Sincerely, Castiel

October 27, 1997

Dear Dean,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Things around here have been hectic. I've done some bad things, Dean... Some real bad things.

Remember that one time you caught me on the bathroom floor, bleeding out of my wrists? Then you told me to never do it again? Dean, I did it again.

I couldn't help it. The little pieces of metal were underneath the bathroom sink, and they were calling my name. I couldn't fight it. I let them get me.

You cried when you found me like that. It was 7 months after we started dating.

I was in the bathtub, my wrist lying on my thighs. The water started turning red. I didn't go too deep, but I went deep enough for bandages.

You walked in, whistling. The moment you saw me, your eyes turned into a dark green color. Your happy face turned to stone.

You didn't scream. You didn't even move for a few minutes. You just stared at me as I stared at you.

"Dean...," I cried, tears falling out of my eyes. You looked away and covered your mouth with your hand. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

I saw you shaking as you turned your back to me. "Dean!" I cried louder, trying to catch my breath in between sobs.

You turned around quickly. You slammed your body against the outside of the tub, and you leaned in so I could feel your breath on my face.

"Get out of the tub," you said with a deep voice.

I obeyed and quickly climbed out of the tub, wrapping a towel around my waist.

You took my hand, careful not to touch my wrists. Even though you were angry, you were still gentle.

You took me over to the bathroom sink. "Up," you said as you opened the cupboard and pulled out bandages and alcohol.

I hopped onto the counter, sitting down and slumping my shoulders.

You walked over to me and took my wrist in your hand. Your hands were covered blood, but you didn't seem to care.

You wiped away the blood and poured alcohol onto the fresh cuts. I watched you as you worked precisely.

After you finished, you took my hand again. You walked me to our bedroom, and you sat me down. You pulled out one of your band t shirts from the dresser we shared, and a pair of boxers.

You walked over to me and slipped the shirt over my head. I stood up and slid the boxers onto my legs.

You took off your shoes and got under the covers of our big bed. I got under too and faced you.

Your eyes were red, and I could see marks on your cheeks from tears you wiped away quickly.

You had your eyes closed, and you were shaking. I scooted closer.

You put your arm around my waist and weaved your legs into my legs. "Dean," I whispered, the scent of your hair wafting into my nose. "I love you."

That was the first time I had ever said those words. You sighed and whispered, "I love you too."

You pulled my chest closer to your chest, and then you tucked my head under your chin.

"Please don't ever do that again," you said. I felt one of your tears land in my still wet hair.

I just sighed and snuggled my face farther into your chest.

I sometimes wonder if you remember these things. This time I bandaged my own wounds. I didn't go as deep.

I'm scared my therapist or doctor is going to see them, and put me somewhere. I'm really scared, Dean.

You didn't have to go. You really didn't. You said you didn't have a choice, but you did.

You had a choice.

You could've stayed with me. Why didn't you?

Now I don't know where you are, and I'm mailing letters to random addresses.

I want you to come back.

Please come back.

Sincerely,
Castiel