Tag Archives: suicide

The Worst Kind Of Monsters

Written: 15.06.07

**Contains: Self Harm (Cutting), Bullying, Dissociation, Mentions/Implications of Eating Disorders (Anorexia) and Domestic Abuse**

Teen!Chesters, Destiel


“Hey, Castiel!”

The mentioned stops walking and feels his heart leap into his throat, he closes his eyes and hopes that it is not who he thinks it is.

“You forget we had a date?”

Castiel hears the crew of bullies walk closer, the thudding of their boots against the ground strangely reflects the beating of his heart. He turns around slowly, hoping to God they wouldn’t be too rough with him. He had another date and he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary worry.

“Well?” The leader sneers down at him, getting right into his personal space.

“P-please, Brock. Not today.” The teen says, his voice shaky.

“Aw, would ya look at this? Haven’t even started and he’s already pleading. You really are well trained, ain’t ya?” Brock asks, smiling sweetly down at the boy.

Castiel nodded his head but kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to piss Brock off any farther.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make this real quick, wouldn’t want to keep ya from sleeping because you were patching yourself up.” Brock says, moving impossibly closer.

Castiel just blinks up at him – this was new – he wasn’t sure if this was something he was supposed to reply to or not. He guessed he was wrong for keeping his mouth shut when he felt Brock’s fist collide with his jaw and he hit the ground hard, falling down to his hands and knees, his backpack sliding from his shoulder, falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” Brock spat, stepping back to retrieve his backpack.

“T-thank-you.” Castiel mutters, spitting some blood out of his mouth.

“That’s more like it. Such a polite fat cow, ain’t he?” Brock approves no doubt with that smirk on his face.

One of Brock’s cronies walks over and grabs Castiel up off the ground, holding his arms behind him and kicks out his knees, so he was sagging in the grip, as the other boy walks forward and smiles sweetly at him, before starting to lay into him, using him as his own personal punching bag.

Castiel hears the familiar ripping of his backpack zippers as Brock goes through its contents, no doubt searching for the sandwich he asked Castiel to make for him yesterday. His cronies stop punching him and switch their positions, so the one holding him was now punching him and the one who was punching was holding him back.

“Where is it?” Brock yells, throwing the bag off to the side.

“He ate it.”

Castiel’s head shoots up (successfully moving his head so he got punched in the eye) and he pleads with everything he has that that voice was not what he recognized it as.

“Winchester?” Brock asks, the confusion evident in his voice.

“Hiya Brock.” Dean greets, smirking at the bully as he walked closer.

The two guys holding Castiel stop punching and automatically throw him to the side, as if Dean didn’t just see what they were doing. Castiel hit the ground hard, no doubt scraping his hands and knees and started coughing up blood, hoping Dean wouldn’t notice.

“We were just, uh, helping Castiel here with his things.” Brock lied, holding up the backpack.

“You implyin’ that I’m stupid? That I didn’t just see what you did with his bag?” Dean asked his eyebrow raising.

“Or his face?” Dean spat, turning to glare at the other two.

“We were just- uh-”

“Save it.” Dean snarled, taking a step forward.

Brock’s face flushed before he threw the bag down, glared at Castiel one last time, scurrying off down the street. Castiel wiped the string of blood away from his mouth and looked back up, afraid of what the two cronies would do. The two back-up bullies shared a look before running off toward their leader.

As soon as they were gone, Dean held out a hand to help the teen up off the ground. Castiel accepted the hand and stood up shakily, unable to find his voice to thank his boyfriend for coming to his rescue. Castiel wasn’t able to do a lot of things with the ache he felt start to swell inside his chest, and the irresistible itch on his thigh, as though he’d gotten stung by ten thousand tiny mosquito’s.

“Don’t worry, Cas, I’ll get you home.” Dean promised, his arm tightening around the smaller man’s shoulders.

Castiel wasn’t really paying attention, but guessed that Dean had actually walked them home, because the next thing he was aware of was that he was leaning up against the railing of Dean’s porch while he unlocked the door. Once the door was open, Dean kicked it open slightly before coming back to help Castiel inside, kicking it closed once they were inside.

