Dear Addiction

Chapter seventeen

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse

Dean groaned, burying his face further into the pillow. His whole body ached in exhaustion, every inch burning as if he had been lit on fire, licking across his finger tips, burning hotter with every racing heart beat. Despite the heat of his skin, he was freezing, even under the weight of blankets. He couldn't breath, not without one more hit. Not that he even wanted to if he wasn't high.

Dean raised a hand running it across his face, then letting it fall to his chest.

The moment his hand fell against skin instead of what should've been the fabric of his t-shirt, his eyes flew open meeting the white ceiling above. It was the same as Sam's though all the other differences suddenly became much more clear. The heavy duvet on top of him instead of the normal scratchy blanket, the thick smell of perfume that was almost suffocating, and most of all, through the ringing of his ears, the low breath of another person.

Slowly Dean turned his head, holding his breath until the mess of red hair came into view. Jo's eyes were fluttered shut, most of her face covered by her hair, while her body was covered by blankets. Though even with the blankets Dean could see her defined collar bones. He let out a low breath, slowly pushing himself from the mattress, and off of the bed. His eyes never leaving her, even as he collected his clothing from the previous night and pulled them on.

Once he was fully dressed, he silently crept out of the bedroom, leaving the door open, in fear of waking the women, and through the rest of the apartment. His breathing didn't become normal until the front door had been closed, and he had crumbled against the hall walls, his eyes squeezed closed. "Fuck," Dean mumbled.

He rested his head back, letting a shaken breath part his lips. He couldn't remember much from the night before, just leaving his brother and the kids as they sorted through the candy, then cocaine and alcohol. Throwing up, and then more cocaine. He didn't remember returning with Jo, or the reason why his head spun so bad.

He let out another shaken breath before pushing himself from the wall, and beginning his walk down the apartment hallway and towards what must have been the lobby, where another man was. Dean continued to walk forward until the man's messy hair had become unmistakable, and Dean had stopped only a few feet away.

"Cas? He breathed out, getting the attention of the other man, who had been sorting through his mailbox.

Castiel quickly stood up, his head turning at the sound of his name. He wore his usual trench coat, his pajamas just visible underneath, while his hair was messed, dark strands sticking up in odd places. Dean doubted he got much sleep either, Jack would've been on a sugar high all night.

The moment Cas saw Dean he turned, walking as quickly as he could to the stairway, "no wait Cas." Dean ran forward, running through the hall, and into the stairwell, "Cas," He yelled again trying to get the other man to stop, though when he didn't, Dean reached out grabbing his wrist.

Castiel froze, only his head turning slightly to look at Dean. His blue eyes were wide, lips parted every so slightly, as he stared at Dean in fear.

Deans grip quickly fell the moment he realized what he had done, his own eyes looking up at Cas in the panic, "Can we talk?" Dean asked, his voice barely above. His eyes darted across Cas's face, waiting for a response though none came, Cas only continuing to stare in the same panic, "please, I need to talk to you."

"I suppose," Castiel finally whispered.

They stared at each other for a second before Dean slowly took a seat on the stairs, Castiel then following suit. "So," Dean began awkwardly, "how've you been?"