Chapter 25:

A/N: I'm on time! It's a miracle! :P

So because I just got a complaint on Heartache: Teenage Love that nothing makes sense and I should do my research before coming up with these ideas, I want to just clarify that I do do research on most of these chapters. In fact half the time that I have for typing is done doing research. That's why it takes me a week to post the chapters, not only because of school but in my extra time I'm doing research, but there's only so much information you can find on the internet. I'm sorry if having these chapters non-realistic is bothersome; I'll try to do more "in depth" research as best I can. With that being said, yes I did research about concussions. In fact, I read three articles about them so hopefully this chapter is as "realistic" as possible. Thank you.

Now that that is all cleared up and I'm done secretly ranting, thank you casdean185 , Midnight Blue Angel 24, Casismyfavorite, Supernatural Lover D.S.W, SaurniExMental, and bleedfordavey (for the reviews with the other chapters too, glad you like it so much) for the reviews. :)

WARNING (because I feel the need): Very VERY graphic language in this chapter. If you read Heartache: Teenage Love then you pretty much know what to expect from John but if you haven't be warned, it's pretty bad and I don't want to offend anyone.

There's this ringing in my ears and my head feels like there is a jack hammer pounding away in it. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, willing the severe pain to just go away and when I open my eyes, my vision is swimming in black. I have to blink a few times before my vision returns to normal but then I sit there with my eyes closed, waiting for the ringing to stop. It does after a few seconds so I open my eyes and look at the hand that I was holding my head with. Surprisingly there is no blood so I run my hands through all my hair, making sure I'm not bleeding, and come back blood free. It really is a miracle that whatever hit me didn't break the skin.

I look around the room, noticing how it looks like I'm in some kind of abandoned warehouse. My eyes travel over a lump on the floor but not two seconds later go back to it. Fear rushes up through my chest and I struggle to stand. I walk over on wobbly legs and kneel on my knees beside the hump, placing my hands on top and shaking gently. "Elijah?" I say with concern but there is no response. "Elijah wake up." There's blood surrounding his head so it's obvious that the thing that didn't break the skin for me, broke the skin for Elijah. I check his pulse and breathe a sigh of relief when I find one.

"I think I hit him harder than you." A voice says. I whip my head around, immediately regretting it because my vision blurs, to try and see who spoke. There's no one there but that voice is burned into my memory.

"John, you son of a bitch." I say loud enough for him to hear. "Why don't you come out of hiding?" I look to Elijah again, more concerned with waking him, which he has still yet to do.

"I will… when I'm ready." His voice echoes so I can't pinpoint his location.

"What'd you hit us with?" I try to gently turn Elijah's head to look at the wound but I'm afraid to move it too much so I don't manage to see the injury.

It takes John a little while to answer. "A bat."

"What no gun?" I challenge, looking around for something I can use to stop the bleeding.

I hear John chuckle. "Oh I'll get one, don't worry."

I don't see anything and besides, I don't want to leave his body which would leave it open for attack by John. "You could have just taken me. Why bring Elijah into this?"

"He's just as much as a gay whore as you are." I hear him answer.

"I hope you know I hope you go to hell." I mention. "I'm sure there's a special place reserved for you."

"Then I'll see you there." John says.

"Why don't you just let Elijah go, he has nothing to do with this, he doesn't even know you." I try.

John chuckles again. "He's a faggot Castiel, he is part of this."

"So you going to kill him after you kill me?" I ask in anger, the thought of him killing Elijah outraging me.

"If he doesn't die by the head injury." I clench my jaw in anger. "Well it was nice chatting with you Castiel, I'll be back." I hear a door shut somewhere but I'm not sure where. It wouldn't have helped if I did anyways, I can hear John chaining the door now.

I continue to try and wake the unconscious man and it takes about ten minutes before Elijah wakes. He groans in pain, eyes tightly shut, and turns on his side to throw up. I rub his back soothingly. He opens his eyes, a glassy look to them, and looks to me. You can tell he's trying, and failing, to focus on my face. "Castiel?"

He tries to sit up but I gently nudge him back to the floor in a lying position. "Stay lying down, you may have a concussion." He has his eyes shut again and I can tell he's in severe pain. "How's your head?" It's a stupid question but I feel like I should say something.

"It feels like there are a million jack hammers pounding in my head and on top of that, there's probably a thousand trains joining in." He says with a pain filled look.

I can't help but smile at his choice of analogy, however. "Nice way of describing it."

Elijah opens his eyes and gives me a weak smile. "I thought you'd like it." He tries to sit up again and ignores my protests. I help him scoot back a little and lean against a pile of something or other. "So what happened?"

I shake my head. "John Winchester."

Elijah nods and looks to his lap. "Of course." His eyes travel to mine again but they still look slightly glossy. "I guess we didn't get that police protection in time. I would love to know how he found where you were." He leans his head against the something or other and closes his eyes shut tightly in pain.

"You going to be okay?" I ask in concern.

He takes a deep breath. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"You already did once." Elijah manages a small chuckle.

"I know that, I was there." He jokes.

Silence engulfs us and minutes pass before I decide to say something. "Elijah?" He hums to let me know he's listening because he has his eyes shut again. "I just want you to be prepared to be insulted pretty badly. John is not shy when it comes to the gay insults."

Elijah lifts his head and looks at me with understanding. "Thanks for the warning. I think I'll be fine though, I'm used to it."

