Destiel Oneshots

(To the beat of Ophelia) Oh oh Lee Webb {Sam + Dean}

Dean's 24, Sam's 20.

"Yah, I'll send you the notes," Sam said into the cell phone, as he stepped into his dorm room, closing the door behind him. With one hand still around the phone he reached his other out to the light switch, feeling around the wall for it. "Are we still on for Monday?"

"Yah." His friend, Morgan, replied through the phone. "I'll meet you at the pub?"

"Sounds good, is Jess coming cause-" The moment he flipped the light switch, his breath hitched, stomach dropping in horror? Shock? Sam wasn't sure. "Dean?"

Sam's mouth stayed a gap as he stared at his brother who was sat on Sam's bed. His gaze darted across Dean's face, and body, once, twice, over and over as if what he saw would disappear though it never did. No matter how many times Sam looked Dean's face stayed covered in dark purpose bruises, his t-shirt and jeans stained with dried blood.

Bruises.

Blood.

Sam couldn't find an inch of Dean that wasn't covered. Even his lips, which sat in a lopsided grin, were split open.

"Sam?" His name came from through the phone, jolting him from his trance. "You good?"

"Uh yah," Sam mumbled. "I'll talk to you later."

He didn't wait for a response instead hanging up, his eyes staying locked on Dean's as his arm fell back to his side. "Heya Sammy." Dean greeted, with a grin. The smile across his face easy, similar to his posture, as if he wasn't looking on the verge of death.

"Dean," Sam stepped forward, gaze once again darting down Dean's body. He could barely look through the twisting of his stomach, yet couldn't find his gaze moving anywhere else. Stuck on the bruise that covered Dean's cheek, the way his once grey AC/DC now clung to his chest with dried blood. "What the hell happened?"

"Me, Dad and Lee were on a hunt in Arizona."

"And you drove here? Dude that's like eighteen hours, why didn't dad or Lee patch you up."

A visible breath raised Dean's chests. "It wasn't the monster that had done the slicing and dicing."

Dad.

Sam could almost feel his heart stop as his gaze once again darted down his brother's body, though through his layers of clothing it was impossible to see exactly how much damage their father had caused. "In front of Lee?" was all Sam could muster.

"Can you just help me clean up?"

Sam quickly nodded turning to his bathroom. He collected a few cloths, alongside a small first aid kit and bucket of water before returning to his brother who'd stripped down to nothing but his underwear.

For a moment Sam couldn't move, his breath stuck in his throat as he looked down Dean's body. It was so much worse than Sam had ever expected, both of Dean's sides covered in large bruises, the same dark colour that matched his face. Dried blood stained his calves and thighs, dripping from the large gashes that covered his thighs. They couldn't of been from knives, maybe some kind of wip. A belt?

"You just gonna stare?" Dean's gruff voice broke the silence, forcing Sam to move despite his suddenly shaky legs.

He stumbled forward, dropping the stuff at the edge of the bed before he took a seat behind Dean, his stomach immediately dropping, begging him to look anywhere else. The gashes across his back were much worse, some long and precisely marked, though many became smaller, more forced, scattered without care.

Fuck Dean.

That was the only thing Sam could think.

Why do you let him do this.