears as he pulled me into him. We sat there for quite some time, but we never spoke of it again.
History did have a funny way of repeating itself later on, which made my second experience all the more painful.
When I first learned that Sam had fallen in love with the girl from down the street, he was already in college, but I guess fate had some tricks in mind as it switched things up. They met again, and I'm pretty sure that Sam creeped her out again.
Her name was Cameron, and he talked about her. A lot. Everytime he called me from Stanford, he would always have something new to say about her, even if it sounded very similar to what he said the previous day.
He would make a point of going to the library at the same time as her everyday, and he would always insist that it was just because she was lonely or mysterious. He would always tell me that he loved his girlfriend, Jess, and that romance was not what drew him to Cameron in the first place. Yeah, because I totally believed that.
I would listen to him every time he talked about her though. There was just a look in his eye every time he talked about her that made me feel good inside. It's hard to explain, but I guess you could say I was happy for him. I was proud too. I mean, I knew his excuses about his interest being platonic were just cover ups, but it was because of that glint in his eyes and the excited tinge to his voice that always made me listen.
I knew it wouldn't end well. I did not know much about her, but I knew that she was alone for a reason. She had no friends for a reason. I had learned that much personally. Isolation is kind of a coping mechanism, a bad one, but that's what it is, and I recognized it immediately. It was trouble, and I didn't want Sam falling into that. I didn't want to see him get hurt again. I had already done enough of that.
There was also the obstacle of his girlfriend, whom I already knew and genuinely liked. She was sweet, kind, and patient. She was good for Sam, and Cameron seemed to be potentially harmful.
She later proved me very wrong, but I'll get to that later. Right now, I'd like to make it clear that Cas and I were never together. After that night on the roof, there was just this silent agreement between the two of us never to speak of the event or the feelings involved in it again. The only exception was when Cas told me he was not going to college.
That was one of the biggest shocks I've ever received. Cas was smart, and I mean he was Ivy League school smart. That kid was in all AP and honors his entire high school career, and he still retained well over a 4.0. Don't ask me how he did it. I honestly don't want to talk about some of the things I saw him go through to get to that point, but it wasn't pretty. Let's leave it at that.
Anyway, my point is, I could not believe that Cas was trying to tell me he was not going to college. I was not, but that much could be predicted anyway, and yeah, my dad was not happy about that either. Unless you count the two ribs that I have that never quite settled right again and now jut out of my chest in a slight angle as a reward, then no, my dad was not happy.
Regardless, I still blinked at Cas a few times in wonder as he told me he was not going to college. "What?" I asked, a half smile pulling at my mouth as my go to method of false assurance. "I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you."
Castiel sighed and shook his head disdainfully at me. "You know what I said, Dean. I'm not going to school. Gabriel needs me here, and after all he's done for me, I owe him as much. Besides, leaving would cost far too much."
That much was true. Gabriel was Castiel's sole guardian, and he only owned a small bakery in town, so I always knew that Cas didn't have the most money of all the kids at our highschool, but the thought had never really occurred to me before. The thought that struck me next is what mattered most though. "You're staying because you want to keep an eye on me." I voiced the incredulous thought out loud.
"I didn't say that." Castiel folded his arms defensively.
"I know you didn't, but I know what you're trying to do, Cas. Why can't you just forget about me?" It was not a real question because I already knew the answer. I just wanted him to drop me and move on to someone who could treat him better.
"You already know the answer to that, as much as you may want to avoid it." Castiel's voice was low and serious as he spoke, sending a chill down my spine as I recalled the night on the roof.
"Cas…" I tried to find the words to apologize or to explain myself. I never wanted to hurt him. That was the last thing I wanted. I didn't want to hurt Sam either, but I did that too. John was right about one thing: I really did break everything I touched, and no matter how much I tried to change that, it only seemed to make things worse. "I
…" I couldn't find any other words. Luckily enough for me, Cas knew me too well, and he didn't need any words to know what I was saying.
"You don't have to explain, Dean. I already know." Cas whispered in a soft and sympathetic tone. "It doesn't matter. I can't leave, and while you are a part of that equation - the value of which I'll refrain from telling you, you are not the entire basis for my decision."
