A/N: OMFG YOU GUYS ARE SO NICE Like seriously I didn't expect people to actually like it and omg I'm so happy now! Welp here's chapter two I hope you like this one too! I'm pretty busy atm though, like I only have two free days (Monday and Tuesday) so I hope I can update once a week at least, and for this fic I'm SUPER inspired. Got lotsa cool ideas y'know? So let's see how this works out. I did this "soundtrack" thing for one of my multi-chapters so I'll do it for this one too bceause why not? Anyways you didn't come here to hear me talk you came here to hear my story. Here ya go! I love to get review btw don't be shyyy ;)

Soundtrack for this chapter: Medicine by Daughter

The Day I Fly Away

Chapter II

The feeling of being completely and absolutely trapped is indescribable other than to those whom have felt it. The feeling of being closed in on, chest tightening and all you want to do is scream but you can't, or if you do it just isn't loud enough. Voice hoarse and sticking to your throat like poison and just burning. This burning this blazing fire that won't go away and water only makes it worse like in a kitchen fire. And still, I have not described it accurately, because, only those of you who have felt this way know exactly what I'm talking about—know exactly how Castiel felt at that moment.

"Calm down! Calm down! Nurse!"

Castiel screamed and pushed himself against the wall. Arms flailing and hitting anyone that got to close to him. He pushed a chair over and in front of him in defense. It was like watching someone play a two-person video game, except there's a glitch because there's only one character on the screen, and no matter how many times you hit square-for-punch the other's health gauge just won't go down.

"No one's hurting you, Castiel, you need to calm down!" the nurse's head swiveled around, "Someone get something to calm him down!"

Castiel hugged his knees and kept screaming, his fingernails digging into the skin of his legs, but the pain was not enough to get him to stop, the clouds never felt so heavy above him, made of the heaviest lead and silver. Unlock those gates to Heaven, oh please, let Castiel be free. His foot kicked at nothing and tears streamed down his face like rain off the side of a broken building because please please please, but no one knew what he was begging for, and no one could see what was tormenting him.

"Cas! Dude, calm down!" Dean shouted as he ran up to the scene. He grabbed Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel threw his arm in Dean's direction with a terrified yelp, knocking him away, "Don't touch me!" he screamed, his voice cracking and he kept swiping at the air. "Please don't touch me anymore!"

Castiel felt talons ripping at the insides of his head, pricking into his eyes and just, oh for the love of God stop. He threw his head from side to side and curled in on himself, shouting at the thing, the person, that no one could see to get away from him. His eyes squeezed shut and all he wanted to do was scream louder so he did. All he wanted to feel was nothing, but he could not feel nothing. How he yearned to be sucked into oblivion but—

Castiel must have been wishing too hard because a needle plunged into his forearm and he felt his body falling limp and he collapsed on the tile floor, the Sorry game pieces falling out of his pocket as he felt his eyes growing weary with fatigue. He stopped fighting and allowed himself to sleep.

A bottle of pills was placed with an audible thud in the middle of the table.

Dean looked from the bottle to Castiel and pursed his lips.

Castiel looked from the bottle to Dean and squinted.

"Yours," Dean proclaimed and pointed at the medicine. "You'll have to take those every morning now."

Castiel grimaced but took the bottle and slid it in front of himself, tapping the lid with his finger absentmindedly. It's Naomi's fault, you know that, Samandriel said in attempt to comfort him. She gets into all of our heads. Castiel nodded and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"It'd help to talk about it, you know," Dean said and leaned forward. He looked like every other doctor again. Castiel wanted him to be Dean not Doctor.

Castiel shrugged. He wouldn't believe you anyways. Just like all those other doctors, Samandriel added. "I know," Castiel told him, but at least he felt a bit better knowing he wasn't alone. There was a lengthy pause with Dean looking at him expectantly, and that's when Castiel realized Dean probably thought he had answered him.

"No, I mean, that was to Samandriel," Castiel explained. "He said you're just like all those other doctors. You wouldn't believe me anyways."

Dean sat forward with his arms on the table. "Hey, listen to me," he said sternly, "Like I said, you are what you say you are. The world is only what people make of it, and if that's what you say you are, if that's what you say happened, that's the truth. It's real."

