A/N: Thanks again for reading friends! I'm so glad you all like it! I just want to say that while all the flashbacks seem scattered and with no pattern they are the way they are for a reason, it will all come together.

This chapter begins and deals heavily with Castiel having a mental break of sort, his head is very scattered and such. It happens a lot with things like PTSD and Dissociation. So let me know if you guys like it.

I decided to have Dean end this chapter so yey we get to see a bit into Dean's POV! That's always fun! But do keep in mind I have a hard time writing Dean, he's such a complex person, and I realize he's very OOC. So go light on that perhaps? ;n; But I think it's crucial to introduce him as character since he will be a big part of the story!

I am copying from A03 so formatting may be wonky!

again ITALICS contain GRAPHIC CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE

Castiel would be turning twelve soon, but he have no energy to celebrate it even if he wanted to. No. He could feel how weak his bones were. How they protruded from every part of him, so emaciated that the flesh looked as if it would pop open and reveal ligaments. His father had not allowed him to eat and even if he had Castiel would not have felt he could, the pills being pumped into his system kept anything in his stomach from even staying. So he kept in he and his father's bed till he would be requested for something. It was around nine o'clock that Castiel was laying in mind numbing silence, startled by the voice of his father who'd apparently been standing there for a while. His eyes were laced with mock concern as he slid into bed next to the young boy, gathering him up in his arms. 'I'm doing my best with you angel, if you stay right here with me you'll be okay' he whispered close to Castiel's ear, his voice sliding in like thick syrup, coating his brain. He doesn't answer, just continues to stare at the wall, he doesn't feel like his mouth can work. The last time he'd asked his father if he could go out with his brothers he'd gotten violent, describing to Castiel in detail what would happen to him if he left; that someone would take him and lock him up, make him bleed and that he wouldn't come to save him. So Castiel stayed in his room, next to his father, safe. Things had changed though, he always felt like something was scraping, sliding from his fingers, just out of his reach, perhaps his sanity, being pulled further and further away. 'Castiel. You're in your head too much. Stop that' His shoulder was jerked and he'd been turned to face his father, 'sorry daddy.' His eyes soften and he reached down, pulling Castiel's shirt up, his body moving with it in pliancy. Hands massage their way up his small torso, lips reaching down and smattering kisses all over his sides and chest, teeth flicking over his nipples. 'You always do all the work baby' Castiel felt a faint tingle of apprehension tickle the back of his brain, turning his eyes to watch, to listen, 'and you seem so sad' he dropped his hands to clutch the elastic of Castiel's pants. 'Let daddy make you happy baby' Castiel's head dizzied, he's not used to things changing. He doesn't like things to change. He doesn't want them to. What else did he have to control? 'No, no, shhh, trust me angel, it'll feel great. Now that you're older. You deserve this.' He was naked, this wasn't new. His father was wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping like he usually had Castiel do to him. His father had touched him down there before, but his body had never responded like this; his little prick swelling at the ministrations. He remembered what his father had done the last time his member had gotten hard. Castiel panicked, getting up on his elbows and shaking his head, 'No, daddy please-' he was hushed by lips on his, tongue assaulting his throat, 'All work and no play makes Castiel a sad boy,' His father smirked and moved down, poking his tongue out to run his tongue across the head of Castiel's penis, stopping only when Castiel fell back, a moan spilled from his lips; his tongue continued after that, lapping all the way up his shaft. Castiel felt heat rise all over his body, coiling deep in his stomach, making his head spin and there was a niggle feeling in his brain, a thrumming of pleasure. But he could, too, feel the fear that seeded too, while he was still able to form his own thoughts; if he enjoyed this, he'd be just like his father. 'Wait-I don't-please' Castiel was unable to form a coherent sentence as his father took him in his mouth fully, the tunnel of wetness agitating his twitching prick more, "Please" he grunted out the word out, unsure of the meaning, to continue? To stop? His father moved quickly, running his tongue across his shaft, taking the small child easily, the grunts and moans coaxed him faster. "Dad…" Castiel meant it as a plead, but it merely sounded like a desperate whine. Castiel quickly felt himself coming undone, his legs shaking beside his father's head, breath coming out in short bursts and stomach heating up more and more. He could feel it tightening his dick, like he was going to go to the bathroom, he threw his head back, too clouded to feel the disgust that lay dormant in him, the suctioning motion feeling as if it's pulling something straight out of him. He needed to warn his father, he needed a bathroom and quickly, 'D-dad! I-I'm gonna pee!' He tried to pull away, but his father held his hips down, going harder until Castiel yelped out and felt the coiled heat unfurl straight into his father's mouth. His body shook with the foreignness of the feeling; thick and sticky, shooting straight out of him. He threw an arm over his eyes, panting rough, limbs tired with the force of his trembling. His body vibrated with energy, crackling throughout his skin, blood rushing back and forth, back and forth. 'Didn't that feel so good baby?' A smirk, a knowing glint. His father kissed his lips, salty, sticky...him. Castiel pushed the wonderful feeling from his brain, eyes widened with horror, curling on his side. He'd enjoyed it. Just like his father. It had felt good. 'No' Castiel whispered, wrapping his arms around his stomach and shaking his head. He could never allow himself to be with somebody after this, could never allow someone to get close, unless he wanted to hurt them in such a way. He was a horrible person. He was just like his father.

