Hey there.

This story is marked as complete, as it technically is, but I'll be uploading it in chapters. I'll post 1 chapter a day, which will put the final chapter up on Thursday. If you'd like to wait to read it until then, feel free. I'll also make a master-post of stuff related to this on my tumblr and lj on Friday, unless I have time on Thursday. So, there that is.

On another word, this deals with injuries and self-hatred and fear. Dean's got a mental disorder, so if that could be risky for you, I ask you to be careful.

Anyway, that's all. I hope you enjoy.

The air was filled with dust and Dean couldn't breathe, nothing but screams coming out and dirt coming in. The ground beneath his body was soaked with blood, the dirt clumping together, but he pushed on.

Others were screaming around him, and he tried to help, pushing passed a few bodies, but it was useless. Another explosion rumbled the ground, and dirt and debris flew passed him, and then he couldn't see or feel anything but black and the pain shooting all over his face.

He screamed and writhed on the ground, but his sight was gone, and he could feel blood dripping in to his mouth and he knew he was going to die. This was what death felt like, he assumed. Darkness and pain. He was just waiting for the end where it all fell silent, but it never came. It never would.

Dean awoke in a cold sweat, chilled droplets clinging to his forehead and neck, the hollows of his cheeks damp compared to his mouth, which felt empty and barren.

He fumbled around the side of his bed for something– anything he could use to satiate himself. His fingers grazed against a water bottle he'd placed at the edge of his mattress for just this reason, but it rolled off the tips and off the edge of his bed.

"Fuck," he muttered hoarsely, rolling to the edge, stretching down to try and grab it, but it'd disappeared under his bed frame, and he didn't have the energy to waste on trying to fish it out. He pushed himself up in to a sitting position, letting the dizzying effects of sleep wear off before attempting to stand, only wobbling for a moment before he was able to stumble off to his bathroom.

He flicked on the sink, letting the water run for a quick second before cupping his hands, filling them and bringing them to his lips, gulping down handfuls of it. Water splashed over his face with every gulp, and he took a moment to catch his breath before cupping another handful, letting it fall down the sink as he broke the link he had.

Cupping his hands once more, he only filled them a bit, rubbing the water over his face this time. The liquid stung at his wounds and cuts, but he didn't stop or hold back. He turned off the water, grabbing a rag, patting his face dry harshly, holding back a hiss with every press. He deserved the pain.

"Sleep well?" A voice asked behind Dean, and he startled, turning around with wide eyes to see his lumbering tree of a brother leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom.

"What's it matter to you?" He shook his head, walking toward the exit. Sam moved for him. "Why are you here? Why are you awake?"

"It's nine in the morning."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?" He pushed passed Sam, making his way back in to his room.

Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Dean. It's nine. Time to wake up."

"Why?"

"I…" Sam sighed, dropping his hand from him. "I was hoping you'd come out today. I've gotta go shopping. Figured you might like to come."

"Not a chance in hell, Sammy."

"Dean!" Sam followed Dean in to his room, stopping him before he could get back in bed. "It'd mean a lot to me if you'd come with."

Dean looked back at Sam, a glint in his eye. "I may be injured, Sammy, but I could kick your ass in half a second." Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean copied him the best he could. "Don't tempt me."

"But De-"

"-I said no! Now go shopping-" Dean flopped down on his bed, rolling on his side and curling in to himself. "-and leave me alone."

Sam was prepared to argue back, to grab him and drag him from his bed to the outside world, make him see and feel again, but he knew better than to start a fight with him. "Dean, you can't spend the rest of your life in this room."

"I leave my room."

"In the house, then."

"It's better than being out there."

"Why?" He knew full well why.

"Because I'm not judged in here like I am out there, Sam! Leave me alone."

Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed, reaching out to touch him, though retracted his hand. "You deserve a life, Dean. You deserve friends. You deserve love. And you're not gonna find any of that in here."

"You're my friend."

"I don't count."

Dean's eyes were open but pointed away and down, staring hard at the base of the end table beside his bed, the cord from his clock viciously ripped out of its socket left hanging down toward the ground. He rolled forward to plug it back in, stretching his fingers as far as he could, trying to ignore Sam.

He couldn't. "So what do you suggest, Sammy? I'm not leaving."

Sam sighed, hoisting himself off of Dean's bed. "We'll talk about it later. I have a few ideas."

And with that he was gone. Dean had nothing left to say to him, and Sam knew that full well.

Dean went back to sleep, though it was distressing and rough, and he woke up a few hours later. He didn't bother getting out of bed. Sam would be in within the hour to force him out.

And he was right. Sam came in, waving a stick of beef jerky in front of Dean's face, which he stretched out and grabbed, ripping it from between his fingers. He'd never admit how hungry he was, but Sam seemed to know, and left Dean alone for another half hour while he made the only thing he knew Dean would eat: Ramen.

Dean ate it, of course, though kept his head down as though it'd prevent Sam from seeing the immense scarring solidifying across his face, marring him for life, but it didn't work, and it never would.

