A few tears did manage to slip out, the self-hatred that he had for himself just being too overwhelming for them not to spill hot and heavy over his cheeks and onto the paper that was rattling softly in his trembling hands before he tossed it back down where Dean had been sitting and wiped agitatedly at his face. This was a mean joke, meaner than any April fool's joke that Gabriel had ever played on him and so much meaner than anything he had ever called himself-stupid, worthless, a failure, invisible, forgotten.
It just didn't make any sense, either Dean was a very very good actor who got off on making people fall all over themselves for him, just like Balthazar, or literally everyone he had thought he was getting along with on the ward had been playing a cruel joke on him since he had first stepped foot into the hospital. Charlie and Becky and everyone had just been conspiring to make him look foolish and how he reacted to Dean must have been obvious since that first tour otherwise how could he explain the first drawing?
The one in Missouri's office was still a mystery, but it was probably done by the actual person 'M.W.' and his new friends had gotten them to draw things that they could pass off as being from a secret admirer, fuck it probably was creepy, sour-faced Martin who had done them after all. He deserved this though, for making Dean uncomfortable just like he had Alfie and for being mean to Charlie and for being so envious of his siblings' success and for not crying at his mom's funeral. He was a terrible person who deserved to have terrible things happen to him and dying was too merciful for someone like him.
That's why, even though he was trying to be mad at the people he should be mad at (Charlie, Becky...Dean), he couldn't seem to muster up any other emotions besides embarrassment and hopelessness. He felt so very foolish for letting himself think that maybe Dean could actually like him back, that maybe he wasn't so inept and beaten down by life itself and someone could see that all he wanted was to be wanted by someone in return. And god, he had just been to the point where if someone as great as the other man wanted him, then it didn't even matter that Dean was a boy and not a girl at all.
That was a lie, it still mattered.
But maybe while he was here in the hospital away from his family and friends that would judge him for it, he could have seen himself being happy indulging in Dean's company. In reveling in the soft smiles and the quick laughter of the handsome patient who would obviously never ever in a million years want him, just like Meg. It didn't have to mean anything, because it didn't mean anything with Meg and he had been dealing with that up until now, but it would've made getting through this more bearable. But now what did he have? Nothing, no friends and no family and no one who thought that he was anything.
Cas let out a broken, unintended sob and buried his face in his hands to muffle the noise. He didn't want Dean or Charlie hearing how miserable he was over their joke, they were probably laughing at him right now and Gabe had always told him not to give bullies the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to him. But fucking shit, they had gotten to him. He had thought that it was Crowley and Dick or Ruby and Lilith that he had to watch out for; he thought by now he would know when someone was just using him, but well wasn't there some saying about it always being the quiet ones or something?
The tears raced then, when his face was hidden and no one could see him crying like a little boy who had fallen down and skinned his knee. Only these weren't crocodile tears meant to get consoling kisses and murmured platitudes from his mom or dad, they fucking hurt. Like acid burning that ran in stinging rivulets down his chin until they dripped onto the denim of his jeans and he pulled his knees up to his chest because it felt like he was going to collapse into himself from how much this hurt.
He just wanted this whole hospital mistake to be over with, so he could go home and bury himself in homework again. While away the rest of his days alone with his numbers and his books and his miserable little existence; if he got back on the medication then he could deal with it, the emptiness. Because if this was what having feelings again meant then he hadn't been missing much and he was more than happy to go back to being numb and alone as long as his heart didn't feel like it had been ripped out and stomped on by every person who might mean something to him.
I won't kill myself, he promised. God? Cas didn't know, just whoever it was that might be watching over him. If you make this stop, I will just go on. Like I was before, I'll be useful and insignificant and content with being nothing. Just make this stop, please make this stop.
"Well, balls. What's wrong with you?"
Castiel looked up, squinting through the tear-streaked lenses of his glasses at Bobby who was standing in front of the bench with his hands on his hips. He sniffled and wiped at his nose, not remembering that his cardigan had traveled off with someone who he didn't want to think about until he felt the mucus against his forearm and grimaced apologetically at the older man for being so gross. He knew the exact instant that the nurse realized that he had been crying because Bobby cursed under his breath again and made to plop down next to him on the bench, right on top of the drawing that Cas knew he shouldn't give a shit about.