Castiel remembers the first time he'd ever gotten food poisoning. Of course he'd been sick millions of times before that with his father's false illnesses, but he'd never truly been sick until then. Michael had just taken over being their guardian, he was twenty, he was scared, and he sucked at cooking. The food hadn't been done enough and Castiel's stomach had decided to reject it immediately.

He doesn't even remember what kind of food it was, just that it felt heavy in his stomach. Thick and rotted. He'd moaned and groaned, curling up on the floor, much to brother's chagrin, until he felt it push back up the way it'd entered. He had never been so relieved to puke in his entire life.

Nonetheless, it was the feeling he ultimately recalls, because that's exactly how he felt now. Lying in his bed with Dean on the floor beside him, but it was Dean's actions, Dean's words, all sitting thick and rotted in his stomach. Castiel wants nothing more than to purge them right then and there. Dean was supposed to be good. Dean was good.

Castiel could feel Dean's lips on his own, but then they were his father's, chapped and heavy. He replays the phantom touch of Dean's harmless fingers over and over until his face morphed into something more recognizable. Father. Castiel shifts under his sheets, peering down at the sleeping face of Dean until his features became blurred and mixed together.

He is sixteen. No he is five years old.

Castiel can't remember any more. Why is father on the floor? Castiel is baffled. When had Dean gotten here?

All of his thoughts and memories smudge together and crash around in his head, mashing up and remixing. First it was Dean then it was his father. What was real?

Castiel quickly stands up, stumbling to the bathroom, brushing his teeth two times. Padding quietly back out, he perches on his bed for only moments before he returns to the bathroom and brushes his teeth once again; he spits up blood the fifth time.

He ducks his head away from the mirror as he washes his hands, the water steams and blisters his palms, but he keeps rubbing them. Back and forth. Back and forth.

'You should always clean your hands like this Castiel. Five rubs'

The next time Castiel finds himself in the bathroom he can't avoid the mirror, looking deep into his own eyes, scared of who he is staring at because surely that isn't me? He can see stubble growing on his chin, as he frantically reaches for a razor, smothering his face with cream and making sure he can't see one patch.

'We need to get all this nasty hair off that pretty little body Castiel. I don't like it.'

He hurriedly sets the stick down, dabbing at a cut on his face, he wonders if his father will want him to shave his cock too. He especially hated hair there.

'You're growing up too fast baby.'

Castiel pokes his stomach, loathe to look directly at his reflection as he does. He's gaining weight. His stomach is full of empty promises and decaying touches. He leans over the toilet and tries to urge himself to vomit them up.

'You're gaining too much weight. I can't let you eat for a few weeks angel'

Nothing happens. He thinks he hears rustling in his room. Or maybe not.

