Saved (Part 2)

Saved (Three) Dean

Saved (Three) 

××

Day two in the torture chamber wasn't any easier than the first. In fact, it was worse, because after being brought near to death for the eighth time in the last two days, Castiel realized that it was actually working.

He could feel the emptiness surrounding him. The cold bitter hate start to encase its way around his heart and that only meant one thing: Cas was losing; and He was winning.

And they both knew it.

"Dean..." Castiel whimpered out, his eyes sliding shut as his body throbbed with pain. He couldn't believe the irony of it all. He had ran away to avoid pain, and yet here he was, enduring the worst kind of pain anyone could ever face: the pain of heartbreak and of death.

Because Castiel knew that he wouldn't last much longer. And he didn't know what was worse. Enduring the pain, or actually embracing the darkness that was trying to overcome him.

"Dean..." He breathed out.

Save me.

××

I gritted my teeth as pain shot through my body, feeling bits of blood drip down my back as I held onto the beer bottle in my hand. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to punch the guy beside me and tell him to shut the hell up because there were worse things in the world than losing your job. But instead, I pushed down the pain and the anger and made myself calmly raised the bottle and take a sip from it, because the last thing I needed was to drag attention to me. 

Especially since Sam was already on edge with leaving me here alone. 

I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. He was afraid to be around me but even more afraid of not being around me. How twisted was that?

I started to take another sip when I gasped, feeling the bones in my toes break one by one. This was agony. Torture. Because I knew that in a few minutes they'd be repaired again, only to be broken once more. It's because of that damn bond I have to him, I thought with a sigh, ordering another beer from the bartender, glad that I had chosen to wear my leather jacket to hide the wounds. 

I don't know why I thought leaving the hotel room was a good idea. Or why I kept drinking when the alcohol did little to help, but anything had to be better than staying locked up in that shitty motel room.  Because thinking about Cas and how he left me only made me feel crappier.

Especially since this was all my fault.

I winced as I felt something harsh slap against my back, feeling my skin sting and welt under my t-shirt.

This was exactly what I've been feeling for the past three days. One second I would think that I was fine and then suddenly it would be like my skin was being attacked by an army of bees. At first it started off as little chest pains, but with every day that passed it was like the pain kept growing stronger and stronger.

And I was afraid to think of what it all meant.

What was happening to Cas? Where was he? Who was doing this to him? And did this really mean that we would both die together, like Trevor said we would?

It made my heart ache just thinking about it, because what about Sammy? What would he do without me? And it was that thought process that led me to going out to the nearest bar and drowning my sorrows and worries with cheap beer, because what else was I supposed to do?

I was in pain, both physically and emotionally. I didn't have Sam to keep me distracted from my bond, and now I had this intense yearning for Castiel and a huge fucking mark on my back that hurt like a bitch. And usually whenever I was down, I'd just get drunk and sleep it away, but honestly, I was afraid to go back asleep. I just...I just couldn't stand seeing any of that anymore. It was like having the worst nightmare imaginable, except instead of waking up scared and terrified, you woke up hurt as well.

"You shouldn't be here," A voice sang from my left and I frowned, turning over to see that it was a woman, her dark eyes staring down at her drink before she looked over at me and smirked. A smirk that said she was more dangerous than she looked.

I narrowed my eyes the slightest bit. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" I asked gruffly and she chuckled, popping a olive into her mouth and flashing me her pearly whites.

"No, but I know you," She answered in that sing-song tone of hers, "You're Dean Winchester. A vampire," She whispered loudly, and I choked, hitting my chest and quickly glancing around us.

"Keep your voice down, will ya?" I hissed and she only shrugged her shoulders in response, taking another sip of her drink.

I rolles my eyes. "Besides that doesn't explain anything. You said that I shouldn't be here, what do you mean by that?"

"Obviously I meant that you should be out there looking for your mate instead of trying to get piss drunk at some dingy bar. What was his name again? Castiel?"

I growled and grabbed her neck, leaning in close so that our positions would look more intimate than violent, because the last thing I needed right now was the cops on my tail.

"Why, Dean, I didn't know you were so forward," she started but I tightened my grip around her neck and that shut her up pretty quickly. Good.

"Stop playing games. I'm not in the mood. Who are you? And how the hell do you know about Cas?" I growled and she had the audacity to smirk at me, her own smaller hand curling firmly around my wrist.

"Cas? Aw, how cute."

"Answer me!" I demanded, lowering my voice when people started to look over. She rolled her eyes and tried prying my fingers off but ended up sighing in defeat instead.

"The name's Meg and I suggest you let me go if you know what's good for you."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I know exactly where they're keeping lover boy, you ass."

Oh.