Castiel called in sick for work the next day.
Then the next. And the next.
Jo called and called and sent dozens of messages, but Castiel didn't reply to any of them, switching his form of communication to Ellen in order to inform her that he got the flu. She gave him the rest of the break off, wishing him well and telling him to call her when he was better. Castiel agreed he would, feeling awful for lying but deciding that it wasn't as awful of a feeling as what he currently had thrashing about within his mental state. So he went along with the lie.
In reality, though, Castiel was holed up in his room, debating on whether or not he should call Dean and apologize and beg him to not be mad. Winter break had been extended due to a freak blizzard that had caused a power outage at the school, and Castiel secretly couldn't have been more grateful. He didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to face anybody. He didn't want to leave the shelter his bed provided for him.
Why had he kissed Dean? Why the hell did he have to go and ruin the one good thing he had going on? Why did he have to do something so stupid?
Castiel drove himself insane, laying in bed day after day. He only got up when he had to shower and to eat when he felt hunger pains begin. Other than that, Castiel stayed in one spot. Every day Castiel would send Dean a text. He'd keep it short, saying sorry and that he didn't mean to upset him.
And every day he would get messages from Jo and Meg, both the girls checking up on him. He couldn't bring himself to answer them, though. It just seemed so pointless. Everything seemed pointless.
Meg seemed to be apologizing, from what Castiel could comprehend as he read her messages with his numb mind. He couldn't get himself to focus on what she was apologizing for. His thoughts were elsewhere- crashing and throwing themselves fiercely at the barriers of his mind. Castiel wouldn't be able to talk to anybody. Not yet, at least. He really only wanted to see one name light up his phone.
Adam texted Castiel a few times, asking him if he wanted to join Jo and him for a movie night or go bowling with them another night. Castiel was happy for his friends, but he didn't feel much like being the third wheel for their dates, and declined politely, telling him he still wasn't feeling well. He kept the text short and didn't leave much room for Adam to argue. Castiel was surprised he could even bring himself to respond.
Adam seemed concerned, asking if Castiel wanted him to come by and check up on him or bring him anything. Castiel declined again, insisting that he'd be alright. He knew that Adam could sense Jo's worry. Jo would never talk about what happened at the diner with anybody, Castiel was sure of it. Adam must have just picked up on the suspicious situation, because he texted Castiel almost daily just to catch up with him. And Castiel would respond to some texts half-heartedly. He owed his friends at least that.
It didn't last long, though, and soon Adam's texts grew lesser until they ceased.
Castiel didn't even cut on the first two days. He was too numb to care about giving himself the gratitude of feeling. On the third day, though, Castiel gave in, more out of habit rather than want. He brought the razor underneath the cold stream of the shower. He set the water to ice cold, wanting to feel something colder than the hand that grasped at his heart. Once in the safety of the water, he proceeded to make three long cuts- one for each day he went without seeing Dean. He watched the blood trickle down his arm and pool at his feet almost dismissively, as if it weren't his own body he was cutting up. As though he were casually observing somebody else.
It didn't help, though. It didn't give him the distraction he needed. At this point, it seemed as if nothing would.
On the sixth day, Castiel answered the phone when Meg called. It was eleven o'clock. His room was dark and he couldn't bother to switch on any lights. When Meg called, Castiel greedily answered. He craved a friendly, familiar voice. He craved it more than he craved Dean.
"Hello?" Castiel spoke. His own voice startled him- gravelly and hushed and so very foreign from lack of use.
"Castiel?" the girl's voice inquired. "Jesus Christ, where the hell have you been? Why haven't you been answering? I've been so fucking worried, I-"
"I'm fine, Meg," Cas interrupted, but the weakness of his voice betrayed him, cracking at the end. The next thing Castiel knew, tears were running down his face. He was shocked with his body's reaction, lifting a hand up to his dampened cheeks and pulling away to see his fingers wet with tears. Before he knew it, he suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, his heart heavy in his chest at the feeling of anxiety.
Meg was silent. "What happened?" she asked, voice hushed.
Castiel choked back a sob, now. All the emotions that he had suppressed underneath his numb veil were leaking out, making themselves known with a powerful bang. "I messed up," Castiel whispered, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. He grabbed onto the blankets with his free hand, trying to find an anchor of some sort to keep him from drowning in the sudden downpour of emotions that now washed away his numb state.
"Cas… darling, tell me what's wrong," Meg urged him. Her voice sounded caring and warm- something he wasn't used to hearing. He choked back a sob, throat tightening at the warmth of her voice. He just wanted to be warm and safe.
"God- Meg, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry- I," Castiel blabbered out, crying freely, now. He felt sicker than he had felt in days. His heart was throbbing and all he could think about was how much he needed Dean. "I love him, Meg. God, I love him so much. I'm sorry- so sorry," Castiel sobbed, clutching an arm around himself as he bent over in his spot on his bed, shoulders shaking and eyes leaking horrible tears that he couldn't hold back.
