The Hunt of Love

Your Mess is Mine

Cas's POV
"Dean, I... I need a minute." I got up and went into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I grabbed the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it off, dropping it onto the counter and staring at the mirror. My eyes traced every new bruise and scar that appeared on my torso and arms. Then my eyes traced over every bruise that had faded with time, every gash or cut that had healed long ago, every 'favorite spot' that would be discolored and swollen at the end of the week that now took on their natural tone, every black eye or gash across my cheek that I had hidden with makeup that seemed absent now. I remembered Balthazar's words, that I would eventually go crawling back to him because nobody wants a broken toy.
I looked at my figure and thought back to when I had stared at the figure that was practically skin and bones, shaking with bruises and sadness, and holding a knife to my own throat. I ran my hand over the mark that should've been there, that I should've cut. I thought to when Balth burst into the room and took the knife from me, shoving me against the counter and keeping a close watch on me afterwards because 'toys shouldn't break themselves'. I remembered the restless nights where I tried to plan an escape, but every morning I only wished for death thinking that there would be nothing better waiting for me. I remember the great many trips to get medicine of all kinds. Advil, depression meds, morphine and practically anything else to stop the pain.
Now I stared at my reflection that was turning into the bruised and scarred body that shook with weak bones and tattered scars. I looked at all the old scars and marks that came from him that would remain forever on my body, to serve as a reminder of who I would always belong to. I looked at the initials that were carved into my side with a hot iron and knife. I looked away from my body and up to my eyes that looked worn with everything and dreadfully dull. I washed my face then stepped back thinking about what to do. Do I let Dean see this? See me? Broken and beaten? Or do I just keep it hidden? I folded my arms over my chest, trying to cover myself until I realized who it was that I was showing this and ended up fiddling with my thumbs in front of me.
"Dean can you... Can you please come in here?" I heard the bed squeak a little and Dean opened the door, peaking around the corner then entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. "I'm sorry I said no before but I guess I should show you."
"It's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to."
"But I want to, otherwise I feel like I'm claimed by him." Dean seemed to perk up on the last part and he stepped over to me as I stood next to the tub.
"Can I?" I nodded and he looked at my chest and back and stomach, my arms and neck. He easily spotted the new marks and also the old ones, everything was moderately okay until he saw the initials carved into my side. He stepped back in front of me, cupping my face with his hands and kissing my forehead, letting me let out a sigh of relief. "He's never going to hurt you again."
I kissed Dean then pulled back on my sweatshirt.
"I... We don't have to tell your mom about this do we?" He nodded no and then gently picked me up, carrying me out of the bathroom and put me on the bed where a bowl of soup and a sandwich sat.
"Now come on, I think you've procrastinated eating long enough."
   And we sat there peacefully enjoying the meal until the pain of my new wounds came back and I leaned back, taking a deep breath as breathing started to hurt. He looked up at me concerned.
   "Hey, babe you alright?"
  "It's my um... It's the wounds and my lungs. I can't breathe." Dean seemed to mentally go over something before murmuring 'shit' under his breath and grabbing a bottle of pain meds from his bedside drawer. He read the label of it then dropped the bottle onto the floor as I could only get in short small breaths. He got up quickly, picking me up with one arm under my legs and the other supporting the back of my neck. I turned my face towards him as he ran out of the room and down the hall, taking a few rights and lefts until he burst back into the hospital room.
   "Mary! I need help over here!" The woman who had coaxed me through shifting when I first got here ran over, pulling Dean towards an empty bed where she made Dean set me on the bed. She began flitting about finding this and that.
   "Dean what happened?"
   "Everything was alright until he said his pain came back except he couldn't breathe and it got worse in a matter of seconds. I read the bottle and think that maybe he had a cracked rib that we might've missed and with how much he moved after that it may have broken."
   "Alright I've got to get a nurse or two over here and Dean, you need to leave."
   "I'm not leaving."
   "Dean. You need to leave." And he left, I struggled for breath and Mary placed a mask over my face so I wasn't struggling as much. She yelled for two different people who rushed over then she carefully placed her stethoscope over my chest, moving it around until she found something and yelled again for the nurses. The next thing I knew a needle was stuck in my arm and my world went dark.