Everything Is Destiel And Nothing Hurts

A/N: Highschool AU. Jimmy is dying, Castiel is hurting, and Dean is confusing.
Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST. Homophobia like whoa, non-specific terminal illness, bullying out the wazoo. 

It starts on a Tuesday. The second day of the school year. He's honestly surprised that the news has managed to spread quite so quickly. 

His friends, with whom he has completely lost interest in, try to be there for him; to comfort him, as if they understand... 

They don't. 

They don't know what it's like to have a brother who is dying. A twin, of all things. That myth about twins being able to feel each other's pain? Truth. Castiel feels trapped inside his own body when Jimmy isn't there; like he isn't really there, either.

School is a cruel, cruel place. 

They shove him up against the lockers on his way to class. The corridors clear, one after another; Castiel watches people ignore the helpless look in his eyes until everywhere is completely empty. 

The back of his head hits the bathroom door. 

"We heard about your brother." He hears one of them snarl. There are around five of them; each of them, football players. One of them, the captain. There's no way that Castiel can fight them off. He daren't look up as a hand knots in the fabric of his jumper and he's pushed up against a cubicle wall. 

"Where is he now, huh? Lying in some hospital bed, all alone? You gonna bury that son of a bitch soon?"

Tears sting Castiel's eyes as he forces them not to spill. A lump in his throat. His head is smacked against the cubicle wall, and he hears something crack. 

He thought he'd gotten used to the bullying, but it's different, when they're talking about Jimmy like that. He's avoided thinking about the inevitable death of his twin, and they're forcing him to. 

Blood mixes with tears as they crawl, like insects, down his face. They drop onto the collar of his crisp, white shirt. Stained. 

"Aw, is baby gonna cry?" It's a different voice now; nasal and leering. Castiel can't decide which he hates more. "You know that it's your fault he's dying, right? God hates you, faggot, and that's why he's killing your brother." 

"Slowly, painfully." A third party adds. "God wants you both to suffer. Your mother, too, for giving birth to such a fugly queer." 

It's so much worse than when he was just a 'lonely, weirdo, faggot.' He hates that they're using Jimmy against him. It makes him want to hurl. 

"We've got a present for you today, Cassie. Haven't we, boys?" A fourth voice interjects, and before Castiel can even register it, there are fingers slipping under the waistband of his school slacks, pulling them down, and then more hands, bringing him to the floor. He squeals in protest, trying to kick them away, but there are one set of hands on his feet, one holding down his arms, and another, over his mouth. 

Then he feels it. Cold. Hard. Blade. 

He tries to scream for help through the barrier, licking and biting at the palm clamped over his mouth, but all that gets him is a gross taste in his mouth. He can feel blood trickling down the inner part of his thigh, falling onto the floor, as the blade is dragged across it over and over again. 

"Come on, Dean," Castiel hears, opens his eyes to see a fifth member of the gang, standing there, watching. "You gonna just stand there?"

Captain of the football team looks like he wants to vomit as much as Castiel does. 

"Uh... no." He mutters, and then he's at Castiel's side, covering his eyes with a large hand. The feeling of trickling blood is most unnerving, especially when all that you can hear is the manic laughter of everyone around you. 

"Alright,” One of them chuckles. “Masterpiece completed."

They let him up, but he doesn't move. His head is banging, his leg is singing. He looks down to see the word 'faggot' carved into his skin, and whimpers.

"We trust you enough to clean yourself up..." One of the boys speaks to Castiel directly, now. "And if you dare tell anyone about this, know that we've got other punishments waiting." 

Castiel watches helplessly as they leave. His crying is shameless. Is it selfish of him to think that all he needs right now is Jimmy? If anything, Jimmy should be needing him. 

The door swings open again and Castiel holds his breath. He prays that they turn around and leave without seeing. Or at least, that they help him, instead of laughing and taking pictures.