But Castiel still hadn't looked up. Dean grabbed the pills from Castiel, rattling them around until Castiel looked up confusedly. He's not like the others, Meg interjected. I told you, you like him because he isn't like the others.

"Look at me," Dean demanded in a voice that Castiel couldn't refuse.

Castiel's gaze snapped up and I could get lost in your eyes. I am.

"Did it feel real?" Dean asked and his eyes never left Castiel's in that way that made Castiel feel like he was wading waist-deep in a river, stepping over rocks and stones and tree branches. Do you feel that wind that whispers past his ear or see the mountain that fell to his knees to have a look at Dean's eyes?

Castiel nodded numbly.

"Then it happened, and I'll believe you. But I can't believe this air between us or this table or—" Dean rattled the bottle of pills around some more— "These. You have to tell me."

Castiel felt like he was sitting in a bathtub filled with ice. He couldn't stop shaking, stop shivering, but somehow it was okay because Dean, and that single word, single name was the only justification he ever needed.

"It was Naomi," he said in a fear-stricken voice.

Dean leaned back in his chair, seemingly content with getting Castiel to talk. "Naomi? Who's Naomi? Is she an angel, too?"

Castiel nodded. "Father is gone, so she runs a lot of Heaven now."

Dean made a noise of understanding. "So what happened? What did she do?"

Castiel screamed in pain as a hand pulled his hair, forcing him to his knees. His bloodshot eyes looked up pleadingly to the woman above him. She cursed at him and spat on his face, pulling his hair harder and threw him into the wall. She shouted over and over at him that it was his fault, and alas all of Castiel's pleads and cries for forgiveness, he was unheard. He drove himself hoarse and deaf of his own voice and oh God, could he not scream enough?

Castiel started to shake in fear at he didn't even know what, something buried so deeply within him that only a crack would make him scream and beg to be forgiven for something he didn't remember what. He only wanted to be forgiven.

"Hey, hey, Cas, you okay, man?" Dean said hastily, "You're okay you know that right? You're safe in here. I put angel warding around so no one can get you."

"But I'm an angel, too. How can I be in here then?"

Dean shrugged, "Guess you're just special. You're my angel."

And if those words didn't make Castiel's heart flutter nothing would.

Castiel gave a shaking breath and he looked back up at Dean. "She gets in all our heads," he told him. "That's how Samandriel puts it."

"Your brother?"

Castiel nodded.

"All right then. Start talkin'," Dean said, pushing his chair back and kicking his feet up jokingly.

Castiel chuckled and Dean laughed too, taking his feet back down, but leaned forward to show Castiel he was serious about the talking part. Castiel didn't know where to start, really. He reached his to his pocket for his Sorry game pieces, but found his pocket was empty. His eyes widened and he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning them inside out.

"Where's—" he said frantically and stood up, looking around the room.

"Where's what?" Dean said, his doctor voice back. Castiel didn't like that voice.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "Sorry game. Pawn. Red."

"These?"

Dean pulled out five red pawns from his bag and put them on the table, watching them roll before coming to a slow stop. One was standing up straight while the other four were on their sides. Castiel let out a relieved breath.

"Yes," he said breathlessly, "Yes."

He collected the pieces and put them back in his pocket, taking the one that was still standing and turned it over in his hand. It felt heavy, weighing down in his hand and burning and blistering the skin. He looked back up at Dean.

"What did you do to it?"

"The game pieces? I just picked them up when you dropped them. Is anything wrong?"

Castiel looked back at his palm. "Nothing. They're just different."

"A bad different? Want me to get you a new game board?"

But Castiel shook his head and said, "It isn't bad. Just different."

The door opened and another patient poked their head in. Castiel took that as a sign to leave and he started towards the door, still looking at the game piece.

"Cas!" Dean called, and Castiel turned around. Dean waved the bottle of pills at him. "Catch!"

The bottle of pills fell to the floor a few feet short.

"Sorry," Castiel muttered and bent down to pick it up.

"Nah, my bad. I shouldn't have thrown them."