She was silent, again. "Dean," she said, more as a statement rather than a question.
Castiel let out a sort of choked out sound at the name. "I'm sorry," he whispered desperately, feeling absolutely horrible. He wanted to apologize to her. Castiel didn't deserve her- she should yell at him and tell him how worthless and pathetic he was. He was terrible, this was all his fault, he should have never-
"I knew," Meg told him, not sounding the least bit shocked.
Castiel's eyebrows furrowed as he sat up straighter. The tears wouldn't stop falling- blurring his vision as he tried to postpone them. "What?" he asked, voice shaking inevitably.
"I knew you loved him," she admitted. "But, I… I don't know, I really like you, too. I'm not trying to- I didn't mean to make this complicated, okay? I just… Cas, you need to go for what will make you happy. You need to let yourself have whoever you want, damn the consequences."
Castiel wiped his hands over his eyes- a useless task, because more tears fell anyway. "He hates me, Meg," Castiel whispered.
"I doubt that, Clarence," the voice assured, a trace of bitter humor lacing it. It was silent as Castiel tried to calm his breathing and stop the flow of tears so he could compose himself for just a long enough amount of time to talk to Meg.
"I don't know what to do," Castiel admitted, his voice weak and his eyes burning. "I have no clue."
"Well, first off, try," was all Meg said to that. "Be safe, alright? I'll see you soon."
Then she hung up, and Castiel was left feeling worse than before.
Dean went about his business like normal. He figured that if he returned to his routine and tried to pretend that Cas was never a part of it, things would get better.
The thing was, though… Cas was the biggest part of Dean's routine.
When Dean would head out of the house and go to work, he'd unconsciously start driving to Castiel's house to take him to the diner. He had to stop himself when he got to Cas's neighborhood, realizing with a sickening punch to his gut that Castiel was no longer a part of his life.
He'd think about Castiel all throughout work, thinking about the feel of his fingers on his cheeks and his chapped lips moistening with their kissing. He'd think about Castiel's smell and stupid blue button-up and his goddamned sex hair. Dean would daydream about the way Castiel's blue eyes seemed to glow whenever they landed on Dean, the adorable crow's feet outlining his eyes making him look all the more lovable. His vision of Castiel's eyes was sharply stripped away, though, when he thought about the look of pain and fright that had enveloped them when Dean had roughly shoved him away.
That hurt too much to think about.
He found himself having to turn his phone off, most days, in fear of reading the messages Castiel would send and going through a horrible-guilty freak out. He couldn't read them. He couldn't face Castiel. He couldn't hear Cas blame himself and apologize when Dean knew full well it was nobody's fault but his own. He just wasn't ready to talk about his feelings and open up such a big part of himself to Castiel.
Dean had never been in love, before. He swore to himself that he never would. He didn't want to end up like his dad- losing the one he loved and living off of rage and alcohol. Dean would never be able to love somebody, because he simply wasn't strong enough to go through the pain of losing them.
He missed his mother.
Dean never told Sammy this, but he still had dreams about the day she died. He remembered the night he heard the news. He remembered not understanding why somebody would ever kill someone as kind as Mary. He remembered the seething hate and pain that filled his father's eyes for months as he tried to recover his mental wounds, drinking night after night- almost losing his job. And he remembered all too clearly the many times they moved as John worked at finding Mary's killer. He remembered the training he put Dean through- all those self-defense classes that Dean attended in order to protect Sam and himself. He remembered asking his father why they had to move so much, and getting reprimanded and punished for "being so selfish".
It was when Dean was thirteen and living with Sam in a cheap motel as their father worked investigations that he decided he'd never love anybody. He didn't want to become the man his father turned out to be- ignoring loved ones he had in pursuit of avenging the one he lost.
Love was not for Dean Winchester. It never would be.
Dean was growing too close to Cas. He was overwhelmed with all the feelings that he had never felt before. Cas meant too much to Dean- he had become too big of a part of Dean's life. This wasn't safe. This wasn't what Dean had planned. This wasn't what he had promised himself all those years ago.
And that was why Dean was so afraid. That was why he ignored Castiel, hanging out with Sammy during the remainder of the break and almost following around the younger Winchester like a lost puppy. This continued until his little brother got sick of him, telling Dean to "go hang out with Cas or something". He didn't do that, though, and instead hung out with Ash and Chuck a couple of times, going to an arcade one night and then drinking at Chuck's house the next.
On the sixth day, Chuck and Ash wanted to visit Ellen's diner. Dean had agreed hesitantly, only wanting to go in order not to raise any suspicions. He knew Jo would be there- it was a Tuesday and the only days she didn't work were Wednesdays. Jo had texted him the day they caught Cas and Meg making out. She asked him not to get mad, sending what appeared to be hundreds of texts telling him not to yell at or get upset with Cas.
Dean wished he had read those, before.