Bathroom, get to the bathroom! The voice yelled inside Castiel’s head, the ache and itch intensifying.

Castiel waited until Dean had set him down on the couch and hurried up to the second floor, to either tell his brother he was home or get the first aid kit, before he got up and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and felt as though he was shrinking, getting closer and closer to the ground. He took a shaky breath and turned away, purposefully not looking at the scale in the corner.

Tuesday. The voice reminded him, allowing that urge to lessen.

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel blinked and looked around wildly for a moment, before realizing he was in the bathroom. He looked down at his leg and was surprised to see it covered in bleeding lines, his pants folded nicely beside him, still gripping his blade with shaky fingers, blood dripping off of it. He ran a gentle finger into one of the blood drops that had welled up from one of the cuts and brought it up to his mouth, licking the liquid off of it slowly, loving the shudder that runs through him as the taste hits his tongue.

“Cas, you okay in there?” Dean calls through the door.

Castiel reaches up and tries to pull himself up from the floor, all the beads of blood on his leg rolling down it slowly, unsuccessful, he lands back on the floor with a thud. That was apparently all the permission Dean needed to kick in the door.

Castiel was sure that if he could feel anything in that moment, he’d feel guilty at the disappointed/hurt look on his boyfriend’s face as he took the scene in before him. He breathed out before turning around and closing the door as best he could before turning back and kneeling down beside the younger man.

“Cas?” Dean questions, the hurt and confusion evident.

Castiel, still couldn’t find his voice, and looks down in an attempt to hide the tears he felt sting at his eyes. Dean watches the movement before nodding and standing back up, reaching over to grab a few sheets of toilet paper, holding them out for the boy to take.

“Okay.” Dean says, voice gentle, as if dealing with a frightened, cornered animal, before dabbing lightly at the cuts on his leg, wiping the blood away.

Castiel sniffs and blinks the tears away, not wanting the older man to think it’s because he’s hurting him, although he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t think that. The bloody toilet paper gets thrown into the garbage before Dean gets up, saying something that may or may not be important, regardless of which one, Castiel doesn’t hear it, just watches, brokenly as he sees Dean leave the bathroom and feels an overwhelming sense of loneliness, of being abandoned by the one person who promised him he’d never leave.

Castiel feels the ache well up again, more intense than he’d ever felt it before and can’t stop himself as he pulls the blade across his other thigh, again and again, until the ache goes away, trying to reach it from the outside. Trying to get it out of him, if he could only go deep enough, he might be able to sit and watch it come up and out of one of the cuts, ridding him of it forever – never needing to feel it again.

Soon enough, this thigh is covered in cuts too, and the only reason Castiel paused in his actions was he had to stop and scan his leg for an open space, a place he could fit one more, a pale, untouched spot on his thigh that he could decorate with the lovely red of perfection. It’s in this moment that the older man walks back in, not bothering to ask permission this time and Castiel is fairly certain he curses when he sees how much more damage his boyfriend’s caused himself.

In an instant, he’s there, back on his knees, pressing toilet paper to the thigh closest to the door, the one that moments before hadn’t held any kind of mark, was a blank canvas, waiting, begging to be used. Castiel knows that he’s saying something, can hear the deep voice carry out and break the unbearable silence that had encased him for too long, that always seems to encase him, but Castiel still can’t make out the words, doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s hearing but for the life of him, he just can’t seem to bring himself, or remember how to listen.

Again, he sees the bloody toilet paper get tossed into the garbage and feels as though they’ve already done this, but can’t remember when, it all seems to blur together nowadays. Castiel can’t even bring himself to feel anymore, the numbness has taken over completely, keeping him out of the moment forever. Causing him to fall deeper and deeper into a hole he doesn’t know if he can climb out of – doesn’t know if he wants to climb out of.




This time, Dean doesn’t get up and leave, he leans closer and carefully lifts Castiel’s hand with one of his own, the other turning Castiel’s face to face him and the hand he’s holding. Dean grips the hand tighter, intensely starring into his boyfriend’s blank eyes, trying to get a response out of him, trying to ground him, to bring him back to the now, to get him out of that freaky head of his. Castiel again can hear him say something but the sounds run together, and he knows its hopeless trying to figure out what was said. But then, he sees Dean’s hand move, it’s prying Castiel’s fist open, this catches Castiel off guard and his eyes flicker out of the blankness that had covered them, giving Dean a glimpse of hope.