"What do you mean?" I ask, curious.

"The people in my high school weren't exactly accepting of my orientation." He tells, looking at his lap. "They didn't like it at all, including my friends."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." I sympathize.

He shrugs, closing his eyes once more. "It's all in the past, doesn't matter. I'm proud to be who I am, don't care what others think anymore."

"I don't know if this will make you feel better or not, but people in my high school pretty much shunned me too." I smile when he peeks open an eye to look at me. "But like you, I'm over it. I'm me, can't change it, might as well be proud of it."

"Are you sure you're depressed?" Elijah asks jokingly and we both chuckle.

I look at him, studying his face and watching as he breathes with his eyes shut. For some strange reason, with seeing how peaceful he looks in this moment, I can't help but think how handsome he looks. In this tiny moment, the few seconds of silence, I think he is the most handsome and giving person in the world. "I don't know, maybe I'm getting better."

He peaks his eyes open at me, looking extremely tired. "Well I suppose that's good." Again his eyes close as if it's painful to keep them open. I have a bad feeling. "How's your head now?"

"The pain has subsided a little… not much though." I answer. "You?"

He shakes his head. "It feels like a migraine times a thousand."

"Still feel like you're going to throw up?" He nods. "Are you going to throw up?" He shrugs and it troubles me. "I'm going to go see if there is a way out." Elijah nods his acknowledgement, agreeing with me.

I get up and walk around, every step causing this pounding pain to radiate in my head. It makes it hard to walk and I begin to feel nauseas. I don't find a way out other than the door John used but I do come across a black mixing bucket. I pick it up and carry it over to Elijah.

Elijah is bents over, eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain. I drop the bucket and jog over to him as fast as my pounding head will allow. "Elijah? Hey, hey, Elijah?" I cup his face and force his head to face my way.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. "I think I'm going to throw up." He says breathlessly and painfully. I nod and rush over to the bucket, bringing it over to Elijah and handing it to him. He grabs it just as he pukes; dipping his head to make sure it gets in the bucket.

I rub his back as I wait it out, ignoring the smell of vomit mixed with blood that is churning my own stomach. Once he's done he sits back heavily, shoulders slouched, head tilted back, and eyes closed once again. He sighs as he sit there, resting his body against the artificial back rest. He's sweating now and it's pretty heavy too, along with uncontrollable shaking. I'm really worried.

"Elijah, can I check your head wound?" I ask but I don't give him time to answer. I'm not sure if he would have anyway. I sift through his hair that is now heavily clumped with blood. There's so much blood though, that I can't see the wound, all I manage to distinguish is the fact that it's still trickling out blood.

I hear the door open then and I peer around the corner to see John coming back. I go next to Elijah, who is now breathing really heavily. "I half expected you to come back with Dean."

"I'm having a little harder time trying to find him." He claims. He then holds up something shiny and it makes me flinch. "Looky what I managed to scrounge up."

It's a gun, a bright, shiny silver hand gun. "Not as nice as that rifle years ago." I say sassily.

John chuckles and manages to wake Elijah up, the guy lifting his head and looking at the man. "Oh, you're alive. Elijah Dongoski, it's nice to finally meet you. I'm John Winchester, the man that's going to kill you and your best friend here."

"Leave him alone." I growl to John.

John isn't fazed and continues to talk to Elijah. "Castiel told you why I'm doing this right?"

Elijah smirks. "Go to hell you stupid son of a bitch."

John cackles in amusement. "I feisty faggot, nice." He stops abruptly. "It's not going to help you much though; either way… you're both going to die."

I can tell Elijah is having a hard time staying conscious and he's extremely pale. "Okay John listen, please." I start. "Just let Elijah go, he really needs a doctor."

"I would assume you would need one too." He looks to me.

"Yes but not as bad as Elijah. Please he has nothing to do with this. You can keep me here but not him, please?" I beg and I can see John thinking about it.

He purses his lips before answering. "Nah, I want Dean to see his little boyfriend suffering."

"Dean and I aren't even dating anymore." I claim. "Okay? We broke it off months ago… please."

He gets right in my face and places the gun up to my temple. "Begging isn't going to get you anywhere, faggot." He then goes up to Elijah who, surprisingly, still has his eyes open. "And you… you know all gays are fucking whores." He gets right in his face, placing the gun on his temple too. "You go and fuck every guy you meet in bars, huh? You sticking with that faggot over there," He motions to me. "Just to get in his pants, have him fuck your ass with his dick, hard. Or maybe you like top…" He then gets up and steps away from us. Once he's a good distance away, however, he turns around to us. "All you faggots make me sick and you turned my son into one. My son is dead because of you."

"Last I checked Dean is still alive." I challenge.

"No." John shakes his head. "Not the Dean I knew, now he's some pussy with a dick up his ass." He gets this malevolent look in his eyes. "No, my son is dead, and you're going to pay for it."

I continue to be smart with him. "You couldn't kill me once John, what makes me so sure you can now?"

"Oh I'll be able too." He grins malevolently. "But that's not what I'm starting with."

"What do you mean?" I ask nervously.

His grin widens and his look turns more evil than anything. I'm terrified. "Oh, you'll see."

A/N: I always feel dirty and awful after writing John's parts. I really dislike writing all those insults but unfortunately they are needed for story purposes. :( I really hope I didn't offend anyone.

Thank you for reading. :)