So he sat in anxiety in the backseat of Ash's truck, gazing out the window as the diner pulled into his line of vision. It was late- about ten thirty, and the diner would be closing, soon. The group of teens walked into the restaurant, Ash waving a hello to Jo, who greeted him with a dramatic sigh and a smile, asking him why he always ate here and when he'd finally be sick of their food. Ash defended himself by stating that nowhere else granted him a twenty five percent discount.
So with a playful eye roll, Jo began to lead them to the table, then froze when she saw Dean lingering behind.
"Dean," she breathed out, startled. Dean spoke to her with his eyes, silently begging her to wait until later for them to talk. She seemed to understand, because her lips set into a line before she nodded once and led the boys to their table.
A while after they had settled down and made their orders, Jo signaled Dean to follow her to the bar counter. Dean felt a sickening churn in his stomach at the thought of returning anywhere near the back room, but he obliged, getting up and trailing behind the blond.
When they were out of earshot of the others, Jo spoke.
"What the hell happened?" she asked, eyes enraged and hands on her hips. "Why the fuck haven't you or Cas been answering me?"
Dean sighed. "I don't know why Cas hasn't. But I've been busy, Jo. I'm sorry," he lied. It physically hurt him to speak Castiel's name, and he hoped that didn't show.
Jo looked angrier. "Bull. Cas called in sick, he hasn't been to work in six days," Jo informed Dean, eyes accusing. "Now don't tell me that hasn't got anything to do with you."
Dean felt his heart squeeze. Castiel hadn't been to work. He hadn't been answering Jo's messages. He called in saying he was sick. And it was all Dean's fault.
A strong part of Dean worried about his friend, almost forcing him to drive over there right this second in Ash's truck and check on Cas, himself. He felt a surge of protection envelop him, the need to guard Castiel burning in the pit of his stomach.
That was until Dean realized that he was the one Castiel needed protection from.
And that thought just made his need to vomit increase.
Nevertheless, Dean looked into Jo's eyes blankly as he composed himself.
"It hasn't got anything to do with me," he uttered.
And now there was no going back.
When Castiel heard his father leave the house, he got off his bed and went to his closet, slipping on some jeans and a jacket over his t-shirt. Distraction. He needed a better distraction. And Castiel knew just what to do.
He pulled on some shoes and walked down the stairs to the kitchen, double checking around him to make sure his father was definitely gone. The house was dark and quiet, and Castiel flicked on a few lights as he walked into the kitchen, searching through the cabinets for-
Ah. There it was.
A feeling of relief pooling in his stomach, Castiel brought out the bottle of whiskey, a little more than half full from his father's previous uses. He opened it and took a whiff before inspecting the golden brown liquid, again. Castiel had never tried whiskey- the strongest liquor he had was vodka at Charlie's party, and even that was dulled down with juice. Would he be able to handle such a harsh drink all by itself?
In all honesty, Castiel found that he didn't care. He took a deep breath and downed a hesitant sip. It went down smooth enough (the bottle was not a cheaper brand), only leaving a burning sensation in Castiel's throat that he seemed to almost enjoy. It erased the coldness from within him, the heat that the liquid provided pooling in his stomach, now. The flavor was smoky- almost earthy in its taste. Castiel didn't like it much, but after a couple more sips he found that he had already grown addicted to the warmth that flooded his veins. His body ached as he downed sip after sip, and after a few minutes in the kitchen, Castiel began to feel light and giggly and so much better.
A smile found its way to Castiel's lips as he leaned heavily against the counter, his mind turning into a foggy mess after he'd lost count of how many "sips" he'd taken. Shaky fingers squeezed onto the neck of the cool bottle, and Castiel let out an exhale, licking his lips before steadying himself on his feet. Suddenly, the house seemed too lonely. Castiel ached to be anywhere but in his painful and sad home. He wanted to be with people- wanted to drink with his friends and just laugh and have fun like he had on New Years. He wanted everything to be normal, again. Castiel just wanted to be okay.
His mind suddenly made up, the blue-eyed boy stumbled out the front door, one hand fumbling with the doorknob while the other held on pathetically to the bottle of whiskey. The night was dark and cold and almost seemed to suck Castiel in, welcoming him like an old friend.
This was the distraction he needed.
Castiel drank from the bottle held in his hand as he made his way down a street he didn't recognize. The roads were dark- occasionally lit by a dim streetlight or two. He could feel the need to cry slowly slip away bit by bit after every swig of whiskey. His stomach churned and burned and ached with protest against the harsh liquor, but Castiel ignored it.
He liked the feeling, if he ignored the fact that it made him sick. Besides that, it was the warmth that Castiel had been lacking. And that heat was something Castiel had dreamed of for days. It was too good to relinquish- too comfortable to disregard. So Castiel ignored his intuition, and drank.
The snow crunched underneath Castiel's feet- soaking through the soles of his worn-out sneakers and wetting the material as it began to seep through his socks, as well. Castiel's throat burned from the whiskey, but his breath came out in white puffs in the chilled air that summoned goosebumps on his skin.