'Look how big you're getting down here Castiel! Your cock is so beautiful'

He cups the front of his pants, feeling himself through the flimsy fabric, only catching one more glimpse of himself in the mirror before he's scribbling over it with a fat sharpie. Covering it completely with black, the smell making his head spin. Now he looks at it and sees nothing but darkness. The darkness from his body. The mirror finally understands him. He feels bad for the mirror. "I'm sorry."

He wants to turn the lights on. The lights are on.

'If you spent less time in that damn bathroom we wouldn't have to do this so quickly. Now hurry!'

Castiel whimpers, his father is waiting for him, he's taking entirely too long. "I should hurry" he speaks aloud to the blackened mirror, rubbing his face to make sure it's free of hair. His father will expect him to strip and wait for him on the bed, he cannot be late, lest he wants to upset him. Castiel's feet are slippery and the walls around him vibrate as he walks out. He smiles to himself because he thinks he hears his brothers outside playing. That's nice. They deserve to have some fun.

'I know you want to go out with your brothers, but daddy can play with you. You like when we play Castiel'

The room is pitch dark when he finally makes it, which is weird because the bathroom is in the room so it shouldn't have felt like he'd walked the length of a football field. He stands at the end of his bed and listens to the silent command. Strip. As if he needs to be reminded. That was always the first rule.

He pulls his shirt off first, lamely folding it and setting it aside, then with his pants, careful not to wrinkle them. As his flesh hits the raw air he's surprised not to feel cold or hot. There's no distinguishing temperature to be had, just a strange pulsing that resonates over his flesh. Tingles. He sits on the edge of the bed waiting for his father to instruct him. Will he want pictures?

'Stay right there, just like that angel. Now smile'

Will he want Castiel to touch himself while he watches?

'Spread your legs Castiel, farther so I can see. That's my boy'

Or will he just want to jump right into it, no getting ready.

'Don't scream. Don't you dare scream.'

Castiel folds his hands in his lap, pondering what they will be doing. What games they will be playing tonight. It's taking him such a long time though, Castiel feels his chest quiver a tad. He shifts his eyes to the floor, the body on the floor.

Why is father on the floor?

Sandy hair and freckles assault his vision. Blinding light. Stars. Galaxies, fill his thoughts. Dean. The sour feeling in his stomach returns, thick with dead hope. His mind feels like it's shoving, trying to get rid of the other side, the two at war with each other. At war with what's real and what's not.

When did Dean get here? Why is father on the floor?

The two sides crash violently, causing a terrible ringing to surface and reverberate throughout his eardrums, causing him to throw his hands over his ears.

Dean is here. Father is coming.

He catches flashes of him and Dean's earlier conversation. He feels an onslaught of adoration for emerald eyes, twinkling with the essence of heaven itself. His mind doesn't allow the incident from earlier to resurface so he just basks in everything good that Dean has done for him, bringing back to himself how complete Dean had made him feel.

'You're a mystery Castiel Novak'

He can't stifle the yelp that falls from his lips, shocked, wide eyed, as he listens to the new voice in his head. Never had he heard another voice able to break through the barriers. He doesn't hear the rustling of sheets in his surprise.

"Castiel?" That voice. That voice again. But it didn't sound like it was in his head any longer, and he whimpers out, afraid it escaped from his ears, never to return. Don't leave me alone.

Castiel's eyes fly open to a figure in front of him, spluttering out noises that bounce around his ears, but never really enter; he doesn't realize who it is in front of him, trying desperately to shake him from his stupor.

Castiel continues to wait patiently for his father until the lamp beside his bed is flicked on and he's, too violently, thrust back into reality.

The first thing he perceives is that it's cold. Freezing actually. His arms are shaking and his legs feel like they're paralyzed. The next is how close Dean Winchester is, his eyes full of worry and confusion. For a moment Castiel thinks Dean Winchester might be God, looking down on him questionably. His eyes widen, I've been friends with god this whole time?

"Cas man, you're really scaring me, what's going on?"

