{First SPN Fic, alright, here we go y'all!}

Dean stumbled into the motel room, throwing his duffle bag to the floor and racing toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and sliding down the smooth wood, back pressed against it.

Sammy.

He'd abandoned Sammy.

Of all the people—

He buried his face in his hands, refusing to let the tears fall as he thought of Sam two towns away,no idea why his big brother ran away.

Frankly, neither did Dean.

He just needed to get away.

It was no secret that the Winchester brothers were self-destructive in almost every sense of the phrase. They's died for each other more times than he could count. But now Sammy was doing the Trials. He'd killed the Hell Hound, despite Dean's efforts to keep him far away.

He was on the path alone now.

And it was all Dean's fault.

He'd seen Sam cough up the blood. The younger had thought he had hidden it, but the elder had seen the red glisten on his palm as he wiped his mouth.

Now Sam was alone while Dean had a mental breakdown in some crappy motel bathroom miles away.

With shaky hands, he removed his pocket knife from his back pocket, flicking it open and staring at it with a sick sense of awe.

It would break Sammy's heart.

But he needed to feel something.

Slowly, as if he was moving through syrup, Dean raised the blade, pressing it to his skin and dragging it across, watching the blood pool and drip down his arm.

The relief was almost instantaneous, to the point where the hunter barely even felt the pain. It felt like the disappointment and unbelievable amount of suffering he'd inflicted on others was slowly being forced onto himself, something he felt like he greatly deserved.

Standing, he gripped the edge of the tiny sink in one hand while he made another cut, deeper and longer, letting the blood flow into the basin.

With every cut he made, he put a name to it, representing the people he'd failed the most.

His mom.

Slice.

His dad.

Slice.

Bobby.

Slice.

Lisa and Ben.

Slice. Slice.

Sammy.

Slice, slice, slice.

Cas.

At this point Dean was shaking visibly. His skin looked like it had gone through a shredder. The once-white sink was stained red. He stared in the mirror as he thought of all the times he'd let the angel down.

Nearly saying 'yes' to Michael.

Losing faith in him.

Leaving him with Meg in a mental hospital.

Being unable to save him from Purgatory.

The elder Winchester was gripping the sink with both hands now, knuckles white. Tears he didn't even realize had fallen splashed into it, mixing with the blood.

'I'm so sorry, Cas.'

With a deep breath, he began to rinse off the mangled flesh of his arm, wincing slightly as the cold water came in contact with the numerous open wounds.

"Dean."

He jumped at the sound of his name, hissing softly as his arm collided with the faucet. "Dammit, Cas! You can't sneak up on people like that!" He didn't turn around, watching the angel through the mirror,breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"I...I'm sorry, I though you called." Dean watched as Cas' head tilted in confusion. "Why were you apologizing?"

The Winchester grit his teeth. "Doesn't matter. Just...get out of here, Cas!" He gestured widely over his shoulder toward the door. It wasn't until he looked into the mirror again and saw Cas staring at the flecks of blood that now decorated his trench coat that he had gestured with his still-bleeding arm.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine." The amount of venom in his voice could have even Sam backing away, but the angel only stepped closer.

"Here, let me—"

"No!" Dean whirled around, ducking away from Cas' outstretched hand and backing into the wall. "Don't touch me!" He closed his eyes, pressing his head against the wall, unable to bear looking at his friend. When he gathered up the courage to open them, Cas was staring at him, blue eyes wide with horror, confusion, and fear as his gaze flitted between the hunter's face, arm, and the pocket knife that had, at some point, fallen from his hand adn clattered to the floor. "Dammit, Cas," he muttered softly.

"Dean, I don't understand—"

"You wouldn't." The smirk he had hidden behind his whole life was now plastered across his face. "With your feathery ass sitting all up on your high-horse and not giving a damn about us..." He took a shaky breath. "No, I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Cas clearly wasn't getting it. "Dean, please, just let me—" He attempted to reach out to him once more.

"No, Castiel!" He didn't miss the way the angel flinched when he spoke his full name. "I did this to myself for a reason! When you messed up, you said your 'penance' was staying in Purgatory, well this is mine! My punishment!" His voice broke. "Sammy's doing the Trials, Cas. He's dying and I...I can't save him. The one job I was given, to hold above all else, was to protect my little brother...and I can't even do that right. I'm a failure, Cas! A Goddamn failure!" Dean turned his back on the angel, resting his forehead against the wall as he cried, the only sound in the room being his gasping breaths.

"Dean. Turn around...please."

"Cas—"

"Please, Dean."

The elder Winchester obeyed, surprised to find Cas suddenly so close. The angel took one more step forward so their chests were almost touching. Clear blue eyes met forest green.

"I believe..." Cas said slowly, "there is a ritual humans perform to show that they care about another."

"And what would that be, Cas?"

The angel's gaze flitted to the floor briefly before he cupped the back of Dean's head with his hand and brought their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise before practically melting into the angel, pulling him closer and gripping him like a lifeline as Cas wrapped his arms around his neck. The hunter's mind was at ease as he felt the warm tingle of Cas' Grace flood over him, healing the dull, throbbing pain in his arm in a second. Eventually they parted to breathe, foreheads pressed together.

"I love you," Dean panted, voice shaking and strained as he continued to cling to the angel in his arms. "God, I love you so much, for years, I..." Tears made their unwanted appearance yet again, rolling down his cheeks. "I-I was so scared to admit it, to say it, b-because the last person I said it to..." Images of the fire burned behind his closed eyelids, and he buried his face in Cas' shoulder.

"I know, Dean. I know. I love you, too, from the moment I put you back together again in Hell." Dean could feel the soothing pulse of Cas' Grace, calming him and lulling him to sleep. The last thing he heard was his angel's rough voice whispering in his ear.

"It's time to go home, Dean."

THE END.