Sam could never forget when he got the news that Dean's squad had been bombed, nor would he forget when he found out his bother had survived. The excitement had nearly been lost when he saw his face. Dean had stitched-up gashes ripping across his body, tubes filing in and out of what seemed like every orifice, blood-stained skin still visible despite the fact that he'd been flown back to the states and his injuries had occurred days ago.

The most shocking, still, had been his face. There were stitches all across his skin, starting at his temple and working down and across his forehead, wrapping down his nose and around his eye, straight through his cheek to the base of his jaw. He had other minor scrapes and bruises, as well a gash from a corner of his lips to his chin, but that was by far the worst.

He couldn't talk for a week, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was "So how do I look?". It was garbled and more of a mumble than anything, but it was still something.

"Looking good."

Dean had actually tried to go out in public when he was feeling better. His willingness to do so, however, quickly faded. There were stares, and pointing, and no amount of trying to cover himself really worked.

Sam tried to sympathize with him, to feel his pain, but the social stigma of having a fucked-up face would never truly resonate with him, and he was at a loss at how to help Dean. He wanted nothing more than to do so, but there was only so much he could do.

He could still do something.

"Right now?" Dean asked once he was finished with his noodles, slurping up the last of the broth.

"If you're okay with that."

"Sammy, you're the computer geek, not me."

"So? Dean, it's easy. You know how to type, right?"

"No."

Sam's eyes narrowed, quirking an eyebrow up, and Dean once again tried to mimic his facial expressions, but it didn't really work. Sam pursed his lips slightly, and he gave in. "Fine."

"It's easy. All you have to do is log in, and then find someone to talk to."

"Someone I don't even know?" Dean put his bowl in the sink, grabbing a glass to fill with water. "Sammy, I don't think anyone's gonna want to talk to me."

"Why not? Dean, you're not gonna see this person, and they're not gonna see you. It's a chat-room. Hell, there might even be more than one person. Who knows?" Dean scoffed and turned to leave to his room, and Sam followed him. "What? You chicken."

"No," Dean said as they entered his room. He set his glass down on his previously empty desk, and sat himself down in front of a new laptop, one that Sam had bought for him while he was out.

He was already logged in to the computer, a generic background and a single folder gracing the desktop. He moved the mouse to open the browser, then turned to look at Sam. "What now?"

"Go to a website."

Dean opened a porn site.

"Not that one."

"Then which one, nimrod?"

"A chat-room."

Dean glared at him. "Yeah, I've got so many of those up my sleeve."

Sam sighed, reaching around Dean to type in a website, one he'd used himself when he was younger. It took a moment, but the dark colored site showed up. It looked modern, so Sam figured it'd work fine. "All you gotta do now is sign up, then sign in. Then you can find a room to enter, and talk to the people in there."

"This sounds dumb."

Sam smacked Dean's shoulder, then felt bad when he hissed. He'd hit the wrong one. "Sorry," he muttered. "But it's not dumb, and you need friends."

"How am I supposed to make friends if I can't even see them?"

Sam pat his shoulder, the safe one this time. "You'll figure it out."

Dean did. It took some time, the site requiring things he didn't even have, like an e-mail, or a so called 'username', but it was eventually all sorted out, and he felt a bit of pride and success at the fact that he hadn't even called Sam in once.

And he felt pretty great about his username.

The site was relatively easy for him to use, but he still wasn't too sure about the people he'd be meeting. Could they really not see him? He saw the camera on the front of his screen, and covered it with a piece of tape. Just in case.

He tried a few different rooms toward the top of the list, but the chats were flying so fast that no one even noticed him. He was growing weary and tired of trying.

Dean posted on the next open and primarily empty chat-room he found.

iamdean hello?

It was a few minutes before someone responded to him. The ping from the notification startled Dean, but he calmed quickly.

cassienovHi.

He wouldn't let himself smile.

iamdean hello

cassienov We've established a greeting.

iamdean sorry

cassienov For what?

iamdean for saying hello twice

cassienov That's really not a reason to apologize.

Dean dropped his head down. He was really bad at this.

iamdean I'm new at this

cassienov I can tell.

Dean didn't know how to respond to that. Luckily the other did it for him.

cassienov But that's okay. We were all new at one point.

iamdean I'm glad you said it.

cassienov I'd ask your name, but I assume it's Dean.

Dean's eyes widened.

iamdean how'd you know that?

cassienov Uhhh

Dean remembered his username.

iamdean oh shit, right.

cassienov Haha.

cassienov I figure I should tell you mine?

iamdean Cassie?

cassienov Haha. No. You're close.

cassienov Castiel.

Dean said the name aloud to himself.

iamdean that's an interesting name

iamdean but not bad

cassienov I'm glad you like it.

cassienov So, what are you interested in?

iamdean I don't think you'd really care

cassienov Then why would I ask?

And that sparked it.

Dean would never admit that such a simple phrase of genuine interest would be the birth of any sort of friendship to him, but as the minutes went by, and the messages snapped back and forth, he found himself longing to remain in conversation with this person, Castiel, truly enjoying the abstract company he provided him. And for just a moment, he found himself feeling like a normal human once again.