Those are the first real words that make their way into his ears as he shakes his head before glancing all around. He can hear the crickets chirping, the windows are blackened; it's night. He furrows his eyebrows, desperately trying to listen for his brother's laughter again. He feels a hand pat his face before he turns back, looking up at the forest and then down at himself, he's naked. "D-Dean?" It's the first real word he's spoken in what feels like years, his tongue is thick and swollen in his mouth as he chokes it out.

"Yeah it's me Cas. What's going on? Why are you...naked?" He sounds embarrassed. He shouldn't be embarrassed.

'Don't be ashamed Castiel, stand here, in front of the mirror, look at your pretty skin'

Castiel swallows hard as fingers are snapping in front of his face, "You gotta stop that Cas, your mind is going somewhere and it's freaking me out." Dean tries to coax him to stay in reality. Castiel feels a pressure on his hand, looking down to see Dean's holding it with his own. He doesn't feel the same blinding light this time though, doesn't feel his brightened soul beating its way into his darkened body, no, he merely feels, content.

"I was waiting for him. Like he asked me to." Castiel informs Dean plainly, because he deserves to know the truth. Dean looks around, as if he's waiting for someone to burst out of the closet at any moment, nothing of the sort happens though. "W-Who are you talking about Cas? It's just us. Nobody else" Dean squeezes his hand as if to make him feel the words. Castiel swallows hard.

He is five years old. No he is sixteen.

Castiel looks into Dean's green eyes, really looks into them, because suddenly they are the only connection he has to the real world, the only line from what is fabricated and what is authentic. They're his lifeline. He cannot look away, because, if he does, he knows he'd be swallowed back up, that he'd continue waiting for his father to come until he falls over dead.

Dean looks back with the same intensity, holding his hand as if keeping him from falling back into the abyss, moving slowly, a blur of lines and sharpened colors. None of it makes sense. Dean moves around to gather Castiel's clothes, not once peeling his eyes away, just returning the gaze, moving his hand away merely to clutch the articles of clothing.

"I am naked" Castiel states. Dean nods. Castiel feels a part of him redden and want to recoil back into itself, but that is quickly stuffed away. Dean helps Castiel put his shirt on, moving his pliant and soft limbs to shimmy into the shirt, pulling his sweats up to a point and then instructing Castiel to put them on the rest of the way.

Dean's hands still send tiny jolts of electricity throughout his deadened skin, and he can't help but feel the longing for Dean's approval wash throughout his being. Perhaps it's because he's sitting on the bed where he had received the most attention. Perhaps it was the way Dean handled him with such care and precision, as if he would shatter at the slightest touch. What ever it is, Castiel relishes in it, tries to focus purely on that.

"There you are buddy. It's cold. Can't have you shivering like that again," Dean is smiling up at him and Castiel finds his own lips tugging even though he barely understands the words that spill from his lips. Castiel wondrously looks Dean over, a thought catching on and spilling from his mouth before he can even really think about it. But, Castiel's vision is starting to waver dangerously and nothing feels particularly real again.

"Are your bones heavy with carrying around the galaxies Dean? What about your heart? It surely has to get tired from holding the universe Dean."

Dean still has that smile on his face, but Castiel thinks it looks sad, he doesn't want Dean to be sad. But his lips are too slippery to move and tell him this sentiment. His bones are missing as Dean guides his body to lay down, covering him with his quilt and patting his hair.

"Sure thing bud. Now get some rest."

-x-

Dean does not sleep for the rest of the night. He sits on Castiel's bed for a while, making sure he's fallen asleep, then tosses and turns, getting up every hour or so to check on the raven haired boy.

The first thing he feels is shock, shock at seeing Castiel so… unhinged, speaking and staring into the distance as if not even in his own mind. Then he felt anger, anger towards himself for quite possibly being the one who pushed Castiel to such a state, the way he'd stupidly kissed him. And finally sadness, sadness deep within him that tells him this may not be the first time Castiel's acted like this.

Sadness because Castiel isn't just scared, he is traumatized.