He’d uncurled the younger’s hand and sees that his boyfriend is back, he’s watching their hands, and if this wasn’t so important, Dean would’ve sprung up and did a happy dance. But he couldn’t, he had to take this slow, as slow as Castiel needed. Dean carefully ran the tips of his fingers over Castiel’s palm, and felt himself smile slightly as he watched the shudder run through his boyfriend.

This was good, he was feeling – he was in the moment.

Dean carefully picked the blade he’d been clutching to up and wasn’t surprised to see he’d cut his hand with the force he’d been using. These cuts weren’t very deep and weren’t bleeding; luckily they wouldn’t need to be wrapped, unlike the cuts on his legs. He pulled his hand back and placed the blade into his shirt pocket, making sure it would be somewhere Castiel wouldn’t be able to get it without him knowing.

“Okay, Cas, let’s get you out of here.” Dean said, keeping his voice gentle.

Castiel shook slightly as Dean wrapped his arms around him easily, pulling him up bridal style into his arms. Castiel’s head was resting against his shoulder as if his neck couldn’t hold it up on it’s own and he felt tears start to soak through the thin fabric but didn’t care, he knew why his baby was crying, and he could make it better when he showed emotion – it was when he shut down and got that blank stare that made Dean panic.

“I-I heard.” Castiel whispered through the sobs.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to not focus on the fact that he could feel the sections of spine shift every time Castiel breathed.

“Good, that’s good.” Dean approved quietly.

Dean walked out of the bathroom and made the small trip into the living room, standing in the middle of it for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to let go of his boyfriend. It would probably have been better to go up to his room, for the privacy they needed, but Dean refused to climb the stairs while carrying him because he knew each step set a jolt of pain through his baby and the last thing he wanted was to cause him any more pain. He walked a few slow laps around the living room, relishing the feel of his baby being so close to him, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hold him close and feel his heartbeat.

Dean sighed and walked to the couch, laying Castiel down on it carefully, so he was on his back, allowing Dean to see the full extent of the damage done to his legs. He ran back to the hallway where he’d dropped the first aid kit when he heard the overwhelming absence of sound and saw the bathroom door was still pushed over how he’d left it, letting him know that Cas hadn’t moved.

He came back and pulled the coffee table closer, sitting down on it before setting the first aid kit down beside him, opening it up before starting to disinfect the cuts. Castiel hissed when the liquid hit the fresh wounds and Dean felt instantly guilty at the fact that he was grateful that he felt the sting.

“Sorry.” Dean mumbled, putting it away and taking out the gauze wrappings.

“It’s ‘k.” Came the quiet reply.

Dean shifted Castiel, so it looked as though he was sitting up facing him so he could wrap his legs up. Castiel’s body kept falling forward, after two minutes of trying to get him to stay leaned against the couch, Dean gave in and allowed him to lean against him, it was actually easier to wrap his legs like this, because he could easily reach the underside of the legs. Once he was done wrapping his legs, Dean shifted him back down into a laying position before getting up to go put the first aid kit in the bathroom and grabbing his pants off the floor, bringing them out so they were on the coffee table.

“Cas?” Dean whispered, looking him over for any sign of movement.

“Yeah?”

“You can’t go to sleep, you lost a lot of blood and I don’t want you to slip into a coma – that would be a kind of crappy way to end a date.” Dean joked, smiling at the fact Cas still seemed to be with him.

Castiel shifted, lifting himself up so he was leaning against the arm of the couch and blinked his eyes open slowly, clearly fighting to keep them open.

“Sorry.” Cas replied automatically.

“Don’t apologize.” Dean chastised.

“Sorry.”

“What did I just tell you?” Dean asked, carefully looking his boyfriend over and not liking how thin he’d become.

“You hungry?” Dean asked, stopping him from apologizing for a third time.

Cas’s eyes went wide with fear and he shook his head, subconsciously starting to scratch at his arms.

