Quick next chapter right? So chapter 12 it is. Next week is going to be really busy so I don't really have time to write so that's why I decided to go on a writing mood and here ya go a new chapter.
Notifications: I still do not own anything, okay?, I own nothing. Remember there'll be mistakes and I'm sorry about em.
Warnings: Self harm (because of the spell that is done in this chapter) if you want to miss the blood related texture then start reading when Deans POV comes up again.
Again thank you, thank you, thank you for reviewing, favoriting and following. Keep doing it, your reviews makes me smile, they make me want to write more.
Enjoy chapter 12!
How much can you lose blood until you die? Well it is fucking time to find out, cause I'm about to be drained out of my blood. I would be lying if I'd say that I am not scared because I am. I am so fucking scared but I have died before right? I have died and come back. So I'll be alright, Castiel will make sure of it. I breath in and look at the ingredients that are already in a bowl, shit we gotta do this. "Are you ready?", Castiel asks me gently. I clear my throat, "Uh, yeah I am, let's get this show on the road." We walk upstairs into the small quest bathroom. There is this regular sized bathtub which we figured would be the best place to drain my blood.
Michael still doesn't have any idea what are we going to do and really I don't know what I am supposed to tell him. The plan is simple. I slit my wrist open and fill the tub with it and after that Cas will keep me alive till the paramedics gets here. Apparently flying and healing skills are still in the learning progress with Castiel, so healing me from the blood loss is not an option and flying me to a fucking hospital isn't an option either. Then Castiel will end the spell and when I awake I am hopefully back in the lovely year 2014.
"Hey Cas, what are we gonna do with the shrink over there?", I ask motioning towards Michael. "We'll let him be and after awhile he can be the one to call the paramedics.", he says looking at me eyes piercing. Michael is still downstairs and the plan is that he probably won't notice that anything is wrong before I scream for him.
I sit down on the tile floor next to the bathtub, knife in my hands. Here goes nothing. I put the blade on my left hand's wrist and make a deep cut. I winch chancing the knife into my bleeding hand, making a similar cut to my right hands wrist. I watch how the red liquid flows from the cuts to the bathtub. Pretty soon I feel drowsy and I look up to Castiel and ask silently is this enough. Castiel shakes his head, no, the spell requires more blood. "Son of a bitch", I mutter feeling nauseous. "Michael?", I ask, my vision blackened and spotty. I can feel my consciousness slowly drifting away. "Yes, Michael.", Castiel says and it feels like he is thousand miles away.
"Michael!", I shout grasping to stay conscious. "Michael!", I'm not even sure does the voice leave my mouth because it feels like it doesn't. But after a second which feels like an hour Michael bursts in to the terrible scene. "Thank you.", I whisper because hopefully this is the last time I see him because I want to go home. Nauseating darkness consumes me. Castiel please don't let me die.
Michaels POV
I open the upstairs bathroom door and see horrific scene ahead of me. How did I not see this coming. I look at my surroundings, Dean is kneeling over the bathtub which is filled with his blood. Dean bleeds out from the two cuts in his wrists. I look for a towel and kneel down putting pressure on the wounds. I'm not an doctor so I don't know is Deans blood loss fatal but I figure it is at least close to it. To my surprise I'm not panicking, I feeling surprisingly calm. I murmur reassuring word to Dean, everything is going to be fine.
I found a cellphone from Deans pocket which I used to call for help and they better come fast because Dean is not going to hold on for much longer. "Why? Dean why?", I whisper while holding him in my arms trying to make the bleeding stop. Please stop. I know I'm not going to get an answer because the poor boy is out like a light. And my questioning is useless because I know the reason he hurt himself. I know that this wasn't for the sake that he wanted to die, no. He thought that he was getting back to home.
What kind of doctor am I. I didn't notice that the medication did not work. I really though we found right medication for him, I thought our therapy session were helpful. God damn it, this boy deserves more, I know that. He is a good boy beneath all that toughness he uses as his mask. I hear a helicopter landing and I know that the help is here. They get Dean inside the helicopter and I hop in too. They check me for injuries just in case because I did spent almost two days with mentally unstable person.
In the hospital they stroll Dean away in a hurry, in order to try to save his live. I hear words like extreme blood loss and then I hear doctor shout, "He is going to a cardiac arrest." And then all the voices get muffled by the closing door. I don't really know what to do now. I just stare at the door dumbly. Please Dean, survive, don't die. You are stronger than this.