The liquid scorched at Castiel's throat and tongue as he took another sip, smiling at the heat pooling and trickling through the inside of his stomach. The original irritated feeling Castiel first felt at the sensation soon replaced itself with a feeling of comfort.
This is why Raphael likes drinking so much, Castiel thought to himself. He tipped his head back and downed some more, thoughts of his father flooding his mind as he did so. He wasn't going to be happy that Castiel took his drink, but the teen found that he couldn't care less. Let his father beat him up- what was the point, anyways? It's not like Castiel had anything to care about anymore. He screwed it all up.
He ruined his relationship with Meg. He hurt her, and she'd never talk to him again. He kissed his best friend and scared him away. Lastly, he ignored his other friends and probably led them to believing that he hated them. Castiel fucked it all up.
He always fucked it all up.
Castiel's thoughts went fuzzy, and he began to lose the ability to control his own body as he stumbled clumsily- not sure what he was trying to find. The lack of control frightened the teen, at first, but after a few more gulps the comfort returned and Castiel was once again reassured. It actually felt quite nice not having to control his body and thoughts and handing over all the work and stresses to the alcohol. Castiel soon began to trust the holy-like liquid in his precious bottle more than he would trust his closest friend-
Oh. Dean. That's why Castiel was doing this.
Feeling nauseous, Castiel drank the thought away, drowning everything he deemed to be uncomfortable in the harsh liquor.
It felt nice.
Jo was sitting in the living room having a movie night with her mother when her phone rang. The insistent quacking ring tone startled them both, and Jo suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Ash had set up that ringtone as a prank back in sophomore year. Jo didn't ever bother to change it.
Who is calling me this late? the blonde wondered as she pulled out her cellphone from her jacket pocket. Jo's mother was probably wondering the same thing, given the eyebrow-raised look she directed towards her daughter. It was twelve in the morning. It must be something important.
And Jo's heart nearly stopped when she saw the photo of her and Cas making cross-eyed faces in a photo they had taken light up her phone. The caller ID: "Cas" displayed itself over the ridiculous picture, presenting itself to her.
Jo stared dumbfounded at her phone before jumping out of her seat, pardoning herself as she left the living room. When she was out of hearing range of the living room, Jo answered, silencing the quacking ringtone.
"Hello? Cas? What's the matter? Is everything okay?" Jo asked, confused and worried.
"Jo? Jo's that you? Where're you? How come I can hear you?" Cas's slurred, deep voice asked. It sounded as if he had just woken up from an uncomfortable sleep.
Before Jo could answer, Castiel began laughing in an off-putting fashion. "Oh, I'm on the phone! Jo, why're you calling me? You should be in bed, young lady. We've got school on Monday," Castiel told her, giggling before he sighed heavily. Jo's eyes widened in realization.
"Cas, you called me," Jo sputtered. She didn't want to ask the question. She didn't want to believe what was happening. "Is everything-" Jo was cut off by Castiel's laughing. "Cas, are- are you drunk?" Jo asked in an incredulous whisper so her mother couldn't hear. There was no way Castiel would be able to keep his job if Ellen found out he'd been drinking instead of working. Not even Ellen's intense fondness over Castiel could prevent him from getting fired. And Jo knew that was the last thing the dark-haired teen needed.
"Fuck, yeah I am- Jo, come and drink with me! It's so great- but a bit lonely, right now, so you should c'mere," Castiel ranted.
"Cas-," Jo hissed.
"Why're you whisperin', Jo?" Castiel suddenly noticed, whispering, as well. "Is An-Andy-Adam there? Hello-oo, Adam!" Castiel hollered before a noise that sounded like fumbling sounded on the other line, followed by muffled cursing and then laughing.
"Castiel," Jo exclaimed harshly, now. "Why are you drunk?" she asked, heart racing in her chest as she put a hand on her forehead, pacing in the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"
Castiel didn't answer her, though.
"Aw… shit," he exclaimed.
"What?" Jo asked, scared. Castiel had sounded really shocked. "What happened?"
Castiel was silent.
"Cas," Jo began.
"Jo! I ran outta whiskey," Castiel suddenly exclaimed, the sound of glass breaking following soon after. "I finished the bottle, Jo. M'sorry," Castiel apologized. "'Tried to leave some fr'ya, I promise," Castiel slurred. "I don't remember drinking it all, thought I left some fr'ya."
"Wait, Cas, you drank a whole bottle of whiskey?" Jo asked, frightened out of her wits. Shit, if Cas drank the whole bottle he could-
"Don't be silly, there was only-like- half," Castiel replied, voice gravelly and grouchy sounding. He suddenly giggled. "Quit your worrying, Jo-Bo." Suddenly, a sound of a car passing by filled the line.
"Shit, are you outside?" Jo asked, already making her way to her door where she lingered, wanting to leave but not wanting to raise any suspicions with her mother.
But Castiel was in danger. Surely it was worth the risk?