“Well I’m starving,” Dean began, covering his hands with his own, getting him to stop scratching, “and seems as how you’re spending the night, and the fact that I know Sam hasn’t eaten yet, I’m going to order a pizza anyway. That way if you change your mind there’s food for you to have.” Dean explained, knowing that Cas would end up eating something before he let him leave.

“Do you have money for pizza?” Cas asked nervously.

“Of course.” Dean replied with a smile, getting up to walk into the kitchen so he could call in the order.

He loved Cas to death, sure, but one thing that always bugged him about his boyfriend was the fact that he’d been brought up to think that if there was food, you ate, if there wasn’t, you didn’t. And he would fight tooth and nail to try and keep people from spending money on him, he felt guilty because he couldn’t even hope to pay them back, or even, going out of there way for him – he didn’t think he was worth it. Okay, technically that was two things, but they went hand in hand so they were really only one.

Dean phoned in the order as fast as he could, not wanting to leave Cas alone longer than he had to, especially when he was just starting to come back to the moment. Dean hung up and turned away from the wall to find Sam peering in to the doorway, sheepishly.

“You can come in Sammy, I’m not gonna bite ya.” Dean stated, smirking at his brother.

“I know that!” Sam countered, coming into the room, placing his hands on his hips and looking a damn awful lot like Mom.

“Okay, so then why’re you sneaking around?” Dean countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I-” Sam shut himself up before looking around, his eyes going wide with fright as if he heard something.

“You…?” Dean prompted, not understanding why his brother had froze.

“D-Dean?”

Dean’s head whipped around to the doorway from the living room and saw Cas leaning against it, clearly trying to catch his breath. Dean looked him over, trying to figure out why he was so winded if he just walked to kitchen, but noted that his pants were on.

“Yeah Cas? What is it?” Dean asked, looking him back over for any signs of damage or other injury.

“I, uh, I was just wondering if I could spend the night?” Cas asked, blushing and looking down.

“Yeah, of course.” Dean agreed, wondering why he’d ask such a stupid question.

Castiel smiled slightly before pushing himself off of the doorway and stumbling back into the living room.

Dean shook his head before looking back to his brother, who was standing there, pale and sweaty, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Sammy? You okay?” Dean questioned.

Sam turned to look back at his brother slowly and nodded, his eyes still wide with fear.

“I- I think I’m gonna go finish my homework.” Sam stated, turning to rush out of the kitchen.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Dean stopped him, closing the distance between them.

“Are you scared of Cas?” Dean asked, piecing it together.

“What? N-no, of course not.” Sam answered, his voice shaking.

“Okay, then why don’t you take a break and hang out with us for a bit? I ordered pizza.” Dean offered.

“He’s staying the night.” Sam replied, as if that was supposed to be an answer.

“Yeah, and we’re also dating, and I’m taller than you. Now that we’re done stating the obvious, come hang out with us.”

“No, I can’t. I have to finish my homework.” Sam said quickly.

“Sammy, come on!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Sh! Dean, be quiet!” Sam hissed, looking around frantically.

“What are you so afraid of? Mom’s not here, I can be as loud as I want!” Dean yelled.

Sam stomped his foot and pushed his bottom lip out in frustration, he couldn’t tell his brother that he was scared of his boyfriend (who looked more like a walking skeleton than a person) and he couldn’t find a sufficient lie to tell.

“I just can’t Dean, alright?” Sam replied, irritation clearly evident in his voice.

“Sammy, c’mon, just, half an hour, you need to take a break and eat something, kiddo.” Dean bargained.

“Fine, let me know when the pizza’s here.” Sam agreed before walking out of the kitchen and stomping back up the stairs to his room.

Dean sighed and shook his head – it didn’t make sense that he was scared of Cas; he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone Sam. If Cas ever was going to go postal, Dean knew who he’d go after, and he could personally guarantee that Sam (and himself) were not on the list. He walked back into the living room and plopped himself down on the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

“Dean? Is everything alright?” Cas asked from his left.

“Yeah Cas, everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Dean replied, keeping his eyes closed.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, hesitation in his voice.

“Damn it Cas! Why can’t you take yes for an answer?” Dean bellowed, bolting upright before smacking Cas in the face.

