Destiel One Shots

106. Zero Days Clean (‼️Trigger Warning‼️)

Castiel was troubled. All his life he was troubled. Dean, his boyfriend, knew this. He's had to talk him out of a few things. Castiel felt like a lost cause. He thought no one could help him. Even with Dean, he felt hopeless. It helped to have him, of course, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew he was too far gone.

One night, very late, Dean received a phone call. It was Castiel. "Hello?" He answered, his voice rough from his interrupted sleep.

"Dean," Castiel spoke gruffly. "Can you... please come over?" And he hung up.

Dean became worried. He didn't know what to expect, but it was almost three in the morning. It couldn't be good.

He lived twenty minutes away, so it didn't take too long to get there. Especially since he sprinted as fast as he could. He would have taken his car, but it was rather noisy and most likely would have awoken Castiel's parents.

Dean climbed in through his window, as he usually did, into the dark room. "Cas?" He called in a hushed whisper.

"Dean," Cas replied, voice trembling. "I... I'm sorry. I... I hate myself for what I did."

Dean knew exactly what he meant but couldn't bear to believe it. "What did you do?" He asked, his voice breaking.

"I think you know." With that, the light was turned on, Dean blinking at the sudden brightness. What he saw shook him to his very core.

Cas's hand was at the light switch, his bloody arm visible, as well as the bleeding wound; an inch long vertical cut, accompanied by several smaller horizontal cuts, not to mention several scars from previous years of self harm. There was drops of blood on the floor; most of it at the corner of his bed, and a small trail leading to the wall where Cas stood. In his other hand was a small razor.

Dean felt sick. He felt physically sick. Never had he seen Cas go so far, and it wasn't a pleasant sight. "Cas...." Not much else could be said. "Cas, I...."

"I know I'm disgusting. You don't have to say it." He looked away in shame, clearly regretting what he'd done.

Dean stared at his fresh wounds in disbelief. He knew Cas was in a lot of pain lately, but this was really bad. "You're not disgusting. Not at all. The exact opposite, actually. You're everything to me." His voice shook as he stared at the blood. All that blood.

"Look at me, Dean. I'm not anything. Just a fresh cut, bleeding out on the earth. Just let me die so I can become a scab that the world can peel off its skin."

Sometimes Dean couldn't stand his poet boyfriend. Especially now, when he's saying bullshit like this. "I'm not going to leave you."

Cas scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "I really wonder what's going through your head sometimes. Especially right now, while you're staring. Staring at the blade. The cuts. The blood. Do you love me? Do you hate me? Do you want me to get it over with and cut deeper?" He glanced at the vertical wound. "I mean, I really could've done this better, I mean really. Look at this, it barely scratches the surface."

"And that's why you're so strong to me." Cas laughed slightly at that until Dean continued. "Yeah, this is prevalent right now, the cutting, but you haven't cut it deep enough to... that's why I think you're being strong. At least as strong as you can be right now. I mean... I probably sound like a jerk, I know, but... to me, you still being here right now... alive... that's strength. Whatever's getting you through the day, however your day is going... to me, that is strength. And I know you probably don't see it that way, but... you're braver than you seem, stronger than you believe, and smarter than you think."

Cas appreciated the sentiment, but it was just too much for him. "Dean... I...." The crimson river gushing from his arm was too much as well it seemed. He was about to lose his footing until Dean grabbed him, helping him to the bed.