Something had been so horrific that it had literally gone in and rewired the boys brain, had set up those reactions to things as innocent as a kiss. Dean closes his eyes trying to will away the onslaught of images, all the things he'd been missing, like the flinches at physical contact, the way he rushes through a crowd, how secretive and overprotective his brothers are or really just the way Castiel's eyes would go absolutely empty at random times.

God, Dean thought, how could I be so stupid?

He wishes he could know exactly what has happened to Castiel to leave him so… shattered, but he knows he would never be able to outright ask him, lest he want another breakdown like that. He shudders. He hopes he never has to experience something like that again

He could very well ask Gabriel, but, somewhere inside of Dean tells him that he might not able to handle the truth. He looks over at the small body on the bed, feeling his heart beat with affection, with the need to protect as he'd done with Sammy for most of his life. Castiel had a brilliant light hidden somewhere underneath all the muck and memories, Dean was sure of it.

He smiles within himself, he was going to try to help Castiel, whatever way he could, and he was going to get Castiel on the path of healing. But first he would have to speak with Gabriel.

So he waits until the sun is barely peaking over the horizon, checking on Castiel one last time before exiting the room and going into Gabriel's, snorting when he sees his little brother splayed out over the side of the air mattress with Gabriel beside him. "Wake up you dunce" he pokes Gabriel with his toe, making him jerk awake and roll off of the air filled thing, "What the hell Dean, it's like" he squints his eyes, looking around, finding the bright red numbers, "It's before 9 friggin am if this isn't good you're going to wake up very confused in some alternate dimension the next time you shut your eyes" he growls, Dean laughs, because what kind of threat is that?

He finishes his laughter and kneels down, Sam still snoring beside them, "No. It's about Castiel" Gabriel shoots up, eyes boring into him frantically, "What is it? Is something wrong? Is he okay?" Dean is taken aback by his reaction, placing his hand on Gabriel's shoulders, "Chill man. No. I just wanted to ask you a few things." Gabriel seems to visibly relax, sagging on his bed with a groan, "Deaaaaan, I hate you." There's no real malice as Dean laughs, "Seriously though man, Castiel, what's wrong with him," that is not what Dean had wanted to ask at all, but he always had a tendency of vomiting words without thinking them through, Gabriel eyes shoot open and he growls defensively, "There's nothing wrong with him! Shut your mouth! Don't talk about him like that!"

Dean shakes his head, "No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! That came out totally wrong… shit" How could he word this to sound appropriate? "I mean is he like- does he-fuck- I mean… like" he groans and licks his lips, he's never been good at these kind of things. "Did something happen to him?" Very suddenly the room darkens, Gabriel's eyes fall and Dean feels too exposed, tension crackles in the air. Gabriel's jaw is clenched tight, the way he's staring at the floor could burn holes straight through it, he looks angry, but also very sad, and Dean instantly feels like shit. Of course this would happen if he tried to talk about feelings.

"I'd like you to let me sleep now Dean. Thank you" Gabriel finally says, settling onto his bed, turning his back, "But-" Dean starts, but is cut off, "Please." It's desperate, it's a plea, and Dean can't help but back out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Now he's more curious and confused than ever, he could try to ask Michael but that might not go over well since he wasn't too close with him and Lucifer was totally off limits, Dean remembers Gabriel telling him how protective he is over Castiel.

Dean ponders as he walks back to Castiel's room, they didn't have any parents that he knew of, Gabriel had always tried to steer the conversation away from that topic as soon as it was brought up. Dean cursed mentally, how could he help what he didn't know? Should he try to ask Castiel? Perhaps it would make Castiel feel better to talk about it. Maybe Dean could listen and try to help him through it.

When he enters the bedroom, he stops at movement, watching as Castiel bunches up some his sheets and throws them in the closet, his pajama pants changed, Dean is confused at his actions but chooses to ignore them for now, making a noise so Castiel would know he entered; he swings around frantically anyway, his eyes wide with fear but calming a little when seeing it was he. Dean smiled and sat down on the now bare bed, looking over at him seriously. It was now or never.