Dean blinked and saw Cas’ face look back at him in pure shock before it was covered up and the blank stare was back, tears in his eyes.

Damn it.

“No Cas-”

Cas got up and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Well at least all he can do is cry, I still got his-

Dean’s heart sped up as he patted the pocket of his shirt and didn’t feel the little blade he’d taken from his boyfriend. He reached inside his pocket and felt around – nothing. He didn’t have the blade on him anymore, and Cas just ran to the bathroom.

Shit.

Dean was up and knocking on the bathroom door before his brain had time to catch up to what he was doing.

“Cas?” Dean called nervously through the door.

How the hell did he take it without me noticing? Dean thought, knocking on the door harder.

“C’mon, Cas – open up.”

“Please, don’t do this Cas.” Dean pleaded, sliding down the door, tears stinging his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it, Cas, c’mon please.”

Dean wiped at his eyes, cursing himself for being such a girl about this.

“Okay, fine.” Dean growled under his breath before rushing forward to break the door in.

It opened with a loud crack but didn’t open all the way, only serving to worry Dean more. He managed to wiggle himself inside the bathroom and was shocked to see Cas. He was just sitting there, rocking back and forth, crying – no blood, and no blade.

“Cas?” Dean asked gently, kneeling down so he was somewhat eye level.

“W-was he right?” Cas questioned, bringing his eyes slowly up to Dean’s face.

“Who?” Dean encouraged softly.

“Brock, when he called me f-fat.” Cas explained, new tears beginning to fall.

“What? No.” Dean replied appalled – did he really think that?

“You are nowhere even near fat – you’re skinny at best.” Dean assured, sitting crossed legged, pulling the younger man into his arms.

Cas held onto his shirt in a death grip as he let himself cry, not able to hold back any longer.

“I wanted to – wanted to so bad, but I didn’t.” Cas mumbled, crying harder into his chest.

“Sh, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain to me.” Dean cooed, hugging him tighter to his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Cas apologized, his voice and heart breaking.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay. Don’t worry about it.” Dean replied, kissing the top of his head.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, letting Cas’ tears fall. He had finally stopped crying and calmed down a little, but neither man dared to move.

“I-I don’t think I want it anymore.” Cas said, breaking the silence.

“Okay.” Dean agreed, petting his hair.

“I’m scared, Dean.” Cas whispered, starting to shake slightly.

“It’s alright, Cas, I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Dean reassured.

Ding-dong!

Both boys jumped at the noise, before Dean carefully set Cas aside, so he could stand up to get the door.

“You’re sure?” Dean asked, helping Cas stand up too.

“No.”

Dean smiled sadly but nodded, he understood how hard this was going to be.

Ding-dong!

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do this now.” Dean calmed.

Cas shook his head before taking the blade out of his pocket and taking in a huge breath, walking over to the garbage can. He held it out in his hand and Dean could see he was shaking. He watched as ten different emotions flitted across his face before his expression turned hard and he tilted his hand, letting the blade fall out of it slowly. At the dull thud it made in the garbage, Cas breathed out and deflated, subconsciously placing a hand on top of his thigh.

“I am so proud of you.” Dean beamed, walking over to wrap him up in a giant bear hug.

“Really?” Cas asked with a sheepish smile as Dean set him down.

“Of course.” Dean promised with a smile.

“Now whaddya say we go get that pizza before Sam eats it all?” Dean suggested, taking Cas by the hand to lead him out of the bathroom.

“Shouldn’t we answer the door first?” Cas asked, his smile growing.

“Hey, now there’s an idea!” Dean teased, walking them out and toward the door.

He ran a little and skidded to a hault just before slamming into the door. He retched it open excitedly, and his mouth opened a little in surprise when he didn’t see the delivery guy standing there.

“Whoa, hey! Where you going with our food?” Dean called, jogging a little to catch up to the delivery guy who was walking back to the car.

After a quick pizza-money exchange, Dean walked back in, closing the door with his foot.

“Sam! Get your ass down here before we eat all the grub!” Dean called up the stairs on his way to the living room to set the pizza down.