So why did he?
"Wait," he forced out, his throat feeling raw and abused even though he hadn't been sobbing, had in fact been trying desperately not to make any noise at all while he cried. "Let me get that first."
Cas picked up the drawing of his glasses, his stomach clenching guiltily when he saw that the tears he had shed on the page had caused smeared discolorations on the sentence that Dean had written at the top of the page. He set his knees back down on the bench and settled the drawing in his lap, tracing over the lines as Bobby sat down gingerly beside him and took off the trucker hat that he was wearing.
"So what's wrong with you, kid?" The nurse asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair before he rooted around in the pocket of his over shirt and produced a package of Kleenex that he offered Castiel.
"Nothing," he mumbled, taking two Kleenex; using one to clean his glasses and the other to surreptitiously wipe the last of the tears off of his face.
Bobby sighed and leaned back on the bench, settling his hat back onto his head and stretching out his legs in front of him. "Don't lie to me, Castiel. I've already dealt with a food fight, three almost breakdowns, and two patients who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm a just a little bit grumpy; so you can talk to me if you want, but don't insult my intelligence. You're obviously upset about something, might as well tell me because Jim will just preach at you and Hester with give you meds to put you to sleep just so she doesn't have to deal with you."
Castiel remained silent, how was he supposed to talk about this? He never had before, not with his family or his friends or anyone because he didn't know half the time what this was. So he had liked Dean, like more than just as a friend and he had gotten his hopes up, gotten lost in his head like he used to do when he was messing around on the piano and something great ended up coming out on accident.
Maybe he had hoped that Dean would save him, from himself and from being invisible, but if the scars on the other man's arms were anything to go by then Dean couldn't even save himself let alone anyone else. That probably should have been his first tip off that something wasn't right about this whole situation. No one with that much damage of their own could possibly be as nice as Dean had seemed to be.
"It got something to do with this?" Bobby asked, tapping his finger on the drawing that Castiel hadn't even realized he was staring at until the older man's finger appeared over the word 'Sorry'.
He glanced up at the nurse who was watching him with a calculating expression on his face and shrugged before dropping his eyes back to the drawing. Fuck, he should have shaken his head.
"Y'know," Bobby started, clearing his throat in a meaningful kind of way causing Castiel to look up at the older man. "I know Dean can come across as a bit of a jackass sometimes, but his heart's in the right place."
"I'm not upset about Dean," Castiel lied, shifting his feet down to the floor and briskly folding the drawing up neatly along the crease that had already been put into the paper.
He should want to rip it up, but he didn't because someone had spent time on it and his mom had taught him to respect art in all its forms. So he was going to keep it at least long enough to ask Martin if he wanted it back, if he didn't well, he didn't know what he would do with it, but Cas couldn't keep it for himself now. He had enough possessions with painful memories attached to them; he didn't need to be a hoarder on top of depressed too.
"Okay then," the nurse said, putting his hands on his knees and making like he was about to get to his feet. "Well, if you decide to stop lying to me I'll be here tomorrow after lunch for my shift. Or y'know your therapist, she's the expert."
"And if I am upset about Dean?" Castiel asked desperately, looking down at the paper that crinkled alarmingly in his hands as they clenched convulsively in his lap. "What in the hell do you suggest I do about it?"
"If you had asked me the first time that he was here," Bobby started, smiling down at his hands as he remembered his early encounters with Dean, when the teen ward had been under construction and the then fifteen year old's brashness had gotten on his damn nerves. "I would've said pop him one in the mouth and then you'd be square, but now...talk to him. If he's coming on too strong, then I'm sure the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable, so he'll stop. Just tell him."
Castiel could feel the hysterical laughter burbling up in his chest in response to the older man's advice. He was pretty sure that the whole point of Dean's cruel joke was to make him uncomfortable, but Cas managed to tamp it down by biting on his lip and nodding his thanks for Bobby's completely unhelpful words of wisdom.
"Okay?' Bobby asked, slapping Castiel lightly on the back before climbing stiffly to his feet with a soft groan. "Damn I'm getting old. Come on, off to bed with you."
