I Really Messed Up, Guys: A Supernatural Self Harm Fic

You Got Some 'Splaining to Do

"You're a disappointment! God, Dad would be so pissed to see how weak you are!" he screamed, towering over her as she backed into a corner, green eyes blazing. "You're a crap soldier and you're an even worse sister!"

"Get back! You're possessed. I know you aren't my brother, get back!" Casey thrust her flask of holy water on Dean's enormous figure and was horrified when it didn't sizzle. It didn't make sense. His eyes went black, but he didn't burn? What was going on?

Dean laughed. "Holy water, really? I'm not a demon. I'm Dean. Your big brother Dean and I'm not possessed. I'm just sick of your crap, Cassandra. I'm sick of carrying around your weight. You're pathetic and being around you is freaking nauseating. You make me wanna puke!" he spat at her. Casey dropped her flask and squeezed her hands to her head. This couldn't be happening. He said he'd always be there. He was her brother he was family. He promised they'd all be together and that they'd always have each other's backs. There was no way this could be happening.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, and the motel door was smashed down. Sam rushed in and stabbed Dean in the chest with the demon blade, sinking it in to the hilt and making Casey scream even more. They had the cure to fix a demon and Sam just stabbed her brother. He killed him. Yeah, he'd saved her in doing so, but he'd killed Dean. What the hell was wrong with him?

Sam rushed toward her and helped her up roughly with one hand. "Come on, Case, we gotta go."

"What's going on, Sammy? Why did you kill Dean?" she cried. Sam must have decided she was taking too long to leave with him so he scooped her into a cradle carry and rushed out the door.

"That wasn't Dean!" he insisted.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Casey, we don't have time for the third degree. You just have to trust me on this, okay?" His voice was so serious she couldn't do anything but nod. What had even happened? One minute she was asleep, and the next Dean was screaming at her. Her head bobbed as Sam ran past Baby. She wanted to ask why they didn't get in, but became nearly paralyzed in fear when she craned her neck and saw dozens of brilliant lights bouncing against the interior of the Impala. Fairies? How could she even see them? She couldn't look long though as Sam turned a corner and moved so all her focus on was keeping her arms wrapped around Sam's neck and keeping her core tight so it was easier for him to carry her.

He kept running until they came to a tan car. Cas's pimpmobile. Sam wrenched open the door and roughly shoved Casey in the backseat then moved to sit in the passenger's. They both panted, her abdomen hurt and Sam's arms and legs must have been burning. She wanted to ask what was happening, but his sober face made her curiosity evanesce. She opted for a different question with a simpler answer, one that, most likely, wouldn't cause her brother any more pain.

"Where's Cas?" she spoke lowly, not wanting to to elicit an emotion from him with her tone of voice.

Sam twisted in his seat to look back at Casey, his eyes were grave and red. There were dark circles under them that hadn't been there that morning and his cheeks look sunken in. Sam looked like he was dying. Had he looked like that when he'd stabbed Dean? She supposed she'd been in too much shock to pay his face any mind, but now it seemed insane that should could have missed it. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He repeated the action again and reminded her of a fish, then turned to face the windshield again. "He'll be here soon." His voice was decided and it was clear she wasn't to ask any more questions.

They sat together in silence until Casey finally saw two figures emerge in the ray of the spotlight. They grew closer and closer until Casey could finally discern that one of the figures was Castiel. He was hunched over, supporting the other figure whose feet were nearly dragging. The only indication of them being alive from her distance was the occasional stumble of legs that were attempting to help, but were obviously making their slow progress even more pathetic.