“Hey, Dean?” Cas asked from the doorway.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, looking up from the pizza.

“Thanks.”


Like the fic? Check out more on my Throw Away Fic page

You Deserve To Be Loved

Written: 14.09.19

TW: Suicide (Mentioned)

Sabriel


“Sammy!” Gabriel yelled, sliding to his knees beside the too-still body on the bathroom floor.

Oh no, no, no! Dear God, no! Gabriel thought, eyes quickly scanning over the still growing pool of blood that the giant’s body was surrounded by.

“Sammy?” Gabriel asked, already knowing that the man in front of him wouldn’t answer.

God, no, c’mon Sammy, hold on just a little bit longer. Gabriel thought desperately, picking the giant rag doll up off the ground before zapping them in front of a hospital. He ran through the doors and looked around frantically, his voice suddenly gone as his panic began to rise. He rushed forward, to the nurses station, and still couldn’t find his voice.

“Are you okay, Sweety?” The nurse asked once she saw him standing there.

“I-” Gabriel squeaked and held up his arms as high as he could, raising Sam up as much as he could so she could see it, and why the hell was the counter so high anyway?

“Oh, dear. What’s wrong with him?” She asked, coming around the side of the counter to get a better look.

Gabriel just shook his head and stared at her, pleading for her to save his life. The nurse looked into his eyes and sighed before motioning for one of the nurses to come help.

“Alright, Sweety, here, let me take him.” She said, gently prying Sam out of Gabriel’s grasp.

“He-he tried to-”

“Code Red!” The nurse yelled, her eyes suddenly flooding with panic, now that she could see the damage.

About a dozen nurses suddenly flooded in front of Gabriel, each taking some part of Sam into their arms, all manoeuvring so he was somewhat situated on a gurney, before they raced him down the hall and out of sight.

 

 

Gabriel was still standing there, where they’d taken him away, still starring at the double swinging doors in shock. He’s not sure how long he’d been standing there but a doctor finally came back out and looked directly at him, a grim expression set on his face.

Oh, God no. No, not now, not my Sammy – please, not you, not you…

“Gabriel Winchester?” The doctor asked, looking at him expectantly.

Gabriel tried (and failed) to swallow the lump in his throat, and nodded.

“I’m Doctor Kroger.” The doctor introduced himself, Gabriel’s mind racing too much to remember the name.

“Can we talk?” He asked, gesturing to the line of chairs bolted to the wall.

Gabriel again, just nodded and followed him over, perching himself on the very edge of the seat.

“Mr. Winchester, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” He started, again looking at the angel expectantly.

“O-okay.” Gabriel nodded, his voice cracking.

“Mr. Winchester, your brother tried to kill himself. He’d slashed his arms vertically, along with the two artery’s on his legs. He’s suffering from massive blood loss, we have him hooked up to a transfuse at the moment, and a breathing ventilator. We were very lucky, if you hadn’t have found him when you did-”

“He’d be dead.” Gabriel finished, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.

The doctor nodded at him and smiled. He actually had the audacity to smile. Sam had almost died and the doctor was smiling.

The doctor went flying backwards out of his chair and only stopped sliding because he hit the nurses desk.

Gabriel blinked and looked at the doctor, then down at himself. He was certain that he didn’t actually punch him, he didn’t even feel himself move.

“Why would you punch a doctor?” One of the nurses asked, coming around to help him stand back up.

“I – I didn’t!” Gabriel stuttered, standing up, eyes going wider with panic.

The doctor’s eyes widened at this statement and he took a step to the side, before practically running back through the double doors.

“Hey! Wait!” Gabriel called out, running after the doctor.

“Can I go see Sam?” Gabriel asked, popping up in front of the doctor.

The doctor’s eyes widened and he looked behind him confused, before taking a step back from Gabriel, holding his hands up.

“Y-you’re not human.” He muttered.

Gabriel sighed and looked around the hall quickly, making sure no one else was there, before grabbing his chin, to make him look at him.

“P-please, don’t hurt me.” The doctor choked.

“When can I go see Sam?” Gabriel asked through grit teeth, trying his hardest not to break the doctor’s jaw.

“W-whenever you want.”

