Paint you Wings (Destiel)

Chapter 11 - The Nightmare that became reality

Castiel's P.O.V.

I already had had a bad feeling when I had woken up this fatal morning. I had started it like usually though, meaning I had made Dean eat a slice of toast (of which he had eaten just one half – which was less than normally), showered and got ready for Sam's and my usual trip to the town – he needed some books and it kind of had become a tradition between the two of us to just sit down in a café and talk about everything that has happened between our chats.

We obviously had tried to convince Dean to come with us, knowing that if he was left alone something terrible would happen. But he denied every single request and just told us that he was feeling well, so he would just lie down a bit and sleep. Both Sam and I didn't feel too comfortable with leaving him at the foster home and even offered to just go to the town at another day but he quickly made clear that he wouldn't let that happen. Instead of arguing further we just went to the town... and left Dean alone.

Thankfully Sam had shared this bad feeling I had throughout the whole time, so we decided to cut the time short and just go back home with some slices of Dean's favourite pie in hope we could get him to eat at least a little bit. But now those slices probably were in the trash or maybe they still were on the floor where I had let the container fall as I had seen what... what happened to Dean.

We had rushed home, looking forward to surprising Dean but as we didn't found him, both Sam and I had started to panic. We instantly had run to the bathroom and of course we had found it locked. As he noticed that Sam had started crying almost instantly, just like he already knew what we would find on the other side of the door. I, on the other hand, didn't – couldn't – believe that my worst nightmare had become true.

Instead of panicking the same way Sam was at this moment – which would be completely understandably to be quite honest – my mind fell into a completely calm mode. In this moment it had definitely helped me to give Sam some kind of reassurance so he could calm down just a little bit. I told him to run and find the spare keys for the bathroom our foster dad kept somewhere and stayed in front of the door. I kept banging on it, begging Dean to open that goddamn door, praying that we were there just in time and he wouldn't have tried to end it all.

But he had tried to – and almost succeeded. If Sam had just needed two more minutes to find the keys, if we had needed just ten seconds longer to unlock the bathroom door, if I hadn't pulled Dean out of the terrifyingly cold water instantly and told Sam to call an ambulance that would save his older brother – Dean would definitely have succeeded.

Looking back I didn't know how I had been able to act so calm earlier, didn't know how I had managed not to break down but now? Now it was a whole different story.

Right now Sam and I were sitting in the waiting room of the closest hospital where they had taken Dean, both of us bawling and hoping that Dean would end up just fine and nothing horrible had happened. We both knew though that this wouldn't be the case because those cuts on his arms... they had been so deep and he had lost so much blood, especially in the cold water of the tub he had been lying in but instead of no colour like it would usually have the water had been blood red.

Luckily I had noticed the containers that once held pain killers and sleeping pills. I didn't know how I had managed to react that fast but after I had lifted Dean's motionless body out of the water I had instantly shoved my fingers down his throat in order to make him throw up. I didn't know if it would have any success but I had to try and at least get those pills out of his stomach.

Now bits of puke were covering me and my clothes were stained with blood – Dean's blood. I looked like I had just killed someone in the most horrible way possible and not like I had just saved someone's life.