He followed the older man towards the nurse's station, mostly because he had absolutely no desire to walk past Dean and Charlie's room again, only to be stopped by Ellen who shoved one of the daily menus brusquely across the counter towards him with a look that brought to mind every disapproving look his mom had ever given him when he had been too busy playing the keyboard with his headphones on to clean his room or take out the trash. So he blindly circled a couple of things on the list and gave it back to her right as Jim and Hester key carded their way through the door with sleepy sounding greetings towards the other two nurses.
"Why is he still up?" Hester asked, jutting her chin at Castiel like he wasn't right there and she couldn't just ask him herself.
"Kid's having a rough night," Bobby explained, not looking up from the clipboard that he was scratching notes on. "Fili and Kili are still up down there too, Crowley's ticked that he's on an arms length restriction now, Becky again. But I think that's about it as far as your night owls go."
"So four or five?" Jim sighed, setting down a battered backpack behind the desk and looking over Bobby's shoulder at the clipboard. "Four."
"Yep and Cas is right off to bed, aren't you boy?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.
Castiel nodded and started trailing down the hallway, glancing into Crowley's room as he passed to see the other man sitting angrily on the floor right inside his bedroom door. When he saw Cas looking at him he smiled, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.
"I'm not going to sleep until I talk to my doctor!" Crowley hollered, angling his face towards the nurse's station. "This is utter bollocks! You cannot deny a man his right to fornicate!"
He shook his head and walked faster towards his bedroom, ducking inside just as he heard Hester's snappish voice reprimanding the other man, telling him that he had already talked to his doctor and this was what Missouri wanted so he just needed to be quiet already. Cas wondered who else was up right now, Kili and Fili? They sounded like familiar names, but he wasn't sure from where so he just moved to pick up his GRE study guide instead, sliding the new drawing in with the first one before settling down on his bed and flipping the heavy book open to a random page.
If he studied then he could start building back up the wall that he hadn't even realized was compromised until he had let the strangers in this hospital slip past his defenses. Cas couldn't let it happen again, wouldn't and he didn't plan on talking to Dean because he was pretty sure it would end with his crying again. So that left him with his family once he got out, now that he had ruined things with Meg who was bound to tell his roommate about his awkward pseudo-confession of love, his family that was too busy and too important to worry about him pretty much ever; they wouldn't ask about why he was so quiet now, why he didn't have a girlfriend because they never had asked before. They wouldn't ask if his heart was still broken, because he didn't plan on telling them that it ever had been in the first place.
He knew it was a dream this time, because his mom was there and while he was lucid enough to enjoy spending time with her, he couldn't control much else going on around him.
It was a sort of memory, one from after they knew that she was sick and after she had shaved off all of her grey-streaked blonde hair to donate it to Locks of Love, saying that she might as well since it was going to get all brittle and fall out anyway from the chemotherapy. Anna had wanted to shave her head too in solidarity, but her dance instructor had threatened to take the lead in the fall ballet pageant away from her if she did and that had been enough to end that little heartfelt gesture.
She was humming an old Brue Springsteen song under her breath as she made breakfast, they had both always been the early risers in the family and it made for a lot of one on one time for him and his mom. It gave her plenty of time to gently berate him for comparing himself to his siblings all the time, saying that he wasn't Michael or Gabriel and they had different talents than he did so he shouldn't force something that wasn't there.
"That goes for that girl too," His mom warned, sliding chocolate chip pancakes in front of him. "She's just using you, dear. That's why she lets you pay for things all the time and did you know she put your brother down as a reference for a job? Michael was fit to burst."
This hadn't been part of the original memory, but the reference part was true.
"Why would Meg do that?" Castiel asked, digging into the pancakes that were as good in his dream as he remembered, just the right about of melty chocolate that didn't overwhelm him with sweetness. "She gets bored listening to me talk about accounting; never in a million years would she want to work for a hedge fund."
He smiled at the outlandish neon green headscarf that she was wearing, it had been her favorite for a reason that none of them could understand. This was a good dream, after the hell his day had been he deserved to have a good dream.