Gabriel sighed and let go of his face, before rubbing a hand down his own.

“What room is he in?”

“R-right there. On the left.”

Gabriel sighed again and looked into the window in the door before gasping. Sam was there, lying in the bed, hooked up to about ten different machines, his arms covered in bruises that were most definitely not there when Gabriel brought him in.

Oh, Sammy.

“W-when can I take him home?” Gabriel asked, tearing his eyes away from the man lying in bed.

Of course. Gabriel thought as he saw that he was now alone in the hall.

Gabriel took a deep breath before opening the door, slipping inside quietly. He closed and locked the door behind him before standing at the end of the bed in shock. It looked so much worse up close, now he could see the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his face, the artificial rise and fall of his chest, how greasy his hair had become along with a cut just above his left eye, a butterfly strip holding it closed.

The worst, the worst of it all was the long line of stitches that ran along the length of his arms, looking as though they were barely holding the skin in place, starting at his wrists and ending just below the crook of his elbows.

“God Sammy, what did you do?” He breathed, holding on to the end of the bed to keep himself from falling over.

It’s all my fault…Gabriel thought, coming around the side of the bed slowly.

Why did I have to do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I don’t even remember what we were fighting about…

Gabriel pulled the chair out of the corner as close to the bed as it could go before sitting down, feeling his eyes sting with tears.

I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve stayed with him, I should’ve been there to protect him. I should’ve…

Gabriel scrubbed his hands through his hair as the tears began to fall, pulling at the strands until he felt dizzy with the pain.

I don’t even remember why I was so angry, I don’t remember what we were fighting about, and you – I almost lost you because of it.

I almost lost you because of something I don’t even remember! Gabriel thought, realizing that he was no longer in the chair, but pacing behind it.

He was angry – no, screw that – he was friggin’ pissed at himself for leaving, he was pissed at the doctor’s and nurses for the bruises that were covering his baby’s sewed up arms.

Sewed up…like somebody’s broken toy. Gabriel thought bitterly, punching a hole in the wall.

Careful. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.

Gabriel was back beside the bed in an instant, crushing Sam to his chest, not caring if his tears soaked through the stupid gown he was wearing.

G-Gabriel…air.

“Right, sorry.” Gabriel let him go, and sat back in the chair, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Sam coughed a little before settling back in the bed, looking at his arms, a blush creeping up his face, and damn him, it made it impossible for Gabriel to hold onto the anger that had risen inside him.

“I guess I made it, huh?” Sam asked quietly.

Gabriel’s brain stopped for a moment at hearing how disappointed the hunter sounded.

“Yes, you did. I found you on the floor of the bathroom and I-” Gabriel cut himself off, turning away as the tears welled up again.

God, no…You weren’t supposed to find me…

Gabriel barked out a sharp little laugh and looked back to the man in the bed, who was looking at him surprised.

“Not supposed to find you? Who else did you think would find you in our house before me? What? Did you call somebody to meet you there so I wouldn’t have to find you dead on the floor?” Gabriel asked, rising to his feet.

Okay, so he lied – he was able to hold on to a little bit of his anger.

“No, I-”

“If you didn’t want me to be the one to find you then why did you do it in our house? Who else do you know would’ve beaten me home to find you? Jesus Sam! How can you say that?”

He was pacing again but he didn’t care, he was too wound up to sit down now anyway.

“Or did you mean I wasn’t supposed to find you alive? You wanted me to find you cold and blue on the floor, lying in a pool of your own blood, is that it?” Gabriel stopped pacing and turned to face the hunter, hands on his hips.

“I-I didn’t think you’d care…” Sam replied, keeping his eyes on the bed sheet.

Gabriel felt as though he was just slapped in the face.

Didn’t think I’d care? Gabriel thought bewildered.

“Of course I’d care Sam! Wait, you think that just because we had a fight means that I don’t care about you anymore?” Gabriel asked, making his way back to the chair.

Sam glanced up at him, his eyes wet and nodded before looking back down.