I said nothing for a while, not really sure what to say. I really did not deserve Cas. He was like an angel sent to look after me, and frankly, I feel like I broke the angel. I was awful to him. I ignored his feelings towards me because I wanted to bury mine, and I even ended up blaming him for what was really my fault. I brought those beatings on myself. John was not a villain. He was not anything treacherous until he laid a hand on Sam. Before then, he was really just serving justice and hitting me with truth. Sam did not deserve it. He did nothing to deserve it. Cas was always there for me, no matter how terrible of a person I was. He loved me when I hated myself. He saw a spark in my eyes and beauty in my soul when all I saw was a worthless waste of space. I could never express my gratitude, but my isolated tendencies that I had built up over the years to conceal truth kicked in, and I didn't even try. "Whatever you say, but it's a shame. You could have gone pretty far. I know it."
"I'd rather be here." Castiel resolved without missing a beat, that strange glimmer that I always did my best to ignore returning to his eyes - it was that look of affection and dedication that very distinctly belonged to a loving gaze, so I looked away.
"Glad to hear it. I guess you'll be around after all then." I shrugged, deciding immediately that I had to get out of there before I gave into that gaze.
"I'll always be here for you, Dean." Castiel assured me as if it were a solid fact that I should have known at that point, and I guess I kind of did.
"Yeah, well…" I tried to thank him again or say something at least. I never really let him know how much I appreciated him, but for some reason I found it difficult. "That's good I guess. I mean, I'm glad you're here and all, Cas, but maybe you should think about yourself for once."
Castiel blinked a few times as if my suggestion was entirely new to him, and that was when I realized that I always came before him in his mind, and that stung me in a weird kind of way. "I can take online courses, Dean. This is what's best for everyone." He informed me like he was some kind of receptionist, but I saw what was hidden behind those big blue eyes - he was thinking of me, and I can't really tell you how guilty that made me feel.
"If you say so." I gave in without much more of an argument. I didn't want to think about it anymore. Cas was loyal to me, and he cared far too much, even when I could not care less about myself.
"I'll be fine, Dean. I…" Castiel seemed hesitant to finish that thought. "This is what I want." He seemed to change his words at the last minute. I don't know what he was going to say, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't it.
My mind threw a few ideas at me, and they honestly scared me. I didn't want to think of them, but part of me wanted to just acknowledge Cas's feelings and my own and just let it happen, but that could not happen, so I turned away and began to leave. "Thanks, Cas."
It was the only time I really thanked him. He deserved it, but he deserved a lot more. I regret not thanking him earlier, but even what I did say sounded forced because of my suppressed emotions. I was a mess at the time. I was severely depressed. I had extreme self loathing problems, and I also had no idea what to do with anything I ever felt because I had always kept things in. I know it's not an excuse for being a bad friend, but it's just a fact. I couldn't let Cas go at that point in my life, and that was how I expressed that.
"Anytime, Dean." Cas called after me, some kind of memory hidden in his tone. It was weird. It was like he was nostalgic as he spoke, remembering something like from when we were kids.
Anyway, that was the only time we ever talked of the night on the roof, and it was not even directly addressed. We avoided it, but I guess Cas only did because I did. Maybe we both just knew better.
He did, however, piece together my self harm habits, which had stopped since that day that Sam found me. After that, I stopped. I stopped and fought as hard as I could - for my mom, Cas, and especially Sam. It was not easy. I can tell you that much. I would still look at each truck go by and just picture myself getting hit by it. I would picture myself walking into the lake just to let the water wash over me and take me in. I would think about just dying in my sleep and never having to wake up again and face the person I hated so much in the mirror.
It was hard, and believe me, Cas found me pretty close to relapse at times, but between him and Sam, I fought through it.
My mom had suspicions, and she did look into getting me a therapist, but I could not risk a therapist finding out the truth, so I declined that as fiercely as I could.
My point is, I got better after time, and it leads me to honestly say that without Sam and Cas, I would not be alive today.
Staying and living with Gabriel was one of the best choices I had ever made throughout my life span. I hate to admit that Dean was the the utmost priority in my mind when I made my decision, but it does not make it any less final. I have no regrets. I do not regret being Dean's friend. I do not regret staying with him through everything. I do not even regret falling in love with him.