"Either way, you're much better off now," His mom mused setting a third plate at the table with them, causing Castiel to frown at the extra chocolately pancakes. His dad liked plain pancakes and the writer was the only one likely to be up this early as well. "Such a nice boy and sweet. So sweet, Castiel. Really, you could do much worse."
"What the hell are you talking about, mom?" Cas mumbled out around a mouth full of breakfast food, jumping in the mismatched wooden chair that he was sitting in at in his parent's kitchen in SoHo when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders and chest. Lips pressed softly into his hair as he tried to turn his head to look at who was behind him.
"You're right, Mrs. Shurley." Dean said, grinning as he took the empty seat and started digging into the obnoxious looking pancakes that must have been his. "Meg was so much worse.'
"Mom, what the fuck is he doing here?" Castiel asked, sounding slightly panicked when his stomach twisted at the sight of the other man, threatening to make him lose his subconscious pancakes.
"He's here because you want him here, sweetie." Amelia Shurley said off-handedly, patting Dean's arm affectionately when the other man just grinned at her, cheeks puffed out and full of food.
"I don't want him here!" he exclaimed, pushing back from the table hard enough that his chair clattered over behind him onto the wooden floor. "He-he, you don't know what he did! Mom, he is not a nice person."
"Sure I am, Cas." Dean argued, dipping a tea bag into a mug of hot water before pushing it towards Castiel. "I'm pretty much the nicest person you've ever met, plus you think I'm really handsome."
"I do not!"
"Uh, yea you do," the other man scoffed, rolling his eyes at Castiel's mom who was just smirking back and forth at the two of them like they were the cutest things in the world. "I'm in your head, Cas. You made me up, you put me here, and you think I have a great butt."
"If I made you up, well then I can make you leave," Cas said triumphantly, pointing a stern finger at the other man and shutting his eyes hard, willing Dean out of his head and out of his memory/dream with his mom.
"Isn't he cute when he does that?" his mom said, causing her son to open his eyes to see the older woman nudging Dean in the side. "He used to make that same scrunched up face when he played the piano. Oooh, wait I have pictures, don't go anywhere!"
His mom dashed away from the table, headscarf flapping around her shoulders as she raced out of the room much faster than a woman with stomach cancer could have realistically done if this wasn't a dream.
"Mom, no!" Castiel pleaded, giving Dean a dirty look before he picked up his chair and plopped back down in it, folding his arms on the table to bury his face there with a groan. "This isn't fair, this is my dream and you shouldn't be here."
"Then why am I here, Cas?" Dean asked and Castiel felt the lukewarm tea mug nudging at his fingertips, but didn't look up.
"Because you ruined my fucking day with your spiteful fucking joke and I was mad when I went to sleep."
"No, you weren't mad when you went to sleep," he heard the other man reply softly and even though he didn't want to, he peeked out of the space between his arms to see Dean staring at his half eaten pancakes with a miserable expression on his face. "You were sad, really sad, Cas. I'm sorry, really. I never meant to make you sad."
"Liar," Castiel muttered half-heartedly. "I really hate you, y'know?"
Dean smirked sadly, glancing up to meet his eyes in the small space where Castiel was peeking out. Only in a dream would he know exactly where to look. "No you don't, Cas. I'm in your head remember? You don't hate me at all. You lo—
"Rise and shine!" Ash yelled into his room, causing Castiel's eyes to fly open and for him to startle out of the puddle of drool that had formed on his study guide where he had fallen asleep on it.
He knew he had been dreaming, could remember a vague image of a green scarf and the taste of chocolate, but the rest was slipping away from him; like water carried in someone's cupped hands, the more careful you are not to lose any of it the faster it seems to disappear between the cracks and crevices of your fingers. There had been something about pictures, embarrassing ones?
Ones of him wearing one of Anna's dress up dresses and a plastic tiara as he played that tale as old as time teapot song from Beauty and the Beast for his sister so that she could practice her dancing, his face scrunched up in concentration while his mom had laughed and sung the words. He had probably been about eight, Anna four almost five in her tiny tiny tutu. Why had he been dreaming about that? His mom had been threatening to show those pictures to a girl if he ever brought one home, along with the one of him and Gabe and Mike all in the bathtub together; Gabe had been eating soap, Mike had looked thoroughly disgusted with the whole setup, and Castiel had probably been about two, newly adopted and inexplicably bald.