I get lead into a small room, so I can rest but like I can rest. My patient is on verge of dying. They say that I shouldn't get too attached to my patients but to be honest I'm bad at that. My colleague Roger gets in, his the one who is tried to figure out the right medications for Dean with me. "I can't understand this.", I say suddenly. "Yeah, human mind is a mystery especially someone like Deans.", Roger says smoothly. "No, no I don't mean that", I scratch my beard, "Dean told me that the medication never worked.", I look at Rogers reaction and he has his thinking face on. "He obviously has paranoid schizophrenia but how is he so functioning?", I ask but don't let Roger answer, "He has been able to lie to us, look normal, I", I notice now how tired I am, "I, he is not supposed to be able to do that." I breath. Maybe this is something else eternally. No. I don't know. We discuss about the matter for a while but then Roger has to leave and for once again I am alone.
God I have to deal with Deans family soon, I have to give a report of this. Sometimes I hate myself.
Dean's POV
I wake up surrounded by beeps. I don't open my eyes, because to be honest I am afraid. Afraid to face the world I left behind. I know that I am in hospital, opening my eyes. Son of a bitch why do they have to keep the lights so bright in here. I close my eyes again but open them almost immediately. I try to sit up put I notice that for once again I am in restrains. My heart beat quickens. I can't breath. Fuck. God fucking damn it. "CASTIEL!", I roar. Looking down at my hands, getting the confirmation that the spell fucking did not work. "CASTIEL, GET YOUR FEATHERY ASS DOWN HERE NOW!", I shout with more force. I hear someone say, "Winchester is awake", from the outside of the room. "CASTIEL.", I whisper angrily.
This is just my freaking luck. I perform a spell that almost kills me and the spell doesn't fucking work. A doctor by the looks of it comes in. He looks at me sadly, kinda wearily. "Dean, how are you feeling?", he asks pity covering his voice. "Well my hands fucking hurt and I am pissed off, thank you for asking.", I say the last part my voice venomously sarcastic. "I see.", he says, "It was a miracle that you survived with the blood loss you had", he shakes his head not continuing. "Yeah", I blaster a fake grin, "I got an angel on my shoulder.", I look up to the ceiling, "Who has some fucking explaining to do!"
The doctor takes a pen light and flashes it in my eyes. Making my vision shake. I see Sam sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed, grasping his head. "Castiel, why the fuck my memories are chancing?", Sam says clearly in pain. He drops from the chair on to the floor. Gasping for air. Memories chancing? Cas looks panicked and says,"I don't know, the spell was supposed to work, it worked in the last time." Cas continues repeating the phrase, "It worked the last time." That's when the vision ends
What the fuck is going on. Panic rises, what an actual fuck. I look at the doctor, panic most likely clear in my eyes, "Are you okay?", he ask. "Do I fucking look like I am okay?", I spat, fucking idiot. The doctor is taken aback and leaves the room. I gotta get fuck out of here. But I know better. "What do you want from me?", I ask from no one particular. The fuck is going on? My thoughts are blurry, everything is blurry. What went wrong? Can I ever go back. I have to admit I am so damn scared.
About an hour went by before anyone came in which gave me time to calm down and think somewhat rationally. Michael to my surprise comes in with a warm smile plastered on his face. He sits in the chair next to my bed and opens the restrains, I was about ask why but he just says that he knows that I'm not going to do anything to harm myself anytime soon, hopefully. "I'm sorry.", I say looking at Michael. "Why are you sorry?", Michael asks warmly. "Why I wouldn't be, you had to see, see me like that and I kidnapped you", I ramble but Michael stops me, "Dean, you don't need to be sorry, okay? I understand.", he says eagerly. And that's the thing I don't get, why would Michael understand and what does he think he understands. This all is too confusing.
"Where's dad?", I ask after a while of silence."I forced him to go home to get some sleep", Michael says with a sad smile. I snort, "Yeah, he can be stubborn like that.". Michael lets out a dry laugh. "So what now?", I ask nervously. Michael seems a bit surprise by the question. He inhales and ruffles his hear a bit, "To be honest I'm not sure, you'll most likely will have to stay here till we figure out whats going on in that head of yours.", Michael looks at me straight into eyes and I can somehow sense that he doesn't want that to happen. "Figured as much", I say dryly. "All I wanted, was just to get back", I say sadly. All I want to is to get back. "I know", he says silently, "I know." No, you really don't.
Castiel is no where to be seen. I have called, prayed, I have demanded him to come down but still nothing. Maybe he doesn't care but I know that is not the reason. I hope he is all right.
I seem to have always some kind of guard on the door after I became restrain free. After Michael left I haven't had any visitors. I spent my time drawing protection sigils on the walls with a black marker I found. I don't really care how crazy I look because they already think that I am a nutjob. And now that Michael knows that I pretended that the med's worked so there is no use to look 'normal'. After I'm done, a nurse comes in and takes a picture of the sigils without telling me why and leaves. I sit down on the floor and rest my head against the wall. I'm so tired. Am I allowed to be tired. I would love to sleep. Eventually I do fall asleep.
The memories are chancing. What the fuck does that mean?