It's a peculiar thought if I've ever had one. I came to realize quite fast that love was not all that the film's and novels had so deceptively depicted it as. Love is not blissful and powerful. It is not something that makes you giddy and smile rays of sunshine. It is not watching the stars and feeling complete. It's not comforting arms that make troubles melt away. While it can be some of those things, the reality is vastly different.
Falling in love is much more like falling down an endless pit. It is infinite, and one is never aware what may be inside - theoretically, of course. It is cold at times and lonely. It jabs at your heart and paralyzes your entire body, leaving your limbs limp with a stinging numbness. It watches as you crumble and fall inwards, your mind giving out and snapping in two. It laughs when you scream and want to tear your own hair out. It grins at the shedding of each tear with some perverse sense of satisfaction.
That's not to say it is all suffering. It is just to say that it is the side that is more often showed and felt than the stereotypical theory.
Loving Dean did make me feel light inside at times. Talking to him did always seem to draw a smile to my face. His little victories were always great ones in my mind. Surely, those sound like positive things, and indeed they are, but they are not the complete picture.
I had such conflicted feelings over Dean that I was quite unsure what to do with them. Dean knew after the night on the roof, but we never even spoke of the ever again. Strange, isn't it? He was so worked up, and yet he could not seem to manage to even speak of it again. Never mind that. I did not need an apology of any sorts. I got what was coming to me regardless of what my smidge of optimism had convinced me. Dean was right to reject me. I would have too if I were him, but I simply cannot lie and say that the events did not hurt me.
That is beside the point at the moment. I would actually like to discuss my mental health - as selfish as that may sound. It is not something I can simply rid myself of, so I wish to relay it onto you.
I have anxiety in varying levels. It is partially social, but that is only a portion. I would have panic attacks every so often, and every time, Dean would hold me and tell me to take deep breaths in a calm and steady voice. We never discussed any of the times in which that occurred. We both had this forced silence settled upon us that seemed impossible to shake.
I was glad that he never did bring it up. My breathing would increase when I was in too large of a crowd, my grades were in danger, or even something as trivial as a class presentation. I was a nervous wreck, but Dean did not care.
One of the worst times was when the bakery that my brother owned was attacked and robbed while he was working there. It came on the news while I was sitting and studying with Dean. Although, if we are being honest, it was much more like I was studying and Dean was doing everything in his power to distract me. I dropped everything I was doing when I saw the report of the armed robbery. Everything around me seemed to blur away. Fear and anxiety overwhelmed me and swallowed me whole. My breath hitched before it increased to an unhealthy pace. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, seeming to twist and pound until it burst, sending vast amounts of blood boring through my veins. My eyes widened and watered as my mind left my body temporarily. It is a peculiar phenomenon that you would have to experience to fully understand, but it felt like I was hovering above my physical form, as if my body was no longer under my own control. My words stuck to the back of my throat, nearly choking me when I tried to communicate. I was detached from the world, meaning I had completely forgotten about Dean's presence.
He said nothing. Perhaps he may have said my name once, but I honestly do not recall whether or not he did. I do, however, know that he swept me into his arms and just held me, occasionally reminding me to breathe. He had done it before, and I have to say that he was quite skilled at it.
You may think that it would not be very effective a method, or perhaps you think Dean to be emotionally incapable of comfort, but I would desire to state otherwise. The assurance of having him there meant everything. Dean spoke thousands of words through silence that were far more comforting of any words that anyone could have voiced. Dean had been emotionally suppressed, which I viciously blamed John for, but that did not mean he was emotionless. I could feel it all in the way he held me - a sense of kindness, care, a hint of fear, comfort, and even though I dared not even think it then, love. I could see in his eyes every emotion Dean ever felt, no matter how miniscule. I became quite skilled at reading him. I knew when he lied or when he was scared. I could see all of the times he was in pain - mentally or physically. I even saw… regret and longing in his eyes, but we never spoke of it, and part of my mind even refused to admit it was there because of the way Dean acted around me, but I knew that no matter how cold Dean's words were, the glint in his eye told me his words pained them more than they did me, and that was always what broke my heart. If only we had been born under different circumstances.
