Chapter 17

WARNING: angst, very, very slight mention of self pleasure, mention of sexual assault and mild violence.

Here is the other chapter explaining about Dean. And yes, you may murder Lisa… another previous dark character will come into play next chapter, guess who. I apologise for this chapter.

Songs listened to while writing this:

Us and Them

The Great Gig In The Sky

Brain Damage

Any Colour You Like

by Pink Floyd.

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Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

I tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

…

And now all your love is wasted

And then who the hell was I?

And I'm breaking at the bridges

And at the end of all your lines

Who will love you?

Who will fight?

Who will fall far behind?

~ Skinny Love by Bon Iver

The sun kissed his face as he looked up to the Texas blue skies, so deep blue that it seemed surreal, it distracted his concentration upon his duty; he had only seen that colour in a pair of eyes that left him breathless, the eyes that breached into his soul with such tender emotion that was fairly new to him. He did not comprehend how or why, he rarely questioned it but he knew that it must be love for the sentiment was too fervent. The very idea of being loved had been flabbergasting, hence metamorphosis of his emotional appearance. Dean Winchester was nothing but a beautiful, perfect lie in the eyes of the world, a beautiful, beautiful lie to himself; he was this and that, he did all this and did all that, he won this and that much, it was all about them, all for them alone. Never once did he hear the words he yearned for with might from his father, not once; he did everything with confidence, took pride in his success but at the end it meant nothing because he knew those words would never be there; 'I am proud of you, son'.

His coach had reprimanded his lack of concentration and he'd been sent to run around the field until practice was over, he was surprisingly satisfied with this since his mind wandered in thoughts, imaginative dreams that would fluster or excite him because at the end of this there would always be those blue eyes in which he would get lost and forget time, forget reality, lose himself in them with overwhelming love. The one being who made him feel important, made him feel human.

And then there was Lisa, watching from a distance with her keen eyes the boy in the field. The resentment running throughout her veins burned deeply, enough to hurt a human being, enough for her mischievous heart to be condemned. The lust in her eyes intertwined with the thirst for revenge darkened her soul, blinded her without a care of whom she might wound. As Dean left the field, being the last of his mates, she followed him with her gaze until he disappeared in to the building.

The hot water falling on his skin soothed the pain left by overstrain of exercise, he closed his eyes as the lather over his body gracefully trailed down to the cool tiles, the stress began to dim like a small flame out of oxygen. Those deep blue orbs hunted him as his eyelids shut, however, it was delightful seeing them stare back at him into his soul, to feel his heart speed up with emotion. The thought of those flush pink lips on his, their soft texture, their sweet taste awakened a sensation within him running from his fingertips to his toes. The feel of his own skin to the touch of his fingertips made him shiver thinking if it would be the same reaction at the touch of those small, pale hands, the delicate hands he loved to hold in his, loved to feel on his face, his hair, on his neck; he should not be having these thoughts, not in the locker room even if all his mates were gone, he cursed himself for thinking sinfully of the pure and uncorrupted boy he loved, it felt wrong, really wrong.

Steam radiated off his chest as he stepped out of the shower, an indescribable heat pulsed throughout his veins and he became light-headed for a mere second, as it passed he found himself being gripped by his groin causing an unexpected whimper from his mouth.

"Lisa, what the hell?!" her eyes full of lust and anger sinking into his, her hands gripping him causing discomfort to the boy.

"Don't tell me you have forgotten about me, Dean." her lips moved along the curve of his neck while her hands did not move from the same position causing him to be still for fear he might get hurt.

"Get the fuck away from me, Lisa." he growled as he glared at her with hatred.

"Don't you like me anymore, Dean?" her lips moved up his throat while his hands held her waist tightly.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"You, Dean. I want you."

"Let go of me."

"Why should I?" she took his bottom lip between her teeth, "Don't deny that you don't want me. Don't deny you're not attracted to me just because you're with another guy, I know you still like women."

"Get the fuck away from me, you disgust me, Lisa."

"Don't lie, Dean. You want me." she gripped him tighter causing him to gasp in pain. "I can see the lust in your eyes."

"You bitch… let go of me." he said panting, her lips contaminated from his jaw to his lips again forcing an unwilling response of him, his hands trailed slowly to her hips gripping her with enough force to cause a loud moan at the pleasurable pain from her lips. The blazing disgust, anger and undesired lust ran throughout his veins, the self-loathe stabbed him through and his mind was unwilling to cooperate causing him to lose his senses enough for Lisa to take control once again; her free hand moved up to his chest feeling the sun-kissed skin, caressing with her soiled fingertips that very being that would never be hers, never again be. He could sense the transgression of his being, the sin being burned into his skin and it hurt, it hurt to think of the filth he would become, it hurt to know the one who deeply loved him being betrayed in such a demeaning act.