It was about two hours later when it happened.

cassienov I've got to go now.

Dean furrowed his brow, not willing to admit how upset he found himself feeling about it.

iamdean why?

cassienov I have to work.

iamdean I thought you were a student?

cassienov I have to pay for it somehow.

cassienov If you're interested, we can talk again later?

Dean let a glimpse of a smile grace his lips.

iamdean I'd love that

cassienov Really?

iamdean of course

cassienov :)

cassienov I'll be on this same chat-room in 7 hours

iamdean okay

iamdean wait, how do you do that face?

cassienov I'll show you later, alright?

cassienov Insurance on you showing up again.

iamdean okay

cassienov :)

There was a pang as Castiel left the chat-room, and Dean was left with the buzz of a smile and hint of happiness in him, eyes alight for a minute as he watched the screen, unable to believe what just happened.

He'd made a friend.

It took a while for his high to fade off, and he was right back down to feeling mopish. It wasn't as bad as before, oh no. He had something to look forward to, and he couldn't wait for that moment to come, when he'd log back in and speak to this person once again.

He looked at the digital clock in the corner, and found himself yearning for sleep in a sudden onset of drowsiness. But he didn't want to fight it, and crawled himself in to bed, but not before writing a quick note of a pad of paper he found in his desk.

It's 3p.m. Wake me up in 7 hours.

He knew Sam would find the note when he came to check up on him.

It didn't stop him from nearly ripping off his brother's face when he did exactly what he was asked.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"Why'd you wake me up?"

"You told me to!"

"What time is it?" Dean rubbed his eyes, forgetting his clock was plugged in and that he could actually know the time himself for once.

"Ten."

Dean sat up straight. "What?"

"Seven hours from three. It's ten."

He crawled out of bed as quickly as he could, growing dizzy from standing so fast, but it was a quick hop to his desk, and he was sitting down within a moment, his laptop open, fingers flying away to get on the chat-room.

Sam grinned. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business."

"You make a friend?"

"None of your business."

Sam's grin widened. He was prepared to say something else, but Dean was logging himself in, and he felt he needed his space. He took another moment to watch his brother, and how he seemed happier after less than a day.

He hoped the trend was going to continue.

Dean waited until he heard the sound of Sam's feet disappear behind him and his reflection fade from his screen before he clicked in to the room.

iamdean hello?

cassienov I was afraid you wouldn't show.

iamdean I keep my promises.

cassienov :)

Dean tucked a leg up on to his chair.

iamdean okay how do you do that face?

cassienov Do you really not know?

iamdean would I ask if I didn't?

cassienov Haha. I guess not.

cassienov It's two different keys. Press the : and then the )

iamdean ;0

cassienov Not quite.

cassienov Press the shift button.

iamdean :)

cassienov :)

iamdean that was fun

cassienov So, what do you want to talk about.

iamdean about anything

iamdean I just want to talk

cassienov I can do that.

And talk they did. It wasn't until 3am, when Dean realized that Castiel's messages were slowing down, that he was probably tired.

iamdean why won't you stop talking to me?

It was a minute before he got a response.

cassienov Why would I?

iamdean because you came home from hours of work and have been talking to me for 5 hours.

iamdean shouldn't you be tired?

cassienov So you want me to sleep?

iamdean shouldn't you?

It was another few minutes, and Dean was staring intently at his screen, waiting.

cassienov I'm not the best at that.

iamdean at sleeping?

cassienov Yes.

iamdean don't you get tired?

cassienov Yes.

iamdean you just can't sleep?

It was a few minutes longer.

cassienov Exactly.

iamdean I used to sing my little brother to sleep

iamdean he's not so little anymore

cassienov I wish someone would sing me to sleep.

cassienov Though it probably wouldn't work.

iamdean I'd sing to you, I just don't anymore

cassienov Maybe you will again one day.

iamdean maybe I will

cassienov I sure hope so.

Dean was smiling a smile he hadn't had on his lips in what felt like years, and his eyes were a kind of soft that only showed up in the sweeter, gentler moments of life, like when you hold hands with someone you like or before a soft kiss shared after a first date, cold air wrapping around your bodies.

He shivered at the realization of what his mind was implying. He didn't feel awful about it.

iamdean maybe it'll be for you one day

cassienov I'd love that.

iamdean me too

His reply didn't come for a while.

cassienov :)

cassienov I really should try to sleep.

cassienov Thank you for the company.

iamdean can I talk to you again?

cassienov 15 hours sound okay?

iamdean so, about 6:30?

cassienov We're in the same timezone? Then yes.

iamdean I'll talk to you at 6:30 then

cassienov Goodnight, Dean.

iamdean goodnight, Castiel

The ping of Castiel logging off rang out of Dean's computer, and he clicked himself out. He saw his reflection in the darkened screen, and he nearly winced, but he wouldn't let it bother him tonight. Closing his laptop, he crawled in to his bed. He curled under his sheets, and stared at his clock, counting down the minutes, hour by hour.

My tumblr is polarbearcas, so feel free to check it out, if you'd like.