"He's…" I felt my words sputter forth in an uncontrolled manner, clumsy words spilling from my growing fear. "My brother… I'm… going… to lose him… can't… all I… have."
"You won't, Cas. I promise." Dean's voice was low as he held me in his arms and rubbed the back of his head, his tone sounding as if he intended to say I'll always be here.
Gabriel did turn out to have been shot, but it was only in the shoulder. He had a sling for a while, which he never stopped complaining about, but he was fine and almost even grateful to Dean for taking care of me when I found out.
Despite my unstable mental state, Dean was still my friend, and he certainly did not deserve the way that I professed my feelings for him. He deserved far better than that. If I were a good friend, I would have kept them to myself, but I did not. I only made things more difficult for him, and I have regretted doing that to this day.
It took time, and a great deal of it at that, but Dean did get better. He never really smiled, not really. It was usually just a pose for me or my mother. He even got to the point where he would only stiffen the slightest bit when John was in the room. He hid things quite well, so it was hard for me to really say how he was doing, but I made it my business just as he had looked out for me.
I was always closer to Dean than either of my parents, so I was not prepared to lose him. However, I knew it would be impossible to get my brother back entirely as long as John was still around.
That much was answered almost as if it were a prayer. The woman I had fallen in love with - Cameron Blake - changed everything.
When I met her again in college, I knew that my life was going to change. At the time, I did not know how.
I fell hopelessly in love with her, which was not what I had intended to do, but unfortunately love does not seem to care for intentions. I ended up breaking up with my girlfriend, Jess, simply because our relationship was a lie as long as I was in love with Cameron.
Cameron and I did get together, and while it made me ecstatic - honestly, I was happier about that than my actual college graduation, which happened to be on the same day. My newfound joy was soon diminished as I saw John's glare from across the way.
Dean looked between us with that kind of forced assurance he had, but I saw the worry and the fear hidden behind the false confidence.
John's words to Cameron were cruel and uncalled for, and I felt myself bristle beside her. Cameron verbally fought back. She was defending me, which I greatly admired. I thought that was absolutely beautiful about her, but it was also because it reminded me of when Dean would step in and stand up to John at my defense. I loved her for that because it was always something I had admired in Dean. No matter how afraid the two of them were from their personal experiences, they did not back down, and I honestly could not have been more in love with her.
Dean did interject at some point, Cas standing defensively by him and glaring at John a silent threat. Dean's interjection only landed him a yell from John and then a blow straight to the jaw, sending Dean stumbling backwards and into Cas's arms, who immediately pushed him back up and began to look over his jaw, but Dean was not finished. He got back up and hit John right back, which outraged him. He took it out on both Dean and then Cameron, but between the two of them, he was beaten, and he disappeared from our lives just like that.
They were there and finally free: my family. Dean was no longer John's punching bag. Cas was no longer afraid of losing Dean at any moment. My mother was in shock, but that was something she would overcome with time. Gabriel seemed relieved as he saw Cas begin to fuss over my brother, and Cameron… strong, brave, and independent, Cameron. I loved her far more than words can begin to say, and I was eternally grateful for having found her in life.
My mind took a while to process what had happened. My dad was beaten. I was actually free, and the idea was honestly so unknown to me that I kind of sat in shock for a few minutes. I blinked up at Cas, who was worrying over each little injury I had gotten. It was what he was used to doing, and he knew perfectly well that I had seen worse. Battle scars - that's what they were, and I have a lot more of those to show for, but I guess the point of battle scars is just to remember the day that the battle was over and victory was decided. Yeah, I think I felt pretty victorious as my head snapped towards Cas. My suppressed emotions began to come forth all at once, something inside of my just screaming at me to kiss Cas. John was gone. I didn't have to…
I didn't need to convince myself any further. I went for it without a second thought, not giving myself the chance to hesitate.
Cas's eyes widened as he felt my lips on his, but he surprisingly seemed to pull away.