"Lisa… let go of me…" the bile in his throat burned as he spoke in a soft tone firm in anger. "Please, Lisa, let go of me… I don't want to hurt you." her eyes opened and fixed on his, the apparent repulse, anger and self-loathe in those jade orbs were enough for the little dignity left in her to oust her from him. Her grip on him was withdrawn, her eyes with shame daren't look into his neither did he wish her to; her mind blurred in what she had done, the shame, guilt and self-revulsion sickened her, her feet responded by fleeing, fleeing without looking back somewhere she could hide and think of her actions. She had regret but also envy, more than envy, jealousy but now understood it had not been the right choice to have something by force, little did she know what her thoughtless and rather selfish actions had eradicated in the boy.

The cold wall on his back made him shiver, he dropped to the floor with his knees against his chest, his head down as the tears spilled from his eyes after Lisa fled from the place; he felt violated, he could still feel her hands gripping his member and it made him nauseous, she made him hate himself for how filthy he was and it hurt. His soul and body yearned for Castiel, to be held, to be loved, to be cared for, to make him feel uncorrupted and take that sin away, burn it until it was nothing but ashes…

The water burned on his skin mixed with the tears down on his face, the soap did nothing to take away the feeling of her hands. He turned the water off and ran to the stalls to empty his stomach until it hurt, he dropped on the floor weak. His heart ached with disgust feeling he'd betrayed his love, feeling worst than the dirt, the filth of this earth; the sparkles in his eyes dimmed as did the life, he felt empty, he wanted to rip off his flesh, scratch it with his fingernails until the feeling of her disappeared. Dean could not remember as much as he tried how he came to find himself at the front door of his house, he managed to focus his eyes on the doorknob whilst it turned and as he entered t'was not what he expected but he would never be the same and he knew from that moment what a dreadful being he was. He would never forget the disappointment in his parent's eyes, the anger, the hurt and frustration. He would never forget the way his younger brother looked at him with disgust, disappointment and fury.

"Do you want to explain to me what you have done, Dean?!" the tone in his father's voice was exactly the same as a dagger perforating the flesh through his chest. "Winchesters are not dishonourable people!" the loud sound of his father's hand meeting the right side of his face mixed with the cry of his mother's voice calling for John's name, the frightened look on Sam's face and his own fear, disgust and loathe for himself was overwhelming, it perplexed him, he could not speak to save his very life, simply took his father's beating until he was told to get out of the room. "You think of what you have done." 'You disgust me,' was not necessary to say of John for the expression on John's face alleged it.

Dean closed his door in confusion as to how his parents had known what happened, his head throbbed, his chest ached but mostly, he was shattered; he could not control his emotions but he could neither weep tears caused by these intense emotions that hurt, hurt greatly that it became physical. If his parents knew and had reacted in such way, how would he face Castiel? He yearned to see him, even if the boy would look at him with the same look as his parents, even if he wished to see him no more, he had to at least explain well to him; he owed him this much.

"You've got nerve to show up here, Winchester." Michael's voice was far more dangerous than his father's had been yet not as hurtful, the hatred in his eyes seemed powerful enough to smite Dean.

"Please, I need to talk to Castiel."

"What makes you think he wants to see you? Have you not hurt him enough?"

"What? I- please, I need to explain, please." he heard the sound of footsteps approach to the door. "Gabriel, please…" he begged to his friend standing next to Michael.

"Why don't you get the fuck away, Dean?" another dagger ripping through Dean's heart.

"Please…" he almost whispered.

"I trusted you, Dean. I trusted you, you sick fuck." Dean heard as his nose cracked, felt the pain throughout him as it blinded his vision, felt the life pour out of him non-stop and he heard the door slam shut. He managed to stand on his feet as his vision cleared, the blood stained his hands down to his arms and shirt but he managed to stop the flow.

His knuckles turned white with the force he gripped the wheel of the Impala, his baby who would never hurt him, would never judge him, would never condemn him for his sins; his only comfort. The sun set on the horizon with a sadness in its feel, the red streaks intertwined with the deep blue similar to those eyes he'd betrayed looked down to him as he drove and drove as far as he could, where the road and the Impala would take him; somewhere far so his soul could agonise until its end.

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This was too emotional and I literally wept as I wrote it, I apologise for how much angst is included and how horrible this is but things will better soon.