"Yeah, m'outside. Not sure where… I just kept walkin' and walkin'- I don't feel too good, Jo. Feelin' kinda shitty- but I guess it's my fault-"
"What are you talking about?" Jo asked, heart pounding with worry and her build-up of anxiety.
Suddenly, Castiel chuckled. "Oh, y'don't know. Y'don't know, cuz he didn't tell you, because I did somethin' really stupid. I fucked up real bad," Castiel drawled on, his voice now seeming completely wrecked and sad. Jo's heart clenched.
"Castiel… tell me what happened," Jo ordered. "Please," she added, just for good measure.
Castiel was silent for a moment before he laughed. "I kissed Dean," Castiel murmured, letting out a deep breath before he chuckled humorlessly. "I kissed him 'n he said he's not a fag- told me t'stay away from him," Castiel explained, his voice breaking at the last syllable. Jo tried not to cry, herself.
She didn't know what to say, her mouth agape with the news. She was shocked and angry and confused and she just didn't know what to say. "Cas…."
"S'my fault, Jo. Fucked up. I fucked up real bad," Castiel spoke before letting out what sounded like a choked sob. "Shit, that's not supposed to happen. Not supposed to cry- not supposed to feel. Need more whiskey," Castiel murmured. Jo only barely picked up his words, and she found that her eyes were beginning to prickle with tears at her friend's broken voice.
"Cas, where are you? Let me come and get you, you can spend the night here," Jo told him.
Another sound of a car driving filled the phone. "Don't know where I am," Castiel slurred. "There's some-"
The call ended, and Jo looked at her phone incredulously. The red letters of "Call Dropped" blinked before the phone returned to the home screen. Frantic, Jo tried dialing Castiel, again.
The call didn't go through- leading straight to voicemail.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Jo murmured, freaking out now as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. She couldn't leave the house without worrying her mother. But Castiel needed her help- he'd get himself killed, the dumb fucking bastard. She could wait until her mother went to bed, but that'd take hours since they were watching a movie. She could just tell her mom, but then Castiel would get fired and Jo would probably not be allowed to hang out with him, again.
She could call Ash and ask him to pick Cas up, but then Ash would find out about Cas and Dean. And she couldn't ask Adam. He would find out about it all, too, since Cas would no doubt blurt it out in his drunken state. Second, it would break his curfew rule and he'd get his new car taken away.
Jo was running low on options. She realized that now as she scrolled through her contacts, mumbling "please be awake please be awake" as she pressed the button for Dean's number.
He didn't answer the first time. On the second try (with Jo whispering curses and murmuring "pick up the phone you goddamn ass"), Dean picked up on the third humming ring.
"Jo? What's-"
"Dean. It's Cas- he's in trouble, I don't know where he is but he called me and he was drunk and I can't leave the house to look for him because my mom will find out he's been drinking and I couldn't go out to look for him because my mom is still awake and I couldn't ask Adam or Ash be-"
"Jo, calm down," Dean instructed, the sound of footsteps coming from his side of the line. "Do you know where he could be? Did he describe it?" Dean asked, the sound of a zipper making Jo calm slightly. Good. Dean was up and he was listening.
"No. H-he didn't tell me where. His phone died, I think. I can't get a hold of him. I-uh, I heard cars driving past him. Only a few, but still. He couldn't have wandered off too far from his house, but I think he might have gotten out of his neighborhood," Jo informed her friend all in a ramble.
"It's okay, Jo. It's okay," Dean spoke, although he sounded worried, as well. "I'm gonna look for him, okay? Don't tell Ellen- just stay home. I'm heading out now," Dean told her, the sound of the Impala door shutting and the engine starting up confirming that fact.
Jo didn't know what to say. She was pushing back tears so that her mother wouldn't ask questions. "Dean," she whispered. Her throat was tight and her voice was strained.
"I'll find him, Jo. I promise I will."
Jo bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she tried to calm the aching pounding in her heart. "You'd better damn call me when you do or I swear I'll kick your ass, Dean," Jo warned him instead of thanking him. She was furious with him. This was technically Dean's fault, according to Cas. Dean had gone off at Cas after he had kissed him. Castiel had finally showed Dean that he liked him, and the bastard had tossed him out and treated him like shit.
Jo was fucking pissed. But she'd have to deal with Dean, later. Right now Castiel needed help.
"I will," Dean assured. "I gotta go, Jo. I'll talk to you, later- I promise," Dean spoke before he hung up.
And Jo retreated to the living room, ignoring her mother's questioning gaze and trying to pay attention to the movie flickering on the screen, her frantic mind preoccupied with thought of Castiel, hoping to God that he was okay.
Castiel Novak stared at his phone when it had beeped, the screen turning black. He pressed some buttons insistently before his drunken mind came to terms with the fact that his phone had died. He ended up shoving his phone into his jacket pocket clumsily, stumbling around the sidewalk he was walking on and squinting irritably when headlights would flash at him as cars passed.
