CHAPTER 5 - A Broken Boy

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"I would burn in hell to keep you safe."
-Michael Corleone, The Godfather Part III

Castiel and Dean barely spoke on the way to Castiel's house, but they were okay with that. Castiel was too busy recalling the events of the day to notice that they had pulled into his driveway. And by then it was too late to act normal. His uncle was home.

"Oh, no," Cas whispered, terror filling his eyes. Dean heard him and directed his attention to Castiel.

"What's wrong?" he asked, to which Castiel replied, "Nothing," a little too quickly and with a noticeably forced smile.

"Cas, come on. What's the matter?"

Castiel sighed and said, "M-my uncle. He's gonna wonder why I'm home before school's over...and I just can't take any more of him right now." Dean understood, to which Castiel was grateful that he didn't have to press further into his home life.

"Don't worry about it. We'll just go hang out somewhere until school ends and then I'll bring you back home. Deal?" Dean said reassuringly.

Castiel smiled slightly and opened his mouth to respond, but it wasn't his voice that came booming through.

"CASTIEL NOVAK! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Metatron screamed.

Castiel looked over to see his uncle on a full rampage to the car. Castiel's breathing became raspy and uneven as he prepared for the worst. He hoped to hell that Dean would see how terrified he was and drive away with him, and never look back. But Dean simply grabbed his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze before he whispered, "Everything is going to be fine." It was a nice gesture, but it wasn't enough to calm Cas down.

When Metatron reached the car, he began pounding on the window and yelling for Castiel to get out. Dean insisted that Cas not get out before he did, but Castiel told him to leave. He thought it better for Dean not to witness the wrath of his uncle.

Dean knew there was no point in arguing, so he gave Castiel his number and told him to call or text him if he needed anything. He gave him one last regretful look before Cas stepped out of the car. He watched as Castiel walked into the house behind the short man with a shorter fuse. He waited a good minute and a half before driving off. He had nothing else to do, so he went back to the school parking lot and waited until Sam came out. His mind was only on Castiel.

~

It had been nearly four hours since Dean had last spoken to Castiel. He had picked up Sam and was home now. Well, not home...but the motel room he and Sam had been staying in for the past week. Dean worked three jobs just to keep up with rent.

Dean was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground, praying for something to free his mind from Castiel. He didn't have much time to think before his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He pulled it out as quick as he could. It was a text from an unknown number, which Dean only assumed to be Castiel. Instant panic washed over him as he read the text:

'Help'

Dean sprang up from the couch and ran out the door, not even bothering to answer a confused Sam's questions. He hastily made his way to his car and cursed himself for fumbling with the keys for so long.

Within eight minutes, Dean was at Castiel's house. He ran up to the door, pounded on it, and waited a good thirty seconds of no response to maneuver his way inside.

"CAS?" he called. There was no answer. Before Dean did anything else, he peered out the front door he had opened and looked for any signs of another car. When he saw none, he thanked his lucky stars that Castiel's uncle wasn't home: he hadn't thought to check when he first arrived.

Dean called Castiel's name out again, and ceased all movement, listening for even the slightest acknowledgement that he wasn't talking to himself. From the upstairs corridor he heard what sounded like a cabinet door being leaned upon, and another noise which sounded like someone trying to twist a doorknob, though a door never opened.

And then he heard it. Barely above a whisper, the voice of a broken boy with a broken body said, "D-dean..."

And that was all Dean needed to hear before sprinting up the stairs. There was only one closed door in the small hallway, so it wasn't hard for Dean to assume where Cas was. He reached the door and attempted to turn the knob. It was locked. He tried to shove it open by force, but the door wouldn't budge.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled. "Cas, step back."

Dean could hardly make out Castiel's response over the sound of his heart beating out of his chest. His voice was small and broken, but it said, "W-why?"

Dean sighed and was immensely saddened at the thought of Castiel in so much pain. And an overwhelming feeling overtook him, a need to see this boy and make sure he was okay.

"Castiel, for the love of all that's good in this world, please...get back from the door!"

Dean heard shuffling around and could only hope that Castiel moved away from the door. He took a great step back before he kicked the door open. It hit the wall with a profound thud and the sight that Dean's eyes met with was enough to break his heart.

Castiel looked horrible. His right eye was swollen shut. There were small gashes all along his face, as if someone had put on a ring and hit him endlessly with it. His lip was split open and blood poured from it. He was holding his left wrist with great care in his right hand. It was enlarged and purple and looked extremely painful. His white shirt was ripped open around the stomach and...burnt. Castiel looked as if he was barely holding it together.

Dean wanted more than anything to run to Cas and hold him, tell him he was going to be okay...but he was frozen.

"D-dean..." Cas said. And that was all he could remember before he fell to the ground. And that was what snapped Dean out of his trance. He swiftly reached out his arms and caught Castiel before his head made contact with the floor.

Before Dean knew it he was carrying Castiel out of the house and was driving towards his motel room. He had laid Castiel along the backseat and looked back at him every chance he got to make sure he was alright.

By the time they made it to the hotel room, Castiel was mumbling in his sleep. He sounded distressed and scared, if that was even possible when you were asleep. But it was still enough to make Dean feel guilty for not staying with Castiel.

Dean didn't notice that Sam wasn't there...he had other things on his mind.

He carried Cas over to his bed and gently laid him down before retrieving the first aid kit from the bathroom. The first thing he cleaned was his face. He dabbed a cloth with water and wiped up all of the blood. He then put a cool cloth over his right eye in an attempt to make the swelling cease.

He then moved to Castiel's wrist. It was a very disturbing sight, and Dean could tell just by picking it up that it was completely shattered.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next. He moved over to Cas' stomach and gently cut the remainder of the shirt open with the pair of scissors in the first aid kit. What he saw was truly horrific. There were burn marks all along his stomach. Some were white and had since faded, but some were still pink and fleshy, and the rest were fresh from this night and still open and blistering.

Dean thanked any higher power in the world that Castiel wouldn't be awake for how much it was going to hurt to clean him up.

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