“God, Sammy, no – that’s not how this works. My love for you can’t just disappear at a moment’s notice. I love you more than anything else on this planet, and just because I get mad or disappointed at times doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we met and you didn’t know that my kind even existed. I loved you even more when you tried proposing to me in the coffee shop and everything went so terribly wrong and I ended up covered in coffee and whipped cream. I love everything about you, you’re my little Sammich, and even when I’m yelling at you and angry, that’s when I love you the most. Because I’m only upset at you because I care so much about you, and I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you. And sometimes the decisions you make have a potential to go terribly wrong and get you hurt, and that’s the part I get angry about. It’s that you don’t see sometimes how your plans or hunts could get you hurt, or the fact that you don’t care that you’d get hurt. That’s what makes me angry, the fact that you care so little about something I consider to be the best thing in the world.” Gabriel explained, smiling slightly.

“R-really?” Sam asked, red eyes peeking out from under the curtain of hair he had.

“Sammy.” Gabriel breathed, before crawling (carefully) into the bed with the hunter, sliding in behind him to wrap his arms around him, hugging him tight to his chest again, letting the hunter burry his head in the crook of his neck and let his tears out.

“Of course – I’ll love you forever.” Gabriel assured, kissing the top of the hunter’s head.

I’m sorry.

“Sorry for what?” Gabriel asked, petting his hair.

For scaring you. I promise it’ll never happen again.

“You promise, eh?” Gabriel questioned.

Sam sniffed and pulled his head out of the angel’s neck and nodded, holding the gaze with his puffy, red eyes.

“Good, because I don’t ever want this to happen again.”

“I- I promise – never again.” Sam agreed.

“Sammy, it’s not your fault.” Gabriel said, holding the gaze.

Sam shifted uncomfortably under the gaze and nodded.

Yeah, I know.

“It’s not your fault.” Gabriel repeated.

“Y-yeah, okay.” Sam agreed, looking down at the bed.

“It’s not your fault.”

Sam fiddled with his hands, and nodded again, eyes not meeting the angels.

“Hey – it’s not your fault.” Gabriel stated, grabbing the hunter’s chin, forcing him to look at him.

“Gabriel, stop.” Sam requested.

“It’s not your fault.” Gabriel continued.

“Gabriel, stop it.” Sam stated, slapping the angel’s hand away from his chin.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Stop it. Don’t – don’t you fuck with me.” Sam pleaded, eyes filling back up with tears.

“It isn’t your fault Sammy, it’s not.” Gabriel stated.

Such a broken sound escaped passed Sam’s lips that Gabriel thought he’d hurt him. Sam pulled Gabriel to him, holding onto him tightly, as if he would drown if he let him go and sobbed into his shirt. And for the second time that day Sam let himself break apart in front of the angel.

“Ssshhh, Sammy it’s okay.” Gabriel cooed, rubbing circles into his back.

“You’re okay, huh? You’re gonna be just fine baby.” Gabriel assured, kissing the top of his head.

They stayed like that (miraculously) until it was dark outside and Sam’s tears had dried, so he was just shaking in the arms of his husband.

Hey, Gabriel?

“Yeah?”

Why didn’t you just use your angel mojo to patch me up?

Because I knew how much you hated hospitals. Gabriel thought with a small smile.

“You ass.” Sam mumbled, but Gabriel could he the smile in his voice.

“So, whaddya say we blow this popsicle stand, hm?” Gabriel asked.

“The doctor said I could go home?” Sam asked surprised, taking his head off his angel to stare at him.

“Not exactly, but as you so eloquently put it – I’ve got angel mojo that could patch you up better than this dump.” Gabriel explained, his signature smirk in place.

“So then what are we still doing here? We’ve got movies to watch and popcorn to throw at each other.” Sam stated with a small laugh.

“See Sammy? The world’s not all bad.”

“Yeah, but there’s one thing I definitely didn’t think about.” Sam said.

“What’s that?”

“If I died, I wouldn’t have gone to Hell.”

Gabriel gave him a confused look and Sam just smiled.

“I would’ve stayed right here, having to put up with you.” Sam explained with a laugh.

“No, would’ve made sure you got stuck with being with our brothers.” Gabriel smiled.

“Oh God.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

“Guess it’s a good thing you found me when you did then.”

“Damn straight. Nobody needs to see that.”


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