Destiel One Shots Chapter 3, a supernatural fanfic

(Trigger Warning)...I guess.

He does it because it makes him feel better. It makes him feel better about being like this. It shouldn't make him feel better. It's a really dumb thing to do, but he couldn't stop really. It's not like he wants to.

Castiel sat on the closed lid of the toilet. He rubs his right hand over the pale skin of his left forearm. Along the arm ran long, dark marks, Castiel personally thought they were beautiful. He knows if anyone else saw them, they wouldn't think they were beautiful. That's why he began wearing long sleeved tshirts even when he is just at the bunker.

Castiel takes the razor from his sweat pants' pocket. He flips it around between his pointer finger and his middle finger. He remembers when he got the razor.

He had stopped this for about three weeks. But suddenly everything started to pile on. Sam had yelled at him that night. It was over something stupid and Castiel shouldn't have gotten so worried about it. He excused himself from the room and found himself in the bathroom. He rummaged through the whole bathroom, trying to find something sharp. He found a face razor. He pulled it apart. It was difficult, but he did it.

In real time, Castiel holds the razor in his hand, hovering over his arm. His breath was shaky but his hand was surprisingly steady. Castiel presses the razor into his arm. He lets the razor sink into the skin. When he feels it sting, when he feels a break between his skins, he drags the razor to the right. Skin tears and Castiel closes his eyes for a second. He repeats his previous actions again, making sure to breathe in and out. He goes to rip his skin for a third time when his thoughts on interrupted.

"Cas," Dean was knocking on the door. "The food's done."

"Okay," Castiel's voice wavered a bit.

"Uh, okay. Hurry so it doesn't get cold on you." Dean's footsteps walk away.

Castiel rips toilet paper off and presses it against his arm. He puts the razor back into his pocket and stands up. He throws the toilet paper away. He pulls his sleeves down. He takes more toilet paper and pushes it into the sleeve of the ripped apart arm.

He walks out of the bathroom.

Castiel walks into dining-room-type-deal and sits at the table. He looks at the food and by auto-pilot begins spooning it onto his plate.

Sam and Dean begin a conversation. Castiel doesn't bother to try and keep up it because he knows he won't understand most of it. Castiel props an arm onto the table and rests his head on the hand. He pushes the food around with his fork, with his free hand. So easily, he begins to get lost in the swirls of peas and mashed potatoes. He huffs out a breath as he lifts the spoon to his mouth. He puts the mixture of food into his mouth. He almost wants to not chew and swallow. For a moment, he wants to open his mouth and let all the food just fall out. He decides that's too odd.

"Cas,"

He raises his head up. He looks between the brothers. "Yes,"

"Are you okay?" Sam asks him. "You zoned out on us."

Castiel looks at Sam. He feels the brotherly love from him and it almost makes him want to smile. Castiel looks at Dean. He sees the confusion on his face and it makes Castiel worried.

"I'm fine."

Castiel goes back to swirling his food.

"Cas, you know, you can tell us if something is up." Dean says. He looks at small Castiel with such a beautifully intense stare that he doesn't see.

"I know," Castiel says.

"Dude, your arm's bleeding." Sam says surprised.

Castiel cooly glances at his arm. Yep, it's bleeding through the toilet paper and his shirt.

"Okay,"

"You need to clean that up so it doesn't get infected."

"Okay," Castiel doesn't move. He was telling his body to move, but his body wouldn't listen to him. He was telling his body to get up and go clean it, but his body sat still.

Sam and Dean share a confused look. Sam gestures towards Castiel saying 'what the poo?' while Dean glances at Sam, and then continues to give Castiel a gentle stare.

Dean starts to stand up. "I'll go get the first-aid kit and clean you up."

Suddenly, Castiel is on his feet.

"No," He says it a little too loud. "I can do it myself."

He turns and walks to the stairs and up them.

When he knows they can't see him, he begins to run his fingers through his hair with nervousness. He has picked up since becoming human the habit of his. It never calms him though.

