The Knock (Destiel)

Chapter eleven

11. Family doesn't always end in blood

*Contains mentions of self harm. If it triggers you, don't read*

       Castiel was holding a bloody razor in his right hand, looking at the creation on his left. He stared at it with fascination, as tears smudged out the blood even more. He despised his arms. They would never be beautiful, tanned and flawless. He couldn't even walk around without a sweater the rest of his life, for God's sake.

       He felt pathetic. Dean hadn't meant to react so cold, he should've never typed that stupid message in the first place. In the background, he could hear knocking on the door, but he shrugged it off. He felt numb anyways. When Dean started to talk, he listened. Somehow, he wanted to know what the man thought of him.

       With a bang, the door slammed open. Castiel's vision was blurry. It could possibly be tears or the fact that he cut too deep, he didn't know. For a few seconds, the figures didn't move. Castiel tilted his head, squinting. What were they doing anyway?

       The blade was taken away from him in surprise, much to his protest. He gripped the metal tight, feeling the numbing pain in his hand this time. In the mean time, strong arms were wrapped around him, pulling his body towards him.

        "Dean?" He whispered quietly. Sam looked around with wide eyes, grabbing a towel and holding it against the bleeding arms.

       "Yeah, Cas. It's me," he said. His voice cracked, followed by his heart breaking when the almost unconscious man smiled.

       "You're pretty," he mumbled, moving his hands towards Dean's face. He didn't even realise the tears that were falling down both their cheeks. Dean laughed though his tears, but it was more of a heartbroken, scared laugh.

       Sam was dabbing the wounds, while Dean tried to keep Castiel conscious. Bobby, who had been getting groceries, came to see what all the fuss was about. When he saw the uncountable scars on Castiel's arms, red dripping down his arm, he didn't need to think twice. He ran towards a crying Dean, helping him.

        "You're gonna be OK, Cas. You cannot leave us now. Please," he mumbled, fear clear in his eyes as he spoke the words. Not even seconds later, Castiel's eyes rolled back in his head. Dean slipped out a couple of no's, slapping the unconscious man's cheek harshly. Bobby checked for a pulse. Hearing a steady heartbeat, he sighed in relief.

       "He's gonna be fine, kid. His blood loss isn't the end of the world, and his heartbeat is steady. I'm sure he'll wake up soon." The words calmed Dean down slightly, but he never replied.

       "Dean, can you help me patch him up?" Sam asked. His tone was more careful than Bobby's. Dean nodded slightly, laying the unconscious man down on his back. Together, they cleaned up the cuts in silence. Bobby had left to get some bandages.

       About ten minutes later, Dean was carrying Castiel towards the guest room, laying him down gently. He put blankets around the shivering, unconscious man. He also pulled the sleeves of Castiel's sweater down, covering the bandages. When he walked out, he was greeted by Bobby and Sam, talking about the hunt that brought them here in the first place.

       "Bobby, Dean's pretty shaken up right now. I don't know if it's a good idea to take him. If it's like you said, a couple of werewolves, I think we can manage. And besides, someone needs to watch Castiel," Sam spoke. Dean raised his eyebrows.

       "I'm glad you care about me, Sammy, but I'm a big guy. I can take care of myself. You, on the other hand, haven't been on a hunt in months. Can't you take care of Cas?"

       "He's your boyfriend," Sam stated, smirking lightly. Dean glared at him, as Bobby chuckled. When Dean shot him a glare too, he shut up.

       "For the record, he's not my boyfriend yet. And I'm the reason he did this to himself in the first place. I think a hunt will be good to blow off some steam,"

       "That's exactly the reason you need to stay here! Apologising when he wakes up will probably make him feel better,"

       "No, Sammy. I'm going on that hunt, end of discussion."

       "But-"

        Dean raised his eyebrows again, silencing his little brother, who sighed in defeat and mumbled a 'fine' under his breath. Dean shot him an innocent smile, before walking off. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown, when his back faced Bobby and Sam. He sighed in deeply. He could do this. He needed to do this.

       He breathed in the air when it embraced him, a light breeze creeping up his neck. He didn't really mind. He opened the trunk of his beloved Impala, showing the arsenal that laid in it. He pulled out a duffel bag and stuffed it with silver bullets, guns and other weapons that were needed. He knew that loading up now wasn't really necessary, but it was an excuse to think. He sat down on the hood of the car after placing the duffel bag in his trunk too.

       Castiel wished him a normal life. Nobody had ever done that. He never had to wonder about a normal life, because he never had one. He never had a home, a loving family who took care of him. No, he took full responsibility of taking care of his little brother. He had never told Sam the horrible things his father did because the then small boy had been stubborn.

       But now, Castiel's words made him think about it all of sudden. He thought about getting a normal job, buying a house, marrying someone. It all seemed unreal and unachievable. It scared the living shit out of him. He knew he'd never be safe, and that others - people around the country - wouldn't be either because he wouldn't be there to protect them. He thought about the danger Castiel would be in if they stayed together.

       That thought made him pause for a second.

       Dean had never fallen so hard for anyone. Yes, he had hooked up with so many girls and thought to like them, but he had never felt like this. He never knew that a look in someone's eyes could make him sweat, or that the sound of someone's voice could make him swoon and want to collapse. Neither did he ever feel as broken as he did when he saw what the mute man did to himself.

       He feared he was falling in love, which terrified him.

       Love meant weakness and weakness meant distraction. Distraction will get you killed. That was what his father always used to tell him. He didn't want to bother others with his emotions, especially his brother. He wasn't supposed to be weak. He needed to be strong, for Sammy.

       He just didn't know if he could keep it up.