Supernatural High [Destiel and Sabriel High School AU]

Chapter 37

Dean was not in a good place. Days came. Days went. He didn't know the difference. He kept the blinds in his room at Bobby's house closed, blocking out all natural light. More often than not, he didn't know if it was night or day outside. He didn't leave his room; the only one he saw was Bobby when the old hunter came up and gave him food, sometimes yelling at him until Dean ate. Cas visited throughout the week, or at least that was what Bobby had said. Bobby was the only one allowed in Dean's room – even Sam was forbidden to enter. Dean didn't want Sammy to see him like this . . . and he sure as hell didn't want Cas to.

In truth, Dean Winchester wanted nothing more than to tell Bobby to send Cas up to his room. He wanted to pull his angel into a hug and never let him go. He wanted to break down and sob into Cas's chest as the angel held him tightly and sang their song. I can't help falling in love with you. The words repeated in Dean's head – the night of Homecoming, the dance, the kiss in the Impala. It was all so surreal – like a dream. He had a hard time believing it had even happened. How could something so perfect and pure take place in a world as cruel and demented as this? John was dead. His father was dead. How could he think about being happy with Cas? He didn't deserve to feel the happiness and the relief that struck him whenever he looked into Cas's crystalline eyes.

Even though Dean knew that it wasn't his fault – that deep down it was going to happen anyway – he still felt like he should have stopped it. If I had gotten my shit together and killed Lilith at Homecoming.

If I had been a better hunter . . .

If I had protected my family like dad always told me . . .

If . . . If . . .

These thoughts swarmed his head, torturing him all week. However, on Friday, Dean decided it was time to do something other than sit in his room and feel sorry for himself. Stop being a bitch, Winchester, Dean thought darkly. That morning, he ventured out of his bedroom. He went downstairs to find Bobby sitting at the kitchen table. He looked tired; there were bags under his eyes and his beard getting scraggly and unruly. Dean watched from the doorway as Bobby poured whiskey into his coffee. He gulped it down then, not pausing once to take a breath.

"Bobby?" Dean called, clearing his throat.

The old under put down his cup swiftly, coughing. "Dean," he stated, looking at the boy. Dean thought he saw Bobby's eyes glisten with tears for a moment Bobby got up and embraced him, wrapping Dean up in a tight bear-hug. "Good to have you back, boy."

Dean didn't reply to that. "Where's Sam?"

Bobby nodded toward the stairs. "Up in his room, I think. He doesn't come down until noon, usually."

"Well, I'm gonna go weak his ass up," Dean said, forcing a smile.

He swore he saw tears in Bobby's eyes again, but didn't dwell on it. Dean went upstairs to Sam's room and knocked on the closed door. When there was no response from within, Dean threw open the door with a bang. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

The younger Winchester leapt up in his bed. His fists were wildly swinging and his chest was heaving. Sam looked around, alarmed, before his eyes settled on his brother. "Dean?" His hazel eyes were wide with confusion. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No," Dean answered. "Just wanted to wake you up." He went over and sat on the bed beside him. His smile that had been plastered on his face died. Dean sighed and looked at Sam seriously. "How are you?"