Chapter Text

Of all the things Dean called Cas, “useless” was probably the most hurtful. Hurtful because it was in public, a diner, and in front of Sam. Cas turned and looked out the window. Sam noticed the hurt in Cas’s face. He talked to Cas afterwards.

“It’s no big deal, Sammy,” Cas assured him, he was used to it by now.

“All right,” Sam didn’t believe Cas for a second, “But, you know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, Sam,” He said, “I know.”

…

“Talking to Sammy, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Cas said.

“So, what’s going on with you two?” Dean was trying to start an argument again.

Cas gulped, thinking his words through carefully. He couldn’t help but notice the grip Dean held on the kitchen knife.

“Just some friendly banter, Dean,” Cas chuckled nervously.

Dean smiled.

“You’re a bad liar, Cas,” He said.

It was amazing how quickly Dean could go from a laughing, friendly guy to a hateful ball of anger. He loosened his grip on the knife and made his way toward Cas.

“I’m not lying, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean grabbed Cas by the shirt.

“Stay away from my brother,” He threatened.

He threw Cas into the table, Cas’s forehead banging against the edge, beginning to bleed. It was the first time Dean had hit him.

…

“Good god, man!” Balthazar exclaimed, “What happened to your eye?”

He and Cas were out at the bar. Dean would probably be pissed, but it was worth it to see one of his old high school friends again.

“Oh, I just ran into an open cabinet the other day,” Cas said.

Balthazar took a drink from his glass.

“So…why’d he hit you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know when you’re bs-ing me Cas,” Balthazar said, “Now, what really happened?”

“I got into a fight with Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas continued, “I made him angry, so he hit me.”

“Man, I don’t know shit about relationships but that’s fucked up.”

…

There was a time when Cas left Dean. In fact, there were many times, but this was just the first. Dean had been pissed all morning, which is why Cas was avoiding him. Cas did everything: made breakfast, cleaned the dishes, took out the trash. It wasn’t enough for Dean, though. It was late afternoon on a Saturday in August when Dean flew off the handle at Cas. It started with Dean grabbing Cas’s hair, causing him to jump.

“You disgust me,” Dean whispered, in a husky and threatening voice.

“I’m sorry,” Cas pleaded, though not sure what for.

Dean slapped him.

“Shut up!” He commanded.

Cas watched Dean, anticipating his next move, whether he should run or not. Dean let go of his hair, went behind Cas and shoved him to his knees. Cas whimpered. Dean removed his belt and wrapped it around Cas’s neck, then pulled. Cas gasped for air, nearly passed out, and finally was let go. Cas crawled away, but yelped as he was pulled back.

“Dean…”

“I said shut up,” Dean demanded.

Cas stood up, and was punched. Dean kept hitting him, but Cas wasn’t taking any of it. He searched for a knife. When he found one, he held it to Dean’s throat. Suddenly, Dean became the victim.

“Cas, please,” Dean begged, “Don’t.”

It was a trick. Get Cas to put the knife down, then turn on him. Cas prevailed.

“I’m leaving,” Cas said, simple and calm.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Okay.”

Cas’s heart was racing as he released Dean, got the keys and put down the knife, then went out the front door. In the car, he got out his phone and called Sam.

“Hey Cas,” Sam said cheerfully, “Long time, no see. What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Can I come over?”

“Uh…I guess so,” Sam answered.

Cas sighed in relief.

“All right,” He said, “Be there in a few.”

…

Sam was shocked at what appeared on his doorstep; a bloody and bruised Castiel.

“Hey Sam,” Cas stated simply.

“What happened to you?” Sam yelled.

Cas flinched. Sam led him inside.

“I left Dean,” Another simple statement.

“I meant what happened to your face?” Sam asked.

Cas took a deep breath, unsure if Sam would believe him.

“Dean…” Cas started, then stopped.

“Dean? What about Dean?”

Cas froze. He couldn’t bring himself to tell. Luckily, Sam come to that conclusion on his own.

“Did he do this?” Sam asked.

“He gets…yeah.”

Sam didn’t want to believe that Dean, his older and very caring brother, would hurt someone like that. The evidence, however, was literally staring him in the face.

“Cas…”

“I know he’s your brother.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll let him treat you like this,” Sam defended.

“So you believe me?”

“Of course,” Sam said, “Dean is my brother, but I’m not going to turn away and let him hurt you.”

“Thank you, Sammy.”

…

Sam talked to Dean later on the phone.

“I know he’s with you, Sammy,” Dean said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Who else would he run to?” Dean rationalized, “Let me talk to him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He left for a REASON, Dean!”

“What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t TELL me anything,” Sam said, “The bruises and bloody nose speaks for itself.”

“You think I did that?”

“Am I supposed to believe Cas beat HIMSELF up?” Sam grew angry at Dean’s denial.

Dean was silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, and hung up.

Sam turned to see Cas behind him.

“Was that Dean?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said, “He wanted to talk to you.”

Cas groaned. He was only making it harder on himself. Sam hugged him.