"Dean…" He sounded hurt and angry as his low voice came out, his face still close to mine. "If you're just kissing me because you're excited, then I'd suggest you find someone else to-"
I cut him off by crushing my lips back into his, not good with my own words, so I decided to let my mouth speak for me, trying to tell him how much I actually cared about him. "It's not. I promise." I huffed out as we pulled apart.
A toothy grin spread across his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing, the corners of his eyes crinkled as wonder filled his face, and finally, I was able to enjoy that look without worrying about being transparent. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he did not cry. He raised his hand to wipe at his eyes, but it came back with some of my blood that he been transferred to his face while we kissed, and his eyes widened.
"We've got to get you looked at." Cas immediately realized, the grin dropping from his face as his gaze swept over me again.
"It's fine, Cas. I've seen worse. I'd rather just stay here." I smirked, but it was then that I remembered Sam and Cameron were still there. "But… uh…" I awkwardly jerked my head towards my brother's newfound girlfriend. "She should get that nose looked at." My nod and gaze was more like a thank you to her. I know that I couldn't have stood up to my dad if it hadn't been for her, so I guess I didn't hate her after all. Yeah, I guess she wasn't so bad.
My mind still seems to be a swirling maelstrom from that moment in time in which my greatest desires began to unfold one after the other. It was nearly inconceivable at the time, but after pulling away from Dean and feeling his blood on my hand and smeared onto my face.
I had insisted on taking him to the hospital despite his protests. I had just finally found him, it perhaps he had just found himself, but nevertheless, I was still not willing to take any risks when it came to his safety. The person that I loved most in the world had just been liberated from his most restricting burden of his life, and I intended to be with him every step of the way.
Sam seemed to have a similar thought process, seeing as he too worriedly carried Cameron off towards the hospital despite her incessant protests that she was fine.
Even years later, I still found my situation with Dean to be profoundly bemusing. Dean and I had gone from little infants playing with blocks to toddlers with toy trains and trucks. We had been children peeking over the fence that separated us and sneaking over to swing on the swingset or go on adventures through the forests in our backyards consisting of approximately ten trees. We became preteens who often liked to do reckless things such as try and climb onto Dean's rooftop via the tree in his backyard. I broke my leg, and Dean told me it could not be too bad and that I should just keep climbing. He took it back when he saw my X-ray. We then became young teenagers. I realized that I had steadily fallen in love with my best friend, while Dean moved onto hitting on every girl he saw. Our Senior year, he took Lisa Braeden to prom, and while I was quite jealous, I stubbornly insisted upon bringing Balthazar - a very flirtatious British boy - as my date almost as payback, but I did almost enjoy his company. Balthazar and I spent a good portion of the night together, but strangely enough, so did Dean and I, and while I did not learn this until later, Dean's date even just told him to go to me because he "clearly was more into his best friend." We even began to dance a slow dance together towards the end as a half joke, but fear overtook Dean, and he ran away and left me alone. To say that I was unaffected would certainly be a lie. I cried afterwards, but Balthazar seemed to understand and comforted me on the way home. Then we were shouting on a roof top because I simply hated containing my own feelings. We graduated, but we both stayed at home. We were both mentally unstable, but we both smiled for the most and buried everything. Things moved on mostly the same until that moment after Sam's graduation. Then, all of my emotions suddenly spilled forth. It was as if every single prayer I had ever made came true, and I felt ecstatic and overflowing with an unimaginable joy. Dean loved me too. That was the best thing I could have wished for. Even after we got married and adopted our daughter, Charlotte, who by all means is a light in my life that seems to brighten every day with innocent sweetness, I could not have wished for more than what I have, and I still cannot fathom how it came to be, but they say never to look the gift horse in the mouth, so I suppose that is one direction that I shall never dare to commission my eyes to venture. After all, love did somehow seem to preside over the temporal troubles and provide victory in the end, but that love was birthed from pain. I suppose all love is. Love cannot exist without pain. It is theoretically impossible. My life has taught me that much. I had learned that love and pain were best friends, so where one is, the other is bound to be, but love is also about mending that pain. It's a circular concept because that same love will inflict more pain at a later date, but I think that the point is this: Without love we are nothing. With it, we are broken and empowered at the same time. Pain and love are essential to the human experience, and while they may seem like opposites, they are really one in the same.