Castiel didn't know where he was. There weren't many streetlights, and under further inspection with his blurry vision (Castiel wasn't wearing his contacts), the dark-haired teen saw some houses around him, lights off and the street they sat on quiet with nighttime
Another car passed, and it ran over a muddy puddle of melted snow and dirt, splashing all of Castiel's right side thoroughly. He cursed and glared drunkenly at the car as it sped away. Castiel was shivering, now, as he walked, wondering what the hell he was doing outside in this cold weather, and trying to remember why the fuck he had gotten drunk in the first place.
He couldn't remember, though. Castiel's mind was a jumbled mess, all coherent thoughts slipping out of reach just when Castiel started to grasp them. Suddenly, Castiel felt quite lost and a little bit scared. He wished that he had some more whiskey to rid him of the scary feeling that squeezed his heart and burned his stomach.
But he was alone and drink-less, wandering aimlessly as he tried to recall what had gotten him here in the first place.
Dean had been lying on his bed trying to sleep when Jo had called.
And when he had found his phone and heard the frantic blond tell him about Castiel, Dean was up and dressed in a jacket and jeans, already making his way out of the house to look for Castiel under Jo's instruction. His heart was pounding and it ached with worry, and all Dean could think was I need to find him, I need to find him, I need to find him.
And those thoughts and worries clouded his mind as he drove, inspecting his neighborhood carefully before driving to Castiel's. There were little to no cars on the snow slick roads, and Dean prayed that no cops would find Castiel and arrest him for being drunk and wandering around after curfew time. Hell, Dean would get into a shitload of trouble, too, if he were to get caught driving. He needed to find Castiel, first. He wouldn't even let a thousand cop cars stop him from making sure his friend was okay.
This is all my fault, the blond thought as he slowly drove down a road close to Castiel's neighborhood. Dean should have never pushed Castiel away- he should have never ignored his texts and made him feel like crap.
What if Castiel's kiss wasn't fake? What if Castiel actually meant it and Dean had just rid himself of the best thing that could have happened to him?
Those were the thoughts that haunted Dean's mind in the six (now seven) days that he had gone without seeing his best friend. Those were the thoughts that churned Dean's stomach and made him feel like there was suddenly no air to breathe. Those were the thoughts that made him bump his head on car trunks at the auto shop and fuck up the simplest of tasks.
Dean needed Castiel. He was nothing without him, and he knew that, now. Dean didn't just want Castiel to be around him (although that would be more than he deserves, right now). Dean wanted Castiel to be his. He wanted to be able to kiss those full lips good morning and hold Castiel's hand and push off anymore fucking girls that tried to flirt with him at the diner. Why did Dean get rid of the one thing that could have some fucking potential to be something great in his life? Why did Dean have to be so goddamn emotionally constipated and unable to just say those three fucking words? Why couldn't he just look into Castiel's stupid blue eyes and tell him how much he wanted him, and how he would surely wither away and disappear without Castiel's presence- without his light and his touch and the way that he brought Dean up from his worst of moods?
Pressing down on the gas, Dean clenched his jaw as he tried to repress his thoughts. He needed to fix this. And the way to start was to find Castiel.
So Dean checked the teen's neighborhood, coming up with nothing after an extensive search that also included him getting out of his car and walking into the cold night to look between houses, hoping Castiel would be there.
But he wasn't.
It was a good thing Dean wasn't easily deterred, though, because he only got back in his car and continued driving, turning left on the exit from Castiel's neighborhood, going by the footprints he barely saw pressed into the muddy snow when he had been outside. And he hoped that for God's sake they were Castiel's.
Luck was on his side when he saw a swaying, small figure, about a mile down the road. Dean's heart launched into his chest and threatened to burst when he recognized that mop of dark hair and that blue jacket (thank God Castiel was wearing a coat).
Quickly, Dean pulled over next to the teen, his headlights bathing his friend in light that Castiel turned around to squint at, putting a hand above his eyes to see Dean coming out of the driver's seat.
"Cas, what the fucking hell!" Dean exclaimed, not sure how else to express his relief rather than with aggression. "I've been looking for you everywhere, what the hell are you doing?" Dean asked as he reached his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
Suddenly, Castiel broke into a wide smile. "Deeean," his voice slurred, and he began laughing, reaching over to pull Dean into a muddy hug (why was half of Castiel fucking soaked?). "Dean, I missed you so fucking much, Dean," Castiel mumbled, sagging into Dean as the blond held him up, heart pounding at Castiel's closeness, the tiny form of Cas's body shaking slightly in Dean's arms. Suddenly, the blond boy began to wonder how long Castiel had been like this- soaked and cold and walking in the snow.
"Cas-"
"I like that, Dean. I like it when y'call me Cas- it's nice- makes me feel good, makes me feel happy," Castiel babbled, breaking into fits of laughter, again, as Dean's heart weighed down in his chest, heavy with guilt at Cas's state. "I like sayin' your name, Dean. It's nice, too, Dean. Deeean, Dean, Dean, De-"
"Stop- Cas, stop," Dean ordered him, separating them slightly and holding him by the shoulders as he looked into Castiel's eyes. They were unfocused in a way that made Dean uneasy. He swallowed before he spoke, again. "I'm gonna take you to my house, okay?" Dean told him slowly. "We gotta get you into something warm. How much did you drink? What did you drink?" Dean asked as he began to walk Cas to the Impala, being careful not to slip on the snow as he held on tight to his friend.
