Due to Cas' mistakes in the past, Gabriel forces him to be reborn every time he dies. This wouldn't be that bad of a date if Cas didn't fall in love with Dean Winchester and watch him die over and over again.
🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻
I clutched my jowl in pain as I looked at my face in the mirror. It had not always been this way. He used to be loving; he used to protect me and my fragile mind; now, he feeds to the ravenous thoughts that yammer in my mind constantly. 'Why' I thought to myself as the pain slowly began to subside. 'Why me?' You called me a faggot today and I guess that it was fair because it was true. You knew that I was talking to someone else. Someone who actually cared. Someone who could veil my thoughts. Someone who I now idolize more than whatever demon stood in front of me not even 5 agonizing minutes ago. They actually cared. Looking in the mirror I could see the shadow of what I once was and it disgusted me. I was content living with the demon until he started taking all of his anger out on me in bursts. Slowly, I made my way over to the tub and turned it on. I was done. This was it; I had finally reached my breaking point. All the times that you called me a faggot and other vulgar names had finally got to me. As the tub slowly filled I reached into the cabinet and pulled out the pills that were once meant to help me. 'This is it' I thought once more as I uncapped the mostly full bottle. Everything was fine before when I could control the demon. Sure, we would quibble every blue moon, that's just a part of life. He grew old of me. My thoughts, the way I looked, how I would starve myself just to please him. He was bored of everything that was a part of me. That was okay though. Everyone gets tired of me eventually. Thinking back now, I should have left this godforsaken apartment when he hovered a knife over my body occasionally making precise lines in my brittle skin wherever he saw fit. Hell, even know I could remember the pathetic shriek that would dare leave my mouth whenever he would make a line too deep. Knowing what I was going to do, I brought my journal with me to compose a letter to him. He was the only one that would care that I was gone. I wasn't talking about the demon then, I was talking about the only one who cared. He would be devastated at first, but he would get over it. He would move on, that was certain. After composing my final words on the paper the bath was finally full. I grabbed the pills and started to take them one at a time, savoring the moment; savoring the feeling of the green and white pills going down my throat for this was the last thing I will consume anything. Slowly I reached into my back pocket to grab my old friend. It had been a while since I had held the now rusted object and I noticed that I had not cleaned it since the last time I had used it. Not that it mattered now. I descended into the boiling water fully clothed and submerged myself, thinking of your. The way you smiled, the way you the corner of your eyes slightly crinkled whenever you smiled, the splendid shade of hazel that your eyes are made up of, I thought of you. I thought of you when I brought the rusted blade to my wrist and started my final masterpiece while silently praying that you will forgive me. Slowly I felt myself wain in and out of consciousness, I prayed to a god that may or may not exist. I prayed that you would forever be happy.
Clutching the letter in my bloody hand, I re-read the words over again once more. My eyes have not left the forsaken paper since I found them. They were submerged in a bath of crimson; the blade that they once showed me on the side of the tub decorated in a new crimson layer. I should have taken the damned blade when I had the chance. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I could feel the disgusting sympathy seep from their skin into my own. It burned. My eyes left the letter for the first time since we arrived at the hospital and Looking up, I saw their parents who of which were acting, pretending as if they cared about Cas. If they cared, they would have noticed the immense sense of sadness that appeared to be perspiring from their son's skin. I could feel the rage that was bottled up seep through my pores. A nurse walked up to me and asked if I needed a bandage for my hand. I shook my head no in response for it was not just my own blood on my hands. It was theirs. I was the one who tried to save you from the crimson darkness that tried to consume you once more. I remember how cold your corpse was; the dead silence that rung throughout the bathroom when I tried to wake you up; I remember your once deep ocean eyes which were now cloud. The most saddening part of what had happened was the fact that even after you realized what you were doing, a small smile was still plastered on your face. Even in death, you knew what you wanted. You don't regret it and it's okay. You were put through hell and back and I tried to save you. I tried so hard.
Walking into the house I didn't bother locking the door. No one would bother me now. They all knew how I felt. They knew better than to bother me. Walking over to my speaker I turned it on and put our song on a loop and sat in my desk. I was still clutching the bloody letter in my hand; my hands were still covered in our blood. I knew what I was going to do. I took out my journal and began writing a response to the letter even though I knew that I would never get a response back. Sitting back in the chair, I took a look around my apartment. This place was no longer home without them. I walked toward my window. There was a cold breeze flowing through the dark curtains. I sat outside on the ledge and wondered if I could fly. I think I might just try.
