Burned - Destiel

XXII

A/N: I decided to make this fic a bit longer. Thank all of you who shared your opinions! Short warning though, it's not a happy extention.

Enjoy!

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"Dean, hey. Focus. What happened?"

Dean looked up slowly upon seeing and hearing fingers snap to get his attention. He looked at the man in front of him almost dangerously calm. However, he didn't feel calm. He was angry, pissed, livid. He was sad, heartbroken, mourning. He was insecure, anxious and terrified. But he looked calm.

"My-" he started. He noticed how Chuck moved in his seat. Whether it was because it was the first time he ever heard him speak or because of what he was about to say, he didn't know.

"My dad had a stroke. He's in the hospital right now," he spoke slowly, as if processing it himself. He sounded drained and emotionless, which was the only emotion he showed in the first place. Chuck stayed quiet, but Dean could see the worry grow in his eyes. "The doctor said they would do anything they could to help."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. When did this happen?" the man asked. Dean looked at the clock on his right, checking the time. It was now 6:13 PM

"Two hours ago," he replied. Chuck eyed him warily.

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital with Sam? Speaking of which, where is your little brother?"

"Bobby's with him," he replied succinctly. He tapped his foot on the ground nervously, biting his lip. Had it been a good decision coming here? Chuck would try to obtain as much information as possible, even the answers to questions Dean didn't want him to ask.

"That doesn't answer the question, Dean. Why are you here instead of the hospital?" Dean looked at Chuck, his expression changing into one with a lack of emotion once again. He lifted his walls again, beating himself up inwardly for letting them down.

"I don't like hospitals," he replied, if course, lying.  Chuck laid down the pen he was holding and looked at him worriedly. Dean faked a smile, trying to reassure the man that he was fine. Of course, that wasn't the reason why he had hurriedly escaped that God forsaken place. He couldn't look his brother in the eye after what had happened.

"Why did you come here, Dean?" the therapist asked him. Dean had to think about this question for a minute, before he just shrugged. Chuck sighed and exited his chair. He knelt down in front of the boy, laying his hands on Dean's knees. His blue eyes reflected a worry that Dean wished to see in his own father's eyes, which broke his heart for the millionth time these past hours.

"I'm not saying this as a therapist, I'm saying this because you're my son in law. Why are you not in the hospital?"

"I can't," was all he whispered. He took a deep, not wanting to cry. He couldn't look away from the man. Chuck made sure of that by holding his jaw gently, but he wanted to divert his gaze so badly.

"Why can't you?" the man asked carefully. Dean bit his lower lip as one tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek.

"Because it's my God damn fault."

TWO HOURS EARLIER

"I love you too, Cas. I'll see you tomorrow, OK? Bye." Dean smiled at his phone as he ended the call. For the first time in forever, he felt so happy. At home, things were fine. With Cas, things were more than fine. His voice was back. Everything had been great.

He picked up his homework and started listening to some music Cas had gotten for his nineteenth birthday. The boy had made a mixtape for him because that was all Dean owned. It had been very sweet and Dream instantly fell in love with the songs on the mixtape.