"I drank whiskey, it didn't taste too good, Dean, but it made me forget- not sure what I wanted to forget, now. Don't 'member. Think it was 'bout you," Castiel babbled as Dean grabbed a towel from the trunk, drying Castiel's head and wrapping it around him before he settled him down in the passenger seat.
"How much did you drink, Cas?" Dean asked frantically. Whiskey was some tough shit, and Dean knew Castiel didn't drink, much. He was tiny, too. Fuck, he might have to take Cas to the fucking hospital.
As Dean slipped into the driver's seat, Castiel spoke.
"Was about half a bottle. Little more than half, I think," Castiel slurred, his head lolling. He didn't say anything more, and Dean grew worried.
"Cas?" he called out once he had started up the car and turned the heater on the highest setting it would allow. Castiel jerked at his name being called.
"Didn't mean t'be a fag, Dean," Castiel murmured, suddenly remembering what he had gotten drunk for. "Just really like you- really wanted to kiss you, Dean," Castiel spoke, his gravelly voice sounding hurt. Dean felt as though his insides had been torn out of him.
He didn't say anything as he shot Jo a text telling her he had found Cas and that he'd call her in a bit. Then Dean pulled off from the side of the road, easing the car through the streets as he prayed that they wouldn't be stopped by cops. Castiel was silent as Dean drove, trying to get home the quickest he could.
"You still with me, Cas?" Dean asked when the teen had gotten disconcertingly quiet.
Castiel growled out a confirmation. "Feel like shit," he murmured.
Dean couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Yeah, that'll happen to you when you drink half a bottle of whiskey, Cas."
The teen seemed to make a noise of protest. "No- I feel shitty. Feel like crap. Fucked up, Dean. Sorry I fucked up. Didn't mean to make you mad," Castiel had spoken, his voice incredibly upset.
Dean swallowed back a lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say.
"Tried callin' you every day. Y'never answered. It's okay, though, I'd hate me, too," the teen slurred. "I'm a fucking piece of-"
"Stop it," Dean interrupted, anxious as he shook his head, refusing to look at his friend. But Castiel only continued, unphased.
"Shit. I'm shit. I didn't leave my room, Dean," Castiel rambled as he sat up, although he was leaning heavily on the door, towel drooping down from his shoulders. "Stayed in my room all week. Meg called- told her I don't wanna be with her- I think I hurt her feelings, Dean. I hurt her real bad, but I can't help it because-"
"Cas-"
"I love you, Dean," Castiel continued, making Dean's heart stop in his chest as he looked incredulously at Castiel before looking back at the road, trying to calm his racing pulse. He hadn't heard that right. There was no way he had heard that right. "Told Meg I love you n'she was upset. I hurt a lot of people- it's all I do. I just fuck shit up and I make people hate me because why would they like me, I don't deserve-"
"Castiel, shut the fuck up," Dean ordered. Finally, the teen closed his mouth, suddenly looking at Dean with wide blue eyes.
"M'sorry, Dean," he murmured before sagging in his seat.
And Dean fought back the burning in his eyes because why the hell was Cas apologizing? This was Dean's fault- it was his fault only, damnit! He couldn't take this anymore- he couldn't hear Castiel like this.
But Dean didn't know what to say. He wasn't fucking good with crap like this. What could he say? Cas just said the three fucking words that Dean Winchester had never spoken. The three words that he always dreaded hearing.
The three words that meant Dean had someone he could lose. Someone he would one day cry over. Someone besides his family that he would have to protect and take care of.
No. Dean didn't want this. He couldn't fucking do this.
Dean could feel his breath hitch in his throat as he tried to calm his breathing, clearing his mind of its frantic thoughts. Now was not the time to freak out. Right now Cas needed help, Dean reminded himself as he pulled into his garage. Taking a deep breath and shaking away his thoughts, Dean got out of the car and walked over to the passenger seat.
"Come on, Cas," Dean murmured as he hauled Cas out of the car, pulling him up by his arm and ignoring the whimper that the scrawny boy emitted.
"Owww, ouch- hurts, Dean," Castiel murmured, sagging into his friend's side and he clumsily tried to gain control over his footing. Dean pulled him along, taking him inside and into his room. Sam was still asleep (thank God, Dean didn't wanna explain this), and Dean tried to be as discreet as someone all but carrying a drunk person could be.
After only a few minutes of struggle, Dean had Cas in his room and situated on his desk chair where the teen slumped, murmuring nonsense. Dean sighed as he rifled through his closet, pulling out some spare clothes for Castiel to wear. Cas was definitely soaked with water and mud, from what Dean could see in the better lighting, and it looked suspiciously like it had been sprayed on him. Maybe from a passing car, Dean decided.
