Crazy Mind -Destiel-

14- The Silent Hallway

*potential self-harm trigger*

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?"

Dean jolts awake. Pain throbs so violently around his skull that he wonders why it doesn't just crack open. He brings a hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes with a groan. Nausea overwhelms him and he has to press his knuckles into his eyes just to numb the feeling of bile threatening to come up his throat. "That explosion will have alerted every supernatural creature within a thousand miles."

Dean blinks, rolling his head to the side. Flashing colour spots sting his vision. The car is filled with the constant back and forth between light and dark as they pass streetlight after streetlight. He's in the impala her soft cushion seats tempting him to close his eyes again. He can just about make out the curve of Castiel's cheekbone in the darkness. The angel is frowning at Bobby and Dean's not surprised. He probably feels as worried as Bobby sounds. Dean groans as he sits up.

"Where are we?" The car skids on the road as Bobby glances back at him. "You're awake." Dean shakes his head, grabbing onto the back of the chair to pull himself up. "Of course I am. I'm fine." Bobby's hands tense on the wheel, gliding across them in a caress that reminds him too much of John and Dean has to look away. 

"How're your ribs?" Bobby watches his reaction in the rear-view mirror. Dean frowns, glancing down at himself but he can't help but look to Castiel. Castiel usually makes it his top priority to be the first person to ask if he's okay. The angels head hangs, the frown creasing between his eyebrows. Ignoring him.

"My ribs?" He asks half-heartedly, his mind feeling slow and foggy. Bobby's frown is beginning to shift into a scowl and Dean quickly turns his attention back to him. It's almost painful to keep his attention on Bobby when he notices Castiel's head turn to look out of the window, shrinking away from them. 

"Yeah, your ribs. I saw one of them hit you and it looked enough to keep you down for a while." Then all at once, his head clears and it all comes rushing back like a slap to the face.

His power had gotten out of control, to the point where he couldn't stop, he didn't want to stop. Dean had killed someone and he had enjoyed it. He liked seeing him suffer even though that person had threatened to kill him, he was defenceless and Dean hadn't hesitated to strike first and torture. The guilt is ice in his guts. It could be a hundred degrees out and he'd still be frozen on the inside. He can't melt it, he can't shift it at all. He can't help but humanizing the mangled face of the guy he killed even if the demon inside was in control there was still a person trapped inside before it died.

Ancitif had offered him a way out, a way to save each of those people all he had to do was go with them and end the hunt. But he'd refused the offer. He'd refused out of fear. Dean had never really considered the idea of demons existing and yet he'd killed six of them in barely half an hour.

It had felt amazing. The feeling of expelling all the grace that had been pent up inside was incredible to release on something bad, something that deserved it and for him to not be the only one in pain for once. However, when Castiel had put his hand on his shoulder he felt even more powerful, he'd never felt so strong. It was as if he could feel every atom and manipulate the very ground beneath him with a flick of his wrist. His very being felt on fire, consumed by the current in the atmosphere. 

"Dean?"

He startles, realising he had been digging his fingernails into his palms. He unfurls his hands and grimaces at the half-moons of blood pooling to the surface. It hurt and he wants it to hurt. Just to distract him from the feeling that he should be dead instead of those people.