A/N I forgot to label the story as complete, because as I said in the description, it was supposed to be a one shot. But I forgot to, and two people asked me to continue, so here I go.
That night was no exception to the screaming that Dean had to endure every night. He always woke up to sweat dripping down his body, and the tears were drying on his face. He wiped a hand slowly down his face, looking over at the Castiel doll that was perfectly curled into his side.
"Mr. Winchester?" A small woman peeked in from the slightly open door. "Can I get you anything?"
Dean smiled, laughing in absolute pain. "You can get me a gun so I can shoot myself in the head." They had taken away all the weapons that Dean carried with him when he got to the hospital with a hesitant worrying gaze and telling him that it 'wasn't safe to have weapons on you'. Thanks to that, Dean was now completely vulnerable. Thanks to that, Dean also had less of a chance of killing himself. If he was going to commit suicide, it definitely wasn't going to be with some bed wire or something.
The woman only smiled at Dean with sad eyes. "How about I get you some juice?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll pass this time." Picking up the doll, he walked pass the nurse into the common room where he saw all the other psychos.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that some angel could push him so far off the deep end that he was with a bunch of other lunatics. "God dammit!" He threw the Cas doll at the side of the table. A few alarmed yelps sent a few nurses running towards Dean. "Mr. Winchester-"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. I-" But Dean stopped when he saw the doll on the floor. It had a small puncture wound in the front from being slammed into the corner of the table.
"Cas?"
Dean's hands trembled as he picked up the doll, carefully pushing some of the stuffing back in. The tears were freshly hot on his eyes again, and he had to will himself not to cry in front of a bunch of people. "Dammit." he whispered into the doll's hair.
That outburst left Dean alone in his room, while the nurse that made it for him stitched the side back up. Laying on the bed, he watched the ceiling, counting every single small bump or imperfection he could find. It made him feel a little better thinking that the ceiling had more imperfections than Dean himself did.
Or maybe it didn't.
"Cas, why'd you have to leave?" he called out. "Why'd the angels abandon me?" When no one answered, Dean sighed and got up from the bed. Slowly working a piece of the bed frame off, he smiled at the thought that he was coming to this. No, he wasn't going to kill himself – that had already been established. But the pain... oh god, the pain. Many times Dean had thought of given up; but there had always been someone there to pull him back up. Now he had no one – not Bobby, not his brother, and not Cas.
So taking the small metal piece, Dean scratched it across his left wrist, watching as a small line of blood formed. Satisfied, he threw the metal in a corner. The pain was enough, that he was temporarily freed of the thoughts of the angel he called friend.
The bliss didn't last for long, and it only ended up making Dean kick the side of the bed in frustration. "God, I'm like a teenager." He sighed, covering his eyes as he got down on his knees.
"Castiel! God dammit, get down here! I don't care if I have to sell my soul, just come back. Please!" he yelled out. "Please, I'm begging. I'll do anything."
"Anything?"
Dean whipped around, causing his still bloody wrist to catch on edge of the frame, cutting it a little more open. "Fuck!" Dean swore, briefly closing his eyes in pain before opening them again to see who had responded to him.
In front of him was a very dark haired male, with matching dark eyes, and a snarky smile. He wore a black vest over a collared white shirt along with some jeans. It seemed like most demons were trying to be in a fashion contest.
Looking at Dean's wrist, the man's smile grew and he began to shake his finger at Dean. "Looks like you're trying out how it is to be a teenage girl."
"Who are you?" Dean demanded, feeling around in his pocket for a gun, when he remembered there was nothing there. This made the man snort.
"Not so powerful are you now, Dean Winchester? If it so peeks your interest, my name is Daniel. I know – a pretty normal name for a demon." Daniel drawled his last word out, making Dean's fists clench.
"Well it's been nice knowing you, ass monkey, but I'm not up to talking with demons right now. Why don't you just go right back to Hell. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. omnis satanica potestas-" Dean began the exorcism, but Daniel grabbed his neck, squeezing gently.
"I don't think so, big guy. You asked for your angel back, and I'm here to help you with that. I thought that was what you wanted, wasn't it?"Dean stopped the incantation, opening and closing his mouth in surprise, and Daniel let go.
"I-"
"You want him back, don't you? You love him. And you'd even sell your soul just to have him back... that's dedication right there. You've only been willing to do that for your family."
"He is family, you ass."
"Then make a deal with me." Daniel's eyes bore into Dean's, making him gulp. Glancing at the trench coat on the bed, he felt his chest tighten.
"Alright."