"Dude, Charlie's threatening to eat your food," Ash warned glancing down the hallway towards the rec room and frowning. "She says she wants waffles instead of cereal and apparently you're the only one of us in a wafflely mood."
"Charlie can go fuck herself," Castiel muttered, side-eyeing the way that Ash frowned in confusion at his pronouncement. "I'm done with her, Ash. Becky and Dean too, I just want to be left alone from now on so you can tell them all to just stop trying to 'help' me."
"Well shit," the other patient exclaimed, throwing his arms out to his sides in frustration and taking a step into Castiel's room. "I know I was fucking out of it for most of the day yesterday, my fault I realize that, but what did I miss? I thought things with you and Dean were good, he was going to ask you on a date or something."
"So you knew about all of this?" he asked angrily, closing the drawer on his dresser that he had opened to look for some new clothes to wear with a little more force than was strictly necessary.
"Unless you're breakfast," Rufus snapped, sitting up suddenly in his bed with an agitated growl at the two younger men. "And you're not because neither one of you fucktards look like a bowl of grits to me, then take your little heart to heart out of here. Go on now! Jesus, I miss when my roommate was a psychopath, at least Alastair was quiet."
Ash waved Castiel out of the room, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt that he had been wearing since meeting Dean the night before once he got close enough and dragging him down the hall towards the nurse's station.
"Cas, I knew he was going to ask you to meet him and he was all nervous about it. Asked for my advice about it, y'know since I'm so good with the ladies and stuff and Charlie has like worse anxiety about that that shit than he does. Plus Becky's advice when it comes to that sort of thing is utter crap, girl thinks a person doesn't really like you unless you go down on them or whatever. Now, I like a blow job, Cas, a much as the next guy, but that girl's mouth has been in places I don't even want to think about. Unholy places."
Castiel put up his hand to stop Ash, apparently spending most of the day before zonked out of his mind had left the other patient full of energy because he was talking almost too fast to understand, but Cas got the just of it. Ash had been part of the whole joke that Dean and Charlie had played on him, maybe unknowingly because Ash was always a bit spaced out anyway, but he had been pulled into all of this too and now just looking at him was making Cas want to cry again.
"That's enough," he said, tugging on the front of his shirt to try to straighten out the even more wrinkles that he had put into it by sleeping in it. "I think I get it. I'm sorry they dragged you into this, Ash, but its done. I'm not here to make friends, I'm here because...well, I'm here and I need to work on getting out and getting my life back together. I don't have time for all of the silly fucking games they like to play with people's feelings, so if you'll tell Charlie and Dean and Becky that I want them to leave me alone, I'd really appreciate it."
"Dude, are you serious?" Ash asked, fidgeting with the Velcro on his leather motorcycle gloves agitatedly. "I didn't think you would be like this. I thought that Dean would y'know...that you would get him. We all kind of did."
"Oh I get him alright," Castiel sighed, ignoring the prickling behind his eyes when the thought passed through his head that maybe part of the problem was that he had been hoping that Dean would get him too, because it kind of had already felt like the man understood the things he was always trying to say, but couldn't get across in a language that anyone else spoke. He had thought that Dean spoke his language; like Anna spoke their secret, made up language when they were kids. "I understand exactly what kind of person Dean is now and I'm tired of being made fun of all the time by people like him so just tell him for me okay?"
"Cas, I really think you should talk to him," Ash objected, following him when he started towards the cafeteria. All he had eaten yesterday was a breakfast burrito and a burger and the most thoughtful pie he had ever had ever, so he was pretty ready for waffles if that's what was waiting for him. "Talk to Charlie at least, bro. She's better at like, words and stuff than I am. You shouldn't stop being his friend, it would just...be bad. Fuck, talk to Charlie!"
"If I talk to her will you mellow the hell out?" Castiel asked, stopping in the doorway of the cafeteria when Jo paused in her passing out of cafeteria trays to give him a strange look.