Castiel walks to a closet. He opens and quickly, with his eyes, looks for the first-aid kit. He locates the first-aid kit at the top of the closet.

"Of course," He whispers to himself.

He goes to reach for it but finds out he isn't tall enough. He gains three inches when he stands on the tips of his toes. He reaches, again, for the kit. He smacks it a bit, which causes it to fall off the shelf and land on the ground with a very loud and obnoxious thud. It cracked open and everything in the kit scatters around.

Castiel bends down to pick the objects from the kit up but ends up sitting down.

He presses his back against the wall and looks around at the hallway that's covered in gauze, Band-Aids, aspirin tablets, and other healing necessities.

He hears the stomping of a man coming up the stairs. He should move.

"Cas, what happened?" Dean walks closer to the scene.

"The first-aid kit fell."

Dean stands over him with his hands on his hip, looking around. "And you didn't think to clean this up?"

"No," Castiel says. "I tried to. But…" His sentence trails off to a silence.

Dean huffs out a breath and sits in front of Castiel.

"Are you feeling okay?" Dean asks.

Castiel looks at Dean and feels calm.

"And please, don't lie." Dean's eyes give off this loving look.

"I am not okay." Castiel says. "I have not been okay for a while."

"Alright," Dean nods. "What's been going on?"

Castiel hesitates.

Castiel's and Dean's eyes stay leveled and it's an intimate moment. Moments like these should be cherished when they come around. To be able to hold a gaze with someone without faltering should be treasured. The moment becomes more intimate when Dean slowly takes Castiel's hand and pulls it towards him.

"Let me clean your arm."

Castiel quickly pulls his arm back. "No, no, no."

Dean's thoughts connect but he doesn't want to believe it.

"Cas," His voice becomes demanding. "Pull your sleeve up,"

Tears begin to appear on Castiel's eyelids, he looks down at his arm and back to Dean. He holds his arm close to his chest.

He shakes his head. "No,"

"Castiel," Dean's mouth voices his name fully. "That wasn't a suggestion."

Castiel shakes his head back and forth. His tears are already falling down his face slowly.

"Dean, you will not understand."

"Give me a chance to try, Cas."

Castiel doesn't move now. He sits there pressed against the wall, staring at the man he feels the most love for. He can't show him this weakness he has. Dean Winchester doesn't deal with weakness like these.

Dean reaches out and grabs Castiel's arm. He pulls it towards his body.

Castiel lets him this time. He doesn't have even fight in him to stop this anyway.

Dean looks at Castiel's face, while Castiel looks at his own arm, while pushing the sleeve up.

Dean doesn't gasp when he sees the mutilation Castiel has done to his own body. He had an idea of what was under the sleeve. Dean pulls the wet-with-blood paper from Castiel's skin.

Dean looks around him for anything to clean this with. He finds a tiny, plastic bottle full of alcohol and a few cotton balls near him. Still holding Castiel's hand, he reaches for them and pulls them closer. He lets go off Castiel's hand to pour the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball.

Dean began to press it against the cuts.

"Cas, what's your favorite movie?" Dean asks him.

Castiel looks from Dean cleaning his wounds to the man's face. His face showed that he was occupied with the task at hand. Castiel traced Dean's cheekbones with his eyes.

"Star Trek: Into Darkness,"

Dean's face showed a hint of smile. "We watched that movie last night together. Remember?"

Castiel nods, fond of the memory of sitting next to Dean in the dark room. Sam had been out, getting food for the men.

"What's the last song you listened to?"

Castiel winces at the sting the alcohol gives, but he tries to think.

"Black on Black by AC/DC,"

"What's your favorite animal?" Dean asks him.

"I can tell you my favorite insect."

Dean laughs, "Alright. What's your favorite insect?"

"Bees," Castiel says with a small smile.

"We are all done here." Dean says as he pulls the sleeve down.

Castiel looks at Dean and Dean looks at Castiel.

Dean reaches out and pushes Castiel's hair back with soothing fingers.