So, after managing to find a pair of sweatpants and an old sweater (Castiel never did bring back the ones Dean had given him after the egg incident, Dean noticed with a blush), Dean walked over to Cas and pulled him onto his feet. "Here, Cas," he said, handing him the clothes. "You think you can change by yourself?" Dean asked as Castiel's fingers fumbled to hold onto the clothing. Dean didn't want to change him into it- he knew Castiel would not appreciate that when morning came.
Cas nodded, and Dean lead him to the hallway bathroom, keeping a steady hand on the teen's back. "I'll be right outside, okay?" Dean reassured him as he closed the door to the bathroom once Castiel was standing safely inside.
After a few minutes of some fumbling and grunting noises, Cas was silent. Dean grew concerned until the pained sound of vomiting reached his ears. Eyes widened, Dean threw open the door to the sight of Cas hunched over the toilet (he had managed to get Dean's clothes on, at least), emptying out the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. Dean sighed with relief. It was a good thing he was getting the whiskey out. Now Dean would be able to let Cas sleep without being afraid of him dying from drowning in his own vomit or something horribly morbid like that.
Carefully, Dean made his way over to his friend, kneeling down next to him and putting a comforting hand on his back. "Easy there, buddy," he murmured as Cas gripped on tighter to the seat, his hands paper white and mouth agape as he panted and gasped. "Just let it out, Cas," Dean encouraged as the teen let out a heave and another wave of vomit into the toilet.
Dean kept his hand on Cas's back, rubbing small circles as the small boy threw up everything he could. After Cas had calmed his sickness for a suitable amount of time, Dean gently helped up his friend, flushing the toilet and closing the seat so Cas could sit on it.
Cas was a sickly green- his lips cracked and dirty and face beaded with sweat from the force of vomiting his body had gone through. Dean wet a towel and wiped Cas's face, trying to cool down the teen and get his skin to return to a normal shade. Cas hummed appreciatively into the cool press of the towel, his throat raw from the harsh burn of acid and his eyes underlined with heavy bags.
"You're okay," Dean murmured, putting a hand on Cas's arm and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb as he wiped at Cas's face. "You're fine, you'll be okay," he said more for his own comfort rather than Cas's.
Dean got Cas to swish around some mouthwash and drink a glass of water before he took him to the guest room. The bed was already clean and made, and he eased Cas into the sheets and onto his side, covering him up and retrieving a trash can that he placed next to the bed just in case.
"Alright. Get some sleep," Dean ordered, making his way out of the room.
"M'sorry, Dean," Cas murmured, his voice still slurred. Dean looked back at his friend, but the teen was already asleep.
And when Dean went to his own bed, he called Jo. The blond had been frantic, but once Dean calmed her down and explained everything she seemed a bit distant and angry. And, again, Dean wondered how much Cas had told her.
After bidding Jo an awkward goodnight, Dean kicked off his shoes and laid back in his bed. He found that he couldn't slip into sleep's grasp, though. Instead he just stared at the ceiling and thought about all that he had done wrong, and wondered if he'd be able to fix it.
Back from my hiatus! Although it wasn't as much of a hiatus and more of two weeks of stress and tests and lack of sleep and excessive studying…
Anyways, thankyou guys for being so amazingly patient! Your reviews for me to return were encouraging instead of threatening, and I really appreciate that! And since you guys have been so kind, I decided to put up this chapter now instead of next week :) (i wanted to take a weeklong break to just sleep and stuff but this is more important)
I'm going to be answering some reviews, now! So yeah n_n
Funkegirl: I pictured this Alastair as the one from "On the Head of a Pin" :) so basically… just picture him younger and with more hair? haha
Ash: I didn't mean to seem offended! I'm sorry! I wasn't offended at all, I was just worried that it seemed as though I was using Meg and Pam, because they're my two fav spn girls! Don't worry, I appreciate criticism! Sorry if I seemed rude
For like 5+ reviewers that have asked: Dean will find out about Cas's cutting! It just won't be anytime soon. Once things have settled Cas will choose to tell him. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about that :)
Also! I don't remember the reviewer but i remember this question coming up a few times. Yes, Cas will show Dean what's in the book. But, it won't be any time soon.
And for the few people that were curious, the thing between me and my best friend was a long time ago, haha. Not going on right now
ANYWAYS, thankyou guys so much for reviewing! You all make me laugh and smile so much you have no idea! You're all the kindest and sweetest people ever, and I don't know what I'd do without you guys.
Thanks for being so patient.
Goodbye, lovelies!~
PS: Quite a few of you have done this already, but if you guys write fanfics that you would like me to read, don't be too shy to ask! I'd love to read them! You can PM me if you'd like :) And I'll definitely review and favorite/follow them! And woahh i might even promote it and stuff
Have a spoopy halloween you guys! Stay safe and dont do anything the Winchesters wouldn't advise you to do!