He glanced nervously around the room to see Charlie already sitting at a table with Becky, the two girls perking up in their seats when they noticed him and Ash and waving at the two of them eagerly. No Dean, just like yesterday morning, so maybe he was with Missouri again. Maybe it would give him a chance to tell Charlie that he knew about her whole unfunny, twisted joke before he went to sit at the same table with Pam who was all alone across the cafeteria. The older woman seemed to like talking to herself more than anyone else so he could probably get away with not looking like a jerk if he didn't speak to her.
"I just need my meds, dude." Ash drawled cracking his knuckles and moving towards their usual table. "Yesterday fucked me up, no more giving pills away, I don't care how hot Ruby is."
Castiel reluctantly followed behind Ash, taking his usual seat across from Charlie and accepting his tray from Jo when she offered it to him over his shoulder. The redhead was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, smiling at him widely and looking confusedly at the clothes that he was wearing for a second before shrugging.
"So?" she asked, like it was nothing. Like he shouldn't care that she had completely taken advantage of his confusing feelings about Dean and made him into the butt of her joke.
"So, what?" Cas snapped, he could feel himself shaking. From anger at her pretending like nothing was wrong and looking so happy or from the nervousness he felt about confronting her he wasn't exactly sure, probably both.
He didn't handle confrontation very well, that's why he had always been content to hide behind Gabe and his brother's friends when someone had tried to pick on him. Maybe it was why he was so sickeningly sad about all of this, because it was so familiar and so routine that he was surprised that he had let himself be sucked into another prank. In high school, during the two years that spanned between Gabriel graduating and Castiel leaving the crumbling old brick public school too, the pranks and jokes and teasing had been endless.
The only thing that had helped him through it then was the crappy little garage band he played the keyboard in, but his senior year he had become so obsessed with the SAT that even that had stopped being an outlet when his friend's replaced him with someone who could actually make it to practices. And by the middle of freshman year in college, the instrument had become more of a place to hang clothes than anything that he could use to express the anger and loneliness he felt almost constantly when another person recognized him for being Carver Edlund's son or Gabriel and Michael Shurley's little brother. In a couple more years, he would be in the middle of his older brothers and Anna, squashed into nothingness by his own mediocrity for the rest of his life and he didn't think that he deserved to be punished any more by other people than life was already punishing him.
"Sooooo how did last night go?" Charlie asked rolling her eyes exaggeratedly and stabbing viciously at her bowl of Cheerios.
"I'm sure you already know," he replied emotionlessly, the only way he would get through this would be by forcing himself to be numb. Even though his chest was already aching from just thinking about Dean and he was already sweating because this was really the last thing he wanted to be talking about.
"Okay, yea." The girl agreed, smiling at him widely. "I know Dean's side of it, but I want to hear your side. Quick before he gets back and we have to deal with you two eye fucking all over the table in front of us."
Castiel winced, immediately hating himself even more for doing so. "There won't be any eye fucking Charlie and I'm going to switch tables before Dean gets here. I don't want be around you or him anymore."
"What? Why?" Charlie asked, dropping her spoon into her bowl with a loud clattering sound as she frowned worriedly at him. "Did you change your mind? What happened?"
"I just don't think it's funny to play with another person's feelings, Charlie." Castiel explained trying to be as calm as he possibly could, even though his hands were shaking when he went to pick up his tray so that he could get away from the girl before he burst into tears or fainted or threw up everywhere. "And what you and Dean did to me...it was wrong. I was ready...fuck it you wouldn't understand, Charlie."
"Jesus Christ, Cas. Try me," Charlie pleaded, slapping her hand down on the edge of his tray so that he couldn't pick it up unless he fought against her and dammnit, were all girls this strong? "I mean I know you liked that girl, but really?"
"Charlie, I've only ever liked girls okay?" Castiel forced out through gritted teeth, glancing over to see Becky and Ash trying very desperately to seem like they weren't eavesdropping even though they obviously were. He lowered his voice anyway, "Except for Dean...you just, fuck. You don't know what it's like to meet someone who makes you wish that you were braver. But it was all a joke and you took that part of me that wanted to be brave and made me feel like shit. I should be used to it by now, but I thought since this was a hospital maybe people would understand. Turns out being crazy does not mean you are above being a jerk, now I'd like for you to leave me alone. You and Dean, just leave me alone."
