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

Dialectical

Okay, guys. I'm sorry for taking so long. GISHWHES is kicking my ass, but it is fun. Also I'm having writers block up the wazoo, so I'm apologizing for this in advance. Thank you for waiting and reading and I love you! 

Casey sat on the couch while filling out a sheet from a book Sam had bought for her. She'd adamantly refused to go to therapy, so the boys compromised and made her fill out a page in a therapeutic workbook every day. Casey kept insisting to them that it was stupid and that she hated it, but after a while she found that she was just being stubborn. She didn't mind filling them out anymore. She started doing two pages at once, but Sam caught her and made her stop. He said that she needed to 'sleep on it' before moving forward. He had a point. She did think about them more thoroughly when she didn't speed through the book. It wasn't like there was much else to do anyway if they weren't hunting, and she was pretty sure that her brothers were avoiding taking her to a bookstore so she would have to finish it out of boredom. It involved a lot of self reflection and about a million exercises for her to use when she was having urges to self harm. By the time she was done practicing them each day her brain felt exhausted. It was written by the woman who'd invented dialectical behavioral therapy, which Sam had researched extensively and decided it sounded like a good approach for her specific mental health issues, especially with such a grisly life. If an actual therapist read her answers she probably would have been committed, which was another good excuse to avoid seeing one.

But she actually didn't spend very much time writing about the monsters at all. Sure, some of the hunts were kind of scarring and unpleasant to think about, but most of her issues revolved around herself. The book didn't focus as much on the outside world as much as it did on what was going on inside her head. She didn't entirely appreciate that, but she understood why. It wasn't necessarily what had happened in her life to get her to where she was mentally, but how she'd dealt with it and to learn how to move on from it and to love herself again. It was a tall order, but she may as well try. 

Casey had been taking her meds for four and a half weeks consecutively. The boys had put up a good fight for the first few days; one that had involved a lot of puppy looks, pleading, and even an offer to sneak her some booze, which she promptly turned down after remembering her prior experience with whiskey, even though the offer was appreciated. She was pretty sure Dean only offered because he knew she was going to say no, which made her almost say yes, just to be spiteful. Almost. The fight to one and a half pills a day was brutal and had taken an enormous toll on all of their patience, and Castiel could feel the tension radiating off them even in Heaven. He wasn't sure what they were saying, but he could feel their -especially the boys'- subconscious praying for Casey.

Casey's other condition to take these stupid pills was that Cas could never find out. It was ridiculous, and she knew that, but she was already so embarrassed about it that the thought of one more person (being?) knowing about it made her want to curl up in a circle and stay that way forever. Sam and Dean felt bad about keeping a secret from him, but ultimately decided to do what Casey felt was best, much to her appreciation.

But things got really awkward when Casey walked into her room and screamed one day because all of a sudden there was an extremely confused looking angel sitting on her bed.

"Why are you screaming?" he asked innocently.

Casey gripped the doorframe and glared at Castiel while she attempted to catch her breath. She heard stomping down the hall and, sure enough, Sam and Dean appeared, each with a gun and ready to fire at anything. They skidded to a halt when they saw Casey standing in the doorway panting. "What's wrong? Something in there? You okay?" Dean said, lowering the glock a tiny degree but still prepared to shoot at a moment's notice. Casey shot another look at Castiel, who looked more weary than contrite, then looked back at her brothers, feeling extremely irritated.