Schizo||Destiel||#Wattys2017||

Year 7: You're My Hero

It's been 2 months since the fire. It's been two months since Sam and Dean have moved into the Novak household. It's been two months since Castiel was almost immobilized by the flames. It's been two months since everything went horrifically wrong.

We aren't talking wrong like oh, I forgot to subtract wrong. No, it's more of a this changed my whole life and I will never be the same again type of wrong.

Of course, Castiel was never the dramatic type. He never showed emotion. He never got angry. Castiel was quite content with where he was. Well, he wasn't, but he wouldn't let that show. Not in front of Dean. Not in front of Lucifer. Not I front of Gabe. Castiel would never show anyone the way he actually felt.

To say the least, it hurt. It hurt Castiel both physically, and mentally. The burns were still healing, and his broken ankle inconvenienced him even more, for a kid with a room upstairs. Castiel hasn't need upstairs since Lucifer woke him up on that fateful day. Castiel hasn't gone anywhere, really.

Then, there's the mental pain.

Which is oh, so bitter.

Castiel gets days to himself, being able to loathe the fact that he could have been more careful. He could have helped Dean. He could have just not fallen. He could have been more careful.

You could have just not risked your life in the first place.

Wow, what an awesome idea? He thought. Yes, that was sarcasm that Castiel was expressing. Everyone in that house would have died before the fire department got there. He knew that. Everyone knew that. Castiel couldn't just let him die. He couldn't just let his best friend's flesh sizzle off and burn to a crisp. He'd rather not have Dean like an over cooked  marshmallow. Castiel likes to look at the bright side. He's got an epic story to tell. It'll be so cool. He could just be like, "Oh, yeah, so I ran into a burning building to save my best friend." Wouldn't anyone love to be that cool?

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel's head snapped up, making him wince. His skin was scarring, now, but it still hurt. It hurt like hell, if he was being honest, but he wasn't going to show that around Lucifer, who was standing in the doorway. "Yo, Luci.

Lucifer stared at his brother, a hard expression on his face. Castiel couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he knew that his brother was thinking about the same thing he was. "Can I... Can I talk to you?"

"Yes..." Castiel seemed to push the words out of his brother. Ever since Cas turned 12, which wasn't that long ago, he has been talking a lot more; he's been saying what's on his mind.

"Okay, um, how are you, lately, Cas?" Lucifer gave him a sad smile, cocking an eyebrow up. He watched his brother shift uncomfortably.

"I'm fine, Lucifer."

"Cas," Lucifer began, still watching his brother. Lucifer pitied Cas. Castiel could tell. The poor kid could barely move, still. The burns were gone, but the pain stayed. The scars stayed. They ran up his arm, almost covering the entire right side of his body, stopping at his jaw, fortunately. Castiel looked fine, if he wore regular winter clothing. Tee shirts? Oh, no. Not with that arm. Shorts? Not gonna happen. Not with the way that people are. It's either hilarious or so sad that you have to look away.

Castiel sat in a tank top and boxers, his brother staring at him.

Lucifer looked away.

"Please, don't."

"Don't what, Cas? You were reckless. You were stupid. You almost got yourself killed!" The teenager sat next to Castiel on the couch. He crossed his arms. "I'm worried about you, Cas! That's all there is to it!" Lucifer always found a way to make Cas feel guilty. He never failed to make his brother feel like the worst person in the world because he was a hero.