"Hey Cas, can I ask you something?"

'You are so ungrateful, you little brat. Who are you to deny me anything?' Castiel cowered on the floor, wedged between their bed and the desk, his entire body shaking with fear. His father had a bad day at work, Michael and Lucifer had ganged up on him and to put all the pieces together Castiel had not wanted to play with any of his toys. Castiel did not like his father's toys, they were large and they hurt too bad, leaving him not able to sit for days, not only that but his father would always croon in his ear, telling him how one day it would be his dick inside of him. His was so much bigger, Castiel thought it would rip him right open. 'You should be thankful for what I do for you Castiel! I keep you healthy, I keep you safe, I give you my heart. You are ungrateful! You don't deserve anything and yet I give you everything!' Castiel held his hands over his head, hoping his father would not strike him; he knew he should be thankful like his father said, but he was just so scared, 'are you going to say anything you little shit?' He knelt down in front of the small boy, anger radiating from his aura; Castiel felt his throat constrict, 'I-I'm sorry daddy, p-please don't be mad at-' the force of his hand across Castiel's face made his eyes water and body jerk, but he was unable to cry out before he was jerked up, 'I'll show you what bad boys get!' Castiel was marched toward the bed, but found the fear more overpowering, his father would be so much angrier now, trying to run towards the bathroom. 'Don't. You. Dare. Walk away from me young man or I'll make you wish you hadn't' his voice was dangerous, his voice promised pain. Castiel stopped dead on his feet, feeling a hand tighten around the back of his neck in his lapse, his body forcefully shoved over the slightly raised footboard; his hands flying out to steady himself as his pants were literally torn from his body. 'Please I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry' Castiel sobbed, hiding his face in the crook of his arm as his father held the back of his neck down, grumbling as he reached inside his 'special' box and pulled out a large sex toy, 'Ungrateful boy. Such a bad, bad boy.' Castiel felt tears as they spilt down his face, he had made the only person who loved him angry with him. 'See if you can run away from me after this' It was challenge, a threat, a promise. His father raised his bottom to his liking and, without preparation, shoved the dildo straight into Castiel, smirking at the choked scream that filled the room, 'this is what you deserve, Castiel, for being such a bad boy,' Castiel tried to tell himself that, as he felt it buried to the hilt inside of him, tried to remind himself that he deserved this for being so ungrateful. That this was his penance. His father was merely trying to help him. But his head was filled with nothing but pain as the toy was shoved in and out. 'You deserve this Castiel. Do you understand me? I want to hear you say it' Castiel is biting down on his lip too hard to respond, that was until the thing was shoved impossibly deeper and twisted, 'I said say it Castiel!' Castiel opened his mouth a few times before he could form cohesive words, 'I-I deserve this!' choked out and small, 'Why? Tell me why Castiel' he felt something inside of him tear, white, hot, burning pain throughout his abdomen; his legs shook violently. 'B-because I'm a bad boy! I deserve this because I'm bad!' His father mercifully slowed down, stopped with the twisting motions, just pumping it back and forth for a while longer before just leaving the thick thing inside him. 'That's right. Now I hope you've learned your lesson young man' His father was knelt beside him, gripping his chin, looking into his watery blue eyes, 'I hate punishing you angel' his voice was gruff, there was no remorse, 'But I-I do so much for you, you need to understand.' Castiel nodded hard, sniffling, just wanted the large thing out from pressing at the horrible pain. 'I un-understand daddy' the older man smiled, patting his head, reaching back and taking the toy out, making a strange sound at seeing the thing covered in blood, 'shit' it was muttered but Castiel still felt fear rise within him, feeling something thick ooze from his bottom, 'Okay, just, here, lay down, up here, let me go get a washcloth' Castiel cried out as he was handled onto the bed, quickly folding into fetal position, the pain unbearable. He reached back behind himself, feeling a jolt of pain before bringing his hand back up, dark with blood. As he heard the footsteps of his father he quickly shut his eyes, lips moved in a ghost of a whisper, 'I deserve this. I deserve this.'

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