"What was a joke, Cas?!" Charlie exclaimed, grabbing onto his tray harder when he stood up and tried to pull it out of her hand. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit," he said, abandoning his tray even though he was hungry because the other girl was starting to make a scene and his face was already burning hot enough with embarrassment as it was. Cas needed to leave before Dean got here to see him so upset, he would cry; there wouldn't be any way of getting around it if the other man was there to witness his humiliation. "All of it was a joke; the drawings, the meeting, Dean liking me. I know it was Charlie, so just stop lying already."
Cas spun on his heel and started towards the hallway, intending to shut himself into the nearest room he found that had a lock so that he could really and truly be alone. So far none of the doors had locks, but maybe there was a panic room or something where Jo and Garth would make sure no one bothered him, somewhere where he could break down in peace without it being a spectacle for the rest of the patients.
"No, Cas!" Charlie called, rushing behind him and catching his arm roughly, so much rougher than when she had been asking the night before if he was still meeting Dean. When he faced her, her eyes were full of confusion and concern and so much sincerity that he stopped in front of the cafeteria doors, panting from his unspent emotions because he hadn't been running, that would've just attracted even more attention to himself. "None of it was a joke. I promise, Dean does like you. I'm not lying."
"How can I believe you, Charlie?" he asked, cursing himself for the hope that laced his voice. God, this second time was going to hurt worse than the first, he would die from it for sure, so why was he even grabbing desperately onto the small spark of trust that he still held for the other girl. "I mean, look at him and look at me. Why would he ever like me?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging slightly before grabbing onto his arm harder when he tried to walk away again. He had known she was fucking with him. "I mean, I don't know because I don't do the whole liking guys thing. You're nice, but you're nice to me in a friend way. To Dean...you're nice in a different way, we can all see it. And he likes you, Cas, I promise. He like-likes you."
What is this, the fifth grade?
"Prove it." He said tersely.
"What do you want me to do? Kiss you on his behalf? I don't have any proof, Cas. Dean is super duper gay, if you had come to LGBTQ yesterday then you would've seen him there. I don't know what else I can do," She explained desperately.
"I didn't go because I'm not gay, Charlie." Castiel said defensively, shaking his head more at himself than Charlie because if he liked Dean and his heart was speeding up at the thought of Dean maybe, potentially liking him for real then what did that make him? "And what about the drawings? Missouri has one in her office signed M.W. Last time I checked it's pretty hard to confuse an M with a D."
"Okay, that." Charlie started, pointing at him knowingly before her face fell again and she dropped her hand back down to her side. "That I can't explain, but he did do the drawing of the tea cup and the glasses for you, because of you. Wait, hold on. Don't fucking move, Cas."
She ran down the hallway towards her room and Castiel followed her, mostly because he could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria boring into the back of his head and it was making him queasy. This was so much more public than he had wanted it to be, but what if? What if Dean really did like him and this wasn't all a joke? What was he going to do about how he felt about Dean?
Castiel stopped outside of Dean and Charlie's bedroom door, leaning on the wall next to it and staring at the phone. If Meg called him now, what would he do? What if she told him she loved him too? Did it make him a bad person for wanting to try with Dean, even if it was only while he was in here and he had to go back to his real life once he left? No one would ever have to know and then Cas would finally know, could get this whole thing out of his system so that he could maybe have a normal relationship.
He could hear muffled voices coming from around the corner in the direction of the rec room, but he was too lost in thought, concerned with whatever it was that Charlie might show him to bother with investigating it. It was probably someone playing a video game already, something violent if the noises that sounded like shouting were anything to go by, probably Dick and Crowley since he hadn't seen them yet this morning.
"Here," Charlie said breathlessly, appearing in the doorway with a sketchbook, the one that Lisa had pressed into Dean's hands that first day that the other man had been so excited about seeing her. Castiel couldn't believe that he had forgotten about that. "But don't tell him I showed you this, he would kill me."
