Destiel One-Shots

Lay Me Down

Warning: non-graphic suicide

"Cas, you can't stay."

It sounds like a breakup. Like something you would tell your partner if you just couldn't be in a relationship anymore. Cas had never been in a relationship but he was positive this was even worse. Dean wanted him gone. It was to be assumed, it's not like he didn't guess this would happen. He is human, not much use like this. His only use to the Winchesters had ever been was his powers and now he knew for sure he had been correct.

Sure he had hoped the Dean might still care, that maybe he might pity him. That he might remember all the things he'd done for him and keep him around. But no, he was useless now. A useless person is not a person the Winchesters need in their life.

Cas felt himself crumbling as he looked at Dean. Silently pleading for him to take pity, to care about him just a little bit, let him stay. "Cas, I'm sorry. You can stay the night but then you got to go. I'll get you some money and a motel but then you got to go."

Cas felt tears start to well up in his eyes. Damn it. Of course this would happen. He couldn't even control his emotions. Weak. Pathetic. "Cas, say something, please don't cry," Dean let the sentence hang in the air as if Cas would say something. Was there anything left to say?

Cas just stood and pushed in his chair. He refused to look Dean. He wanted to remember Dean with a look of adoration on his face. He wanted to remember care and even... love on his face. Not this, not rejection and disgust at how we a be had become.

"I understand, Dean. I will go to my room and start packing. It's not much just a few things it can fit in a backpack."

Cas could feel Dean watching him leave. "You already unpacked?"

Cas stopped mid step, his back turned to Dean. "I was planning on staying here forever." Cas left without another word. He walked silently to his room. Shoved his hoodie, tooth brush, few other things Sam had given him into his pack. The last things he had was his angel blade. Cas's hand hovered over the bookbag holding his blade. He moved his hand back. He was worthless.

He sat down on the bed staring at blade. It would be less of shock dying this time around. If he knew he was the one to cause it, completely in control. He had seen plenty of souls do this to themselves before entering heaven. Two cuts on each wrist and then nothing. He was worthless, he told himself again as he rolled up his sleeves. He wouldn't go to heaven, he told himself as he picked up the blade.

It didn't hurt as much as he guessed it would. It was easy, he could already feel himself getting tired and it only been a minute or two. It was almost over now, Cas thought with a smile.

"Cas," a voiced called out. Cas heard it in the distances, like he was miles underwater. There was knocking on the door, then pounding, then the door flew open. Cas felt someone touching his wrists. They were trying to stop the bleeding. Cas wanted to tell them to stop. "Sammy!" the voice shouted. "Come now!" It was too late. He was sinking, it was peaceful like this.

The first thing Cas notices upon waking is the bed. It's warm, it smells familiar for some reason like a memory. Cas opens his eyes slowly, looking around confused. He was in Dean's room, in his bed. Why would he be-

It hit Cas like a pile bricks. He tried to kill himself. Oh god, someone saved him, Dean. Cas pulled his arms out from under the covers, they were wrapped tightly. Cas felt tears well in eyes. Now they know he's weak. Not only did he try to kill himself he couldn't even get the job done. Cas's head snapped up when the door opened, Dean walked in. Dean's eyes widened when he saw Cas. Cas stared back waiting for something. Dean to voice how pathetic he was for trying to kill himself. Tell him how worthless he is. Shove his pack into his hands and shove him out of the bunker for good. Punch him in the face. Maybe all of them.

What he wasn't expecting was Dean to walk over and sit next to him on the bed. He was so close he could feel his heat even through the covers. He moved his eyes from the hunters face to the ceiling. He didn't want to do this anymore.

The silence dripped on for what seemed like years but was probably only a few seconds. A question cut through the air like an angel blade to someone's wrists. "Why?"

"Because I'm tired," came the quick response. Silence again. A lot can be said in silence, maybe even more than words can say. Cas heard it loud and clear.

The silence whispered, time to go.

"I'll be leaving, thank you for wrapping my wrists. They will heal in a few days, I expect." Cas moved his legs to the side of the bed, his back to Dean's. He waited a second before standing praying Dean would say something.

Silence again spoke again on his behalf, pathetic.

Cas moved to the door slowly, Dean never made a sound. He opened the door and left closing it behind him. The click of the door sounded too loud. It sounded like a goodbye, an end. It was, wasn't it?

Cas moved quickly to his room, pulling on his hoodie and making sure the sleeves were completely down. He swung his pack on and made his way out. He never really was a lucky person because just as he was about to climb to steps a voice stopped him.

"Cas, where are you going?"

He turned to look at the tall man, Sam was always kind to him. He wouldn't forget that. The thought made him smile. "I was asked to leave, goodbye," he said turning around before a hand spun him around.

"What the fuck are you talking back? Cas you're...hurt," his eyes darting quickly to his wrists. "I don't know why you think you need to leave?"

Ah, Dean had told Sam it was Cas's choice to leave. His own free will. "It's fine Sam, tell Dean goodbye for me."

Cas climbed the stairs, before leaving he gave the bunker one last look. It was warm and calm. It screamed home. He gave Sam one last smile who was staring at him from the bottom of the steps.

The first step outside was the hardest. It was a simple choice of which way to walk. He picked the right, and so he walked. He got a cab, told him to drive straight. He ended up outside the state and hungry.

He sat under a bridge alone and pulled up his sleeves. He unwrapped his wrists and looked at the screaming marks. The silence crept in. It was so sinister this time. The things it said made tears well in his eyes. He agreed with the silence as he pulled out his blade and finished what he started. He didn't fail this time.

As he slipped under the water he could only smile as memories flashed by his minds eye before picking one. A set of green eyes.

Dean's door finally swung open after two days.

"He's fucking gone and you don't care? He could be dead! He could have killed himself for real this time! Do you not even care? Did you ever?"

Dean just pulled the covers closer to his tear stained face, he knew everything Sam said was right. But he had to save Sam. He had to.

"He was worthless now."