Thank you for your reviews!
crankthatphan: I'm glad you liked it! Your review meant a lot!
TheCandyChild: I can tell you like whump :) Hope this chapter works for you!
…
Cas sat at his kitchen table, frozen with fear, unable to think as Dean tied him up with rough rope that dug into his skin. Luckily, he was wearing his new trenchcoat, so the rope didn't come in contact with his skin.
Dean worked efficiently, and it was obvious that he knew what he was doing.
Cas closed his eyes.
There was no way out of this.
…
Dean had to slip away when he saw that Cas had given up. Usually, victims' hopeless expressions gave him a surge of power or glee, but now he just felt sick.
Dean entered the nearest room and shut the door behind him. He couldn't stand to see Cas' limp form, looking extra small with the large trenchcoat he was wearing.
Looking around with interest, Dean found himself standing in what had to be Castiel's bedroom. The walls were a pale blue and complimented the dark blue blankets on Cas' bed, which was in the far back corner.
The room was simple and neat, without any decoration. Besides the bed, Cas only had a desk, which had only one item on top of it, a picture.
Dean walked over despite himself and held up the photograph. Cas was in it, in the middle of a large group of people.
He looked to be about fifteen. There was a redheaded girl on his left, and a smaller boy. On Cas' right was more people. There were three older boys and two adults.
With a jolt, Dean realized that he was seeing Cas' family. They were all smiling genuine smiles (save for one of the older boys, who was smirking), and they looked so happy that Dean threw the photo down to the floor in a wave of rage, where it shattered.
As Dean realized what he had done and went to scoop up the pieces, he felt a deep ache in his chest. Dean told himself it had nothing to do with how happy Cas was with his family, how he didn't have an absent father or dead mother, nothing whatsoever.
Glaring one more time at the picture, Dean left the room and walked back to Cas.
Cas' eyes were still shut tightly, but now his lips were moving. He was praying. Some of Dean's victims had done this before they were killed, so why was he feeling so damn guilty?
Dean rubbed his temples. The whole job was messing with his head. Next time, I don't go to dinner with the one I will kill.
Cas finally opened his startling blue eyes when Dean pressed the side of his knife Cas' face. They were scared and resigned, but the spark in them had not completely been put out. Dean hated himself for being glad about that fact.
Pressing the knife point to Cas' cheek, Dean steadied himself and prepared to make the first incision. He pictured all the injustice in his life, all the times where he was made to be in charge, where he had to move schools, where he had to lie to Sam about what their dad was doing. Rage boiled up in Dean; his guilt was gone; he was pressing the knife in…
When two deep blue pools cut into his haze.
Blinking furiously, Dean felt reality fall over him. Had the hell had Cas' eyes manage to dissipate all of his anger?
Either way, Dean could tell there was no going back. Guilt lay over him like a heavy blanket, and he let the knife drop to the ground as he stared at the red drop of blood dripping down Castiel's cheek like a tear.
Cas looked surprised but wary as he saw that Dean had stopped. It made Dean angry, but not the same angry as when he killed a person. Just…frustrated.
Cas had an effect on Dean that made him very uncomfortable. Not even Sammy could cut into one of Dean's rages.
Breathing heavily, Dean sat on the ground as he remembered…
Dean returned home from his most recent murder, blood still on his hands. He had been hoping to blow off steam—John had delayed his return by two months more than the money he left them could provide. Dean wanted to forget everything, forget that he and Sammy hadn't eaten a full meal in a week, forget that their clothes were wearing thin and Sam needed new school supplies.
Killing the man had certainly helped, and Dean even managed to take his wallet (which contained only a $50 bill), but returning home, Dean was still in a bad mood. Sam greeted his brother, but Dean brushed him off.
"I don't want to deal with you tonight, Sammy," he said, bloody hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Dean…it's just, my computer died and I think I need a new one." Sammy's voice was pathetic and it made Dean angrier.
"Not my problem, okay?" Dean started up the stairs. "I don't have the money."
"Dean, please," Sam followed him. "There's a school paper I have to turn in by Friday, and I can't keep writing them out by hand. My teacher threatened me with detention!"
"And you think I care?" Dean had reached his limit. He knocked someone to the ground, and pounded his fists on them.
Suddenly, Dean's world was on fire. Sparks were everywhere, and the only thing that mattered was the person he was punching. Skin on skin contact; hearing distant screams of pain and feeling sticky, wet blood collect on his knuckles.
When Dean stopped, it was only to wipe his knuckles, which had become too slippery with blood to hit with. That was when he realized what he had done.
Sam ended up getting a detention the next day at school, when he told his teacher he had gotten in a fight.
When he got home, Dean wasn't there.
But there was a brand new laptop sitting on his bed.
They had never brought up the incident since.
…
Sorry for making you guys wait so long for the update!
Also, if there's a character you want to see more of in the story, just review! If you want more whump, just review! More fighting? Just review!
