Dean sat on his bed, switching the razor blade between his fingers. Sam was out on a run so he had a good hour before needing to worry about an interrupting moose. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing the blade to his inner wrist.
The previous cuts have mostly healed or scabbed over. Dean’s learned to place them strategically so they could be passed off as hunting scars. Tonight, he wasn’t gonna bother to be so careful. The winter months were coming so he’d be covered to heal before his arms were on display again.
Dean angled the blade so the corner dug into the tanned skin. With a steady pressure and a gentle pull, he slid the blade across the width of his wrist. His lips appeared slightly darker due to the pressure of his teeth as he bit down, quieting his whimper. The warmth of the whiskey in his belly and the blood dripping down his arm caused a medley of goosebumps at the base of his neck.
He repositioned the razor slightly below the first cut and began his second incision. Dean hissed as the skin was thicker than the first cut. But, he relished in the pain. This was the only way he could feel something other than loneliness. The blade reached a vein and his hand drained a bit of color. Dean continued the drag of the blade for five more cuts. When the seventh cut caused a verbal whine, he decided it was time to stop for tonight.
Dean had prepared for the blood. He had gauze and hydrogen peroxide in his nightstand. However, he had not prepared for a certain trenchcoat-wearing angel to fly into his room.
Castiel had been keeping his eye on Dean for some time. The hunter’s drinking habits had become excessive and he’d been spending significant amounts of time alone. Cas had alerted Sam and they decided it would be best to keep Dean under watch. Naturally, when Sam left for his run, Castiel quietly flew into the bunker. He kept his ears open for any signs of duress from Dean, but would otherwise not blow his cover. However, when Dean had cried out, Cas had to check on him. Castiel flew in so as not to give the hunter time to hide anything. When Cas landed, his heart dropped to his stomach.
For the first time in years, Castiel felt physically sick. Seeing Dean with blood running down his forearm and a razor blade alternating between his fingers caused a reaction Cas had never experienced before; tears.
Dean looked up at the crying angel with wide eyes, “Cas, what the hell are you doing here?”
Castiel wiped his face haphazardly, “I’m here to watch you, Dean. I wasn’t supposed to interfere unless you were hurt. Dean, what are you doing to yourself?” The angel was so angry and confused by the hunter’s behavior.
“‘s none of your business, Cas,” Dean grabbed a pile of gauze and wiped up his arm.
“Dean, you’re hurt,” Castiel took a few steps towards the bed.
Dean pointed the blade at Cas, making the angel stop his steps, “No, Cas, ‘m not. I feel a little better now. You can go, okay?”
“Dean, please, let me help you. I can fix this.”
“Damnit, Cas. It’s not broken!” Dean pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his clean arm around his middle, crying silently.
“Dean. I can help you,” Castiel pleaded, slowly inching his way closer to the bed.
“I can’t do it anymore, Cas. I’m just so lonely,” Dean sobbed into his chest.
Castiel sat down next to Dean on the bed, “Dean, you’re not alone anymore. I’m right here.” He gingerly wrapped his arms around the hunter, careful not to frighten him. When Dean began to relax a little in his arms, Cas pulled Dean into his chest and applied more pressure to the hug, simulating something similar to a weighted blanket.
Dean’s tears fell less and less frequently until they finally stopped. He looked up at his guardian angel, “Thank you, Cas. ‘m sorry.”
Castiel looked down at him, “You have nothing to be sorry about. I have saved you from Hell once and I’d do it a thousand times over. You are my life, Dean Winchester. Now, may I please heal you?”
Dean looked at Cas with watery eyes and slowly nodded his head.
Castiel took Dean’s arms in his hands and gently brought his neck down. He healed every cut Dean had given himself with soft kisses. When he finished, he pressed a tentative kiss to Dean’s temple.
Dean looked down at his arm then up at Cas, “You didn’t make them go away.”
Cas sighed, “Dean, I will never erase what’s a part of you. Every single one of your scars shows just how strong you are.”
“I love you, Cas.”
“And I love you, Dean Winchester.”
“Please don’t leave me.”
“Not even Lucifer himself could keep me away from you.”