Cas nodded and took the sketchbook carefully, opening it to a random page near the front to find a roughly sketched picture of Charlie's Tolkein book laid open face down on the page. The greatest detail was on the cover where a mountain range was drawn; it looked a lot like the drawings that he had gotten, done in pencil like both the mug and the glasses had been. And it wasn't signed either so it was ambiguous too who had done it.
He flipped farther into the book and found an even rougher sketch of a face, but fucking fuck there wasn't any mistaking it. Not with that hair that had been added in random dark, spiky points on top of the mostly blank oval that made up the face. The only thing that was on it was a pair of lips, ones that were so familiar that just looking at them had Castiel touching his own to make sure that Dean had gotten the overexaggerated dip in his top one that he had always thought made him look entirely unkissable just right. Which he had, along with the subtle stubble shaded down and around the jaw.
"Lisa told him to draw something that inspires him," Charlie explained beside him. "And since you got here, that's been stuff involving you."
"Jesus," Castiel whispered, jumping when a man came barreling around the corner from the rec room toward him.
He slapped the sketchbook shut and hurriedly shoved it back into Charlie's hands when Dean came racing around the corner too, wearing Castiel's sweater over a soft looking light grey shirt that had buttons at the throat. The other man stopped short when he saw Castiel, but was promptly bumped into from behind by another person; a tall, gangly looking boy wearing a red polo shirt and khakis who had longish, shaggy brown hair and a look of complete disappointment on his face.
"Move Dean!" The boy said, nudging at Dean until he startled out of his stupor and continued to chase after the gruff looking older man. "Stop, dad. Come back here and talk to him!"
"Fine, Sam." The man said turning around unexpectedly right as Dean caught up to him and stepping close to the other patient to jab a hard finger into Dean's chest. "Dean, you want to know what I think of your progress? Did Missouri tell you that's what this was? Be realistic, it's called a relapse and as long as you can't keep it together you aren't coming around your brother anymore."
"Dad, I can keep it together." Dean objected, stepping back and rubbing at the spot on his chest that the older man had been poking him. "It's better this time, I've got incentive and there's no one here this time wh—"
"It's always someone else's fault, Dean." Dean's dad said, cutting off his son brusquely with a wave of his hand towards the younger boy. "You can't take responsibility for why this is your fault. Shit happens to everyone and you don't see me or Sam trying to kill ourselves all the time."
"But dad, I saw Aza—" the other patient started again, rubbing at his arms through Castiel's sweater.
"Don't say his name, those are you rules, Dean. You make the rest of us walk around on eggshells, always worrying if one of us is going to accidentally trigger you," he spat the word at his son and Castiel winced sympathetically, stopping Charlie who had appeared at her bedroom door next to him and looked about ready to kill someone. "Well, next time you feel like you want to die how about you do us all a favor and finish the fucking job? Instead of half-assing it like everything else you do, come on Sam."
Castiel was horror struck, watching as the boy who must be Dean's younger brother stood by while their father walked away. Sam breathed hard through his nose, shaking his head disgustedly at the older man's back before turning and pulling the other boy in for a tight hug. He patted Dean on the back a couple of times before moving back and shaking his brother lightly by the shoulders, saying something that Cas couldn't hear before trailing miserably after his father, down the hallway and out of sight around the corner.
Dean stepped back towards the wall of the hallway, stumbling into it with a pained sounding whimper that had Castiel moving before he realized that he wasn't holding onto Charlie anymore, but was walking towards the other man and wrapping his arms around him; pressing Dean back against the wall because the patient was sagging like his knees were about to give out underneath him and Cas knew that he wouldn't be able to hold Dean up on his own. It was the crying that did it, broke Cas's heart all over again when he felt Dean shaking with silent tears as he buried his face into his neck and clutched at his back.
"I told him I don't want to die anymore, Cas." Dean sobbed against his skin and Castiel nodded into Dean's hair, he understood he really really did.
He didn't want to die anymore either.
Author Note: Less angst? Did any of this make anything better? No? I thought so, keep breathing. I'm off tomorrow so *fingers crossed* I'll get a bunch of stuff done. Hang in there babes.