Castiel picked up the pills silently, the bottle feeling as strange as the game pieces did, but he pretended it didn't bother him at all. He closed the door slowly and his bare feet dragged across the tiles. To be reading a book, and feel as if you are in a desert, is that even possible? To be eating ice cream but feel like you're drowning in salt water—that seemed impossible, too. To be afraid of heights, afraid of falling, but not afraid of the arms spread out before him under the clouds of the first fall, it seemed unlikely. But it was true. You like him, you like him, you really really like him, Meg chanted in a singsong voice.

"Shut up," Castiel grumbled and shoved the red pawn and the medicine into different pockets.

Your move, Gabriel said.

Castiel picked up a card, being in the main room, he had an actual board again with actual cards. The paper between his fingers felt crusting and old, undeserving of such treatment from others. He could see patients in the past bending the cards, biting the corner in concentration. No one deserves to be used like that. He moved his red pawn over three spaces and nodded to Gabriel. Gabriel's pawns were yellow. He moved four spaces. Castiel sat up straighter with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips in a game of tug-a-war. He picked up another card and this time he moved two spaces.

So what's up Cassie?

Castiel shrugged and then nodded to him for him to move. He did.

Meg told me you had a crush, Gabriel raised his eyebrows up suggestively.

"I do not have a crush," Castiel denied, but despite his words a blush crawled up his face.

Gabriel held his hands up in mock surrender before moving a few more spaces.

"You have to go back to start," Castiel told Gabriel when he picked up a new card; his eyes looked up seemingly in a pleading manner. "Sorry."

Gabriel shrugged indifferently and moved his pawn back. They continued playing the game in relative silence, listening to the others around them. Some patients were loud and laughed hysterically for no reason, and some were stonily silent. Castiel's hands felt cold and he rubbed them together, looking at the open window and debating whether or not to close it. He never did.

But there was something comforting from the window, this feeling of light both in air and of refreshment. Green was never green enough no matter where he looked; some say the grass is always greener on the other side, but Castiel disagrees. The grass is dull on his side and grey on sides farther. May he dig until his fingers are coated and caked in dirt, lather up the soap but still he cannot hide the grime. All he wants to do is be clean.

Castiel stood up, collecting his pawns and stuffing them back into his pocket. Gabriel didn't ask why he stopped playing anymore. Castiel never finished any games he started. He walked aimlessly, finding himself in the garden; how he loved the garden, singing, dancing, waltzing, but there was no music, there didn't need to be. There were a couple people walking around like he was, some with their doctors and some laying down in the grass. Flowers reached up and grabbed his ankles, Stay, they told him and danced around him.

"I can't," he replied, "Sorry."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry—!"

"YOU NEVER ARE!"

"Cas?" he heard Dean call a few feet down. He was sitting on a bench with a girl.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said and Dean smiled. Castiel felt a smile growing on his own face but he suppressed it.

You like him, Meg teased again and Castiel's cheeks flushed because of course he didn't. You keep telling yourself that, Clarence.

They didn't say anything more though, because Castiel passed him either out of embarrassment or thinking himself as bothersome. Dean was with a patient anyways. The sky beckoned Castiel to return home, but he knew he could not. No, he never could, not yet. He ventured to the middle of the garden where a man was tending to the flowers. How kind of him.

He's sorry. He really is.

Castiel pulled a game piece out of his pocket, rubbing it between his fingers absentmindedly as he sat down among the flowers and the bees and the butterflies and can he please fall into nothing? He raised a hand and squinted at the sun between his fingers. He closed his eyes.

He could feel the bees flying in front of his face and he smiled that thin-caked smile. The type of thin that you get if you roll pizza dough out too much. Castiel never made pizza before, but he could imagine it. That's how he smiled. There were patients around him swatting at the bees, and that did not make Castiel smile, that made him frown. Bees were gentle and misunderstood. They could sting only once and die right there. They would live their lives out in fear I have one chance to defend myself, and even if I do, it will kill me.

"I won't hurt you," he said to the bees. "I promise. Don't hurt yourself over me. I don't want to hurt anyone. I really really don't. I never wanted to hurt anyone."

The bees clouded his vision and he smiled. He could hear them say back, I know. It's okay, and as much as Castiel doubted it, he allowed himself to believe it just for that moment.

"Okay," he said softly in a voice that skipped once over the blazing hot, hard and uneven gravel. "Okay."