The Knock (Destiel)

Chapter twenty-one

21. Don't want to be all by myself

*trigger warning*

       It was 2:37 AM and Castiel was still awake. He knew for a fact that Sam and Dean were sleeping, because he had been walking around the motel for the last five minutes. Without even thinking about it, his feet dragged him towards the bathroom, where he slid down the wall quietly. He locked the door, just in case one of the Winchester brothers woke up.

       Castiel liked the silence. It reflected how he felt almost perfectly: Nothing. He played with a pair of scissors, twirling it around slowly. Ever since the last time he harmed himself, Sam and Dean hid their razors from him, just in case. It wasn't the same, but scissors would do. He placed the cold metal against his arm, shivering at the contrast against his skin. He swallowed, before dragging the metal against his skin, making it split open. Slowly, blood rose up from underneath the separated skin, making him sigh in relief.

       He shouldn't be doing this. He knew that, but after that scene at the bank, that dark feeling in his stomach seemed to be twice as big as it had ever been. Dean didn't love him, how could he? Nobody did. He probably just used him for self protection or pity.

       Castiel hated that word.

       The scissors weren't sharp, so it took him a lot more power to feel the same pain, the same release. He was starting to choke on his tears, holding his legs in his arms, looking at the cuts he created. The endless, aching pain in his chest had reduced and almost seemed to have been transferred towards his arms. It looked like at least 20 new cuts were covering the old scars.

       Shakily, Castiel stood up. He wiped the blood of his arms by holding them under the sink. For as much as was possible, anyways. Then, he threw some kind of carpet on the blood on the ground. Why there was a carpet in the bathroom, he didn't know. As silently as possible, he walked back to his bed. Normally, he and Dean would have shared, but now Dean had taken the floor - or maybe Castiel had shoved an extra blanket and a pillow on the ground before lying in bed himself.

       He looked at his phone, which now said it was 3:24 AM. He pursed his lips and lay down. Maybe getting some sleep wasn't a bad thing. Maybe this was all a dream and he could wake up in Dean's arms. With that thought, he drifted off, falling in a dreamless slumber.

       Sadly, his hopes subsided when he woke up. His arms were stinging, and there was no warmth of a body beside him. He sighed, as he felt tears prickle in the inner corners of his eyes once again. To be honest, he was getting sick of all the crying. He wiped the threatening tears away when he heard a door, his door, open.

       "Cas, are you awake?" His voice sent shivers down Castiel's spine, unwillingly. He shuddered lightly when he felt a weight on the bed. "You can't fool me, Cas."

       Instead of saying something, he curled himself up in a ball and clutched the blankets tight. He heard Dean sigh, yet he didn't leave.

       "Look, I know you probably hate me right now, but I just want to explain myself. I was looking at the security camera's, as I said I would. Then I woke up with Sam by my side. I swear it wasn't me!"

       In the next minute, a lot happened. First, Castiel sat up so quickly he got dizzy. It caught Dean off guard, who tried to get some distance. Much to his surprise, Castiel looked absolutely livid. That thought was confirmed when he felt a stinging feeling on his cheek. He parted his lips, his eyes staring at Castiel's hand that was now laying on the man's lap.

       "Do you know what it looked like? You were basically fucking that slut through her clothes. Do you honestly think I'd believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?" He spat out with so much rage, it surprised both Dean and Castiel himself. In his whole life, Castiel had never been this angry.

       "No, Cas-"

       "Save it, Dean." The hunter didn't have time to reply or defend himself, because Castiel had manouvred himself past him and walked towards the exit of the room. It took him a few seconds to progress the situation, but when he did, he rushed out of the room too.

       "Cas, wait!" He screamed when he saw the front door shut. He mumbled some swear words under his breath, before running after him. The cold air hit him like a ton of bricks, but Castiel was nowhere to be found.

       In the mean time, Castiel was running on the side of the road, randomly turning towards the woods that covered the slowly rising sun. He didn't have his coat, but it didn't bother him. He just wanted to be left alone.

       It didn't mean Dean's words didn't leave him with questions, though. He always trusted Dean; he loved him. His story could be right, but who was there to witness that? No, he regretted trusting the Winchesters. He would still be invisible and studying now, with no changes: no hard feelings.

       He hated feelings.

       Completely out of breath, he leaned against a tree, gasping for air. Not only did he have a lack of oxygen by running too far in the cold, but also because his tears were choking him. His heart was still clenching, which left him almost choking.

       He was so caught up in his feelings and despair, that he didn't hear bushes creak behind him. Or he did hear and just didn't care. He walked further into the woods, slowly this time. When he saw a low hanging tree trunk, he didn't dare to sit down and let even more tears fall. They fell on his sweatpants, cold and hard as ice.

       Castiel knew he had to return to Bobby's place and that Dean would probably be searching for him right now. Why, he didn't know. Of course, he had no idea how to get back in the first place. That thought was interrupted by another snapping branch, louder this time. It was only then that he realised there was someone behind him, but it was too late. A cloth was shoved against his mouth and nose, making him lose consciousness fairly quickly, as he didn't have the strength to fight back. The last thing on his mind was a plea for help, with that everything went black.