"Next time you think about doing this…come to me." Dean says pulling his arm back. "It doesn't matter what we are doing, just come to me."

"Okay, Dean."

Castiel rolled over in his bed. He looks at the ceiling. He can't see it because it's darker than dark in his room, but he knows it's there.

Castiel pushes his sleeve up and begins to run his fingers along the fresh wounds, and the older ones. He breathed in and out. He closes his eyes and prays for sleep. He waits for sleep but it doesn't come. He kept thinking about it. He was used to ripping his skin at least three times a day. It helped him start his day, continue on with his day, and end his day. He can't end his day.

Castiel remembers what Dean said. He said it doesn't matter what they are doing, just go to him. Does sleeping count?

Castiel pushes the covers off his body and stands up. The cold ground gives him almost an electric shock and he starts moving.

Castiel exits his room, leaving the door open. Just make it to Dean's room and everything will be fine.

He almost makes it, but in order to get to Dean's room, he has to pass the bathroom.

Castiel stops in front of the bathroom. He knows that he hid the razor in there. He remembers where it is. He knows he could easily get in there and just ends this want.

Standing there feels like days, Castiel doesn't move. He feels like he isn't even breathing. He is just staring at the door. His hands are together, wringing around, pulling at each other's fingers. Castiel takes a deep breath and walks pass the bathroom.

He opens the door to Dean's room and suddenly he is too scared. But it's too late. The light from the hallway is pouring into the room and he can hear shifting from the bed. He walks and quietly closes the door. He slowly inches towards the bed. He stands beside it for a moment, thinking he should just run back and lie in his own bed.

"Cas, is that you?" Dean's voice was dragging itself down with sleep.

"Y-yeah," Castiel whispers it.

Fabric is moved fast.

"Get in here,"

Castiel gets into the bed. Dean pulls the sheets and comforter over him.

They lay apart for a while. Castiel shaking because he's scared he'll stand up, and walk to the bathroom. He doesn't want to, but his body wants to.

Dean's hand reaches across the bed, for what seems like miles, before he makes contact with Castiel.

"Come closer," He whispers.

Castiel doesn't hesitate. He rolls closer to Dean, while Dean puts his arm around Castiel's waist pulling him closer than close.

"I tried to stay up and wait for you." Dean tells him. "But I fell asleep."

Castiel chuckles lightly. Dean smiles to himself for making Castiel laugh.

While lying in the darkness with Dean, Castiel feels the light peek of lips on the back of his neck.

"Castiel, why do you hurt yourself?" Dean whispers the question but the room is so quiet that to Castiel it feels like he yelled it.

Castiel backed up farther into Dean's body, trying to gain some warmth. "You will think I am weak."

Dean takes a hand and begins to pull Castiel's hair back behind his ear. "I could never think you're weak. You're the strongest man I know."

"I do it because it makes me feel better." Castiel confesses. "Because I feel really bad,"

"What do you feel bad about, angel?" Dean's voice isn't full of sleep anymore. He has gotten past that now.

Castiel stiffens at the word. Angel. He almost wants to laugh. Is Dean trying to mock his pain? He knows Castiel isn't an angel anymore.

Castiel begins to rub his mutilated arm again. "I am not an angel anymore, Dean."

Dean runs his fingers between Castiel's shoulder and elbow. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"What else would be?" It wasn't a question that needed an answer.

"Castiel, I still think of you as my angel."

Castiel, feeling sleep begin to creep up on him, nestles his head into the pillow.

"Your angel,"

Dean puts his arm back around Castiel's waist and tightens his grip. "Yes, my angel."

"I am just so tired all the time, Dean." Castiel begins to voice his problems. "It is as if I have a million thoughts in my mind but zero at the same time. All I want to do is sleep but I cannot sleep."

"Well you're about to fall asleep now."

"You are distracting me from other things."

"How about we do something together?" Dean asks. "You, Sam, and I can start doing more